And now it was Thane Asher who occupied my thoughts.
When I arose the next morning, I knew I had to talk to Papa before I went back to Asher Falls.
I almost expected to find the house closed up, but Papa’s truck was in the driveway, and when he didn’t answer my knock, Angus and I walked down to the cemetery to look for him.
The scent of fading roses drifted on a mild breeze as we wound our way through the lush trails of ivy and creeping phlox. I found Papa working on the angels, the collection of fifty-seven statues that commemorated those children whose lives had been lost in an orphanage fire at the turn of the last century. It had taken Papa years to restore the memorials, and as I moved among them now, I couldn’t help but compare those sweet, pensive faces to the hubris of the Asher angels. But I didn’t want to think about those arrogant, upturned visages that watched the mountains. I didn’t want to dwell on what had happened between Thane and me in that dreamy circle. Time enough later for brooding.
Papa glanced up as I approached, then went right back to his work.
“You don’t seem surprised to see me,” I said.
“Your aunt called.” His voice had thinned in the past year, and his face was even more weathered than I remembered. But the passing years hadn’t diminished his quiet dignity or his distance. He was right there before me and yet he seemed a million miles away.
“You know why I’m here, then.”
“Yes, child.”
I drew a trembling breath. “We have to talk, Papa. No more secrets.”
“Those secrets were meant to protect you, Amelia.”
“I know that. But the only thing that can protect me now is the truth.”
Silently, he gathered up his tools and put them away. “Let’s sit a spell,” he said, and we sank to the ground, facing the angels, our backs to the gate. When Angus padded over and plopped down at my feet, Papa leaned in absently to rub his head.
“That’s Angus,” I told him.
“Where did you get him?”
“In Asher Falls,” I said, and I saw him shudder. “So many strange things have happened to me there. I felt a connection from the moment I arrived, and I’m only now starting to understand why.” I paused. “Who am I, Papa?”
“You are my Amelia,” he said quietly. “And I love you more than life itself.”
My eyes filled with tears. He’d never said anything like that to me before. After the ghosts came, he’d withdrawn into himself, never showing me the slightest affection, and for years I was left wondering what I had done. But now to hear the tremor in his voice, that desperate sadness in his eyes…it was too much. I had to look away.
So many questions lingered, but I wouldn’t ask him about his time with Tilly. That belonged to them. I didn’t condone what had happened—I was fiercely loyal to my mother, after all—but I could understand it. Two desperately lonely people with their secrets—Papa with his ghosts and Tilly with her premonitions.
Drawing my legs up, I laid my cheek on my knees. “What are we, Papa?”
“In the olden days, we were called caulbearers. Babies born behind the veil with the ability to see beyond the real world into the spirit world. Nowadays, it’s considered an old wives’ tale, but it happens every generation or so in our family.”
“Was Freya born behind the veil?”
“Yes. And she had Tilly’s ability to sense things. She was an extraordinary child, I’m told.”
I glanced at him. “You never knew her, Papa?”
He stared out over the graveyard so that I couldn’t see the desolation in his eyes. “She was my daughter, my only child, but I never saw her alive.”
My heart quickened. “Have you seen her ghost?”
“I saw her corpse.” And the sorrow in his voice brought a fresh sting of tears to my eyes.
I dug the little broken wing from my pocket and handed it to him. “I found this in your things. I shouldn’t have taken it.”
His fingers closed around the bit of porcelain, and he clasped it tightly as he told me his story, how he had not seen or heard from Tilly since he’d gone back to my mother. He hadn’t even known about a baby until Tilly had called one night seventeen years after he’d last seen her and told him just enough to send him flying back to Asher Falls where he’d learned that Freya, his only child, had been murdered.
“Did Tilly know who killed her?”
“She never told me. I guess she was afraid of what I might do. But she had a vision of her child’s death. That’s what guided her to Freya.”
“She found the body?”
He nodded.
“But if she knew Freya was murdered, why didn’t she go to the police? Why did she let everyone think that her daughter had died in a fire?”
“Because she didn’t want anyone to know about you.”
“Why?”
“You were born after Freya was murdered.”
My heart started to hammer.
His eyes grew distant. “The girl had snuck out of the house to meet someone that night. Tilly didn’t even know she was missing until she woke up from a dream. That dream led her to the laurel bald where she found a fresh grave.”
“Freya’s grave.”
“And yours, child.”
The shock of his words stole my breath even though I must have already intuited the truth. That was why I’d been so overcome at the gravesite. Why that terrible suffocation had pressed down on me. I had been buried there with my murdered mother.
Angus had sensed it, too. That must have been how he found the grave. As impossible as it seemed, he must have picked up my scent, not my mother’s.
I tunneled my fingers through his fur, and he turned, dark eyes gleaming as he nuzzled against me.
“The grave was so shallow the dirt barely covered the body,” Papa said. “She hadn’t been there long. Only moments. Her skin was still warm, and Tilly prayed that she might still be alive. But when she unearthed her, there was no heartbeat. No pulse. The only thing Tilly could do was try and save the baby.”
I had been buried alive, I thought in horror. I had been born to a dead mother. No wonder my life was so strange.
“You weren’t breathing, even when Tilly peeled away the veil. She resuscitated you. She blew her breath into your lungs and brought you back from the other side.”
An icy hand grazed my nerve endings.
“And then she gave me to you,” I said softly.
“Yes, but before I took you home, I had to see my child. I had to give her a proper burial so that she could rest in peace.”
My poor, young mother hadn’t been able to rest, but I wouldn’t tell Papa. I wanted him to have that solace.
At least I now knew why he’d been covered in blood when he brought me home. “You’ve been caring for her grave all these years.”
“It was all I could do for her.”
