Chapter Nineteen
The chessboard was still a mess, my king defeated, slumped on his side from earlier.
“Just a minute.” As Chrissy walked over to the thermostat, I stood my king upright.
He looks much better this way.
She tapped the dial, then perked her head up. A blast of heat whistled through the vents.
“It’s working,” she said, smiling weakly.
“Thank goodness. I’m freezing,” I moaned.
Chrissy sat on the couch beside me. “You were suspicious when you saw me down there. You thought I was looking around.”
“It’s not that … it’s just…”
“Well, you’re right,” Chrissy finished. Her eyes were pupil-less in the dark.
I stared at her, dumbfounded.
“Why?” I asked.
“It needed re-lighting. Your pilot light, I mean … but that’s not the only reason I went down there. I couldn’t find what I was looking for upstairs.”
I scanned her face for answers, a trickle of anger forming in the pit of my belly. What’s she playing at?
“And what might that be?”
“Proof,” Chrissy said, simply. She unfolded herself on the sofa beside me, resting her chin in her hands.
I leaned forward, smacking my palms down on the table with the chess board, surprising myself, as pieces scattered, knocked to the carpet below. “If you’ve got something to say, go on and say it. As much as I want to help you, I’m sick of you talking in circles.”
But instead of talking, Chrissy leaned forward, her face mere inches from mine, and then she reached back for something in her back jeans pocket. She removed it and placed it in the center of her lap.
A single piece of lined notebook paper folded into a square.
I plucked it up, narrowing my eyes at her as I unfolded this piece of so-called “proof”.
I scanned the words, unblinking, then tossed it back at Chrissy.
“It’s a note that Jack wrote, telling my mom he’s going out with friends and he’ll be back by curfew. It’s not dated. And if you’d taken the time to look around more down there, then you’d have found hundreds of ones just like it. My mom was a pack rat. She saved everything. Notes and papers and stupid drawings. I wouldn’t be shocked if my baby teeth and hair are tossed in one of those tubs downstairs … why is this important?”
Chrissy frowned. “His name isn’t on it. How do you know your brother wrote that?” she asked, tapping her finger patiently at the top.
Why is she obsessed with a scratchy old letter Jack wrote as a kid decades ago?!
“I know it’s his writing…” I stared at Jack’s words, my voice suddenly thick with grief. “I know because I’ve seen his writing a million times … when he, when he was still alive.”
I stared at the letters, my eyes burning and threatening to tear up … the loopy Ps and the blocky Bs…
“But you didn’t recognize it when you read his letter in my box, did you?”
I narrowed my eyes at the letter, head tilting to the side as I tried to remember the words. Come on. Sneak out and meet me tonight. Let’s have our own party, beautiful. -J
My breath lodged in my throat. I shook my head, looking up at her and back at the letter.
“You and my brother … but I thought those letters were from John?”
I don’t believe her. If she and Jack were together, I would have known. Right?
“Wait here,” I said, stiffly.
Moments later, I returned to the living room with her shoe box of crap in my hand. I’d barely glanced at it the other night, planning to come back to it, but I still hadn’t…
I took the letters out, one by one, setting aside the one from Jenny and John.
As I held the mysterious J’s letter next to the one of my brother’s, there was no denying it now. How come I didn’t realize before?
“In your defense, you probably haven’t seen your brother’s handwriting in years.” Chrissy’s voice was soft, like a thousand tiny whispers in the room.
What does this mean? Why is she telling me this now?
“He would have told me,” I said.
Chrissy smiled, but there was something empty behind it. Something sad.
But would he have told me? If he was having a relationship with our neighbor across the creek, we would have known about it, surely…
My thoughts swirled with memories of Jack at that age … around the time of Jenny’s death, he was so private, fiercely protecting his space, his inner world… We were close, but as a teen … he pulled away from me then. Nothing was the same after that summer Jenny died. Nothing was ever right again with my family.
“Your brother was a good man, and I was devastated when I learned of his suicide,” Chrissy said.
“You said you didn’t know,” I growled. First, she pretends she didn’t know he was dead, and now she acts like she mourned for him? Implies there was something going on with my brother that I didn’t know about?!
I could feel my fingers balling into tiny fists, rage versus confusion in my head.
“He had these stupid binoculars … always watching me from his window. I loved to sneak through the trees at night, crossing the river, and I’d stand at the edge of the tree line and wave … sometimes he’d sneak out and meet me there. He was gentle … and kind. The only boy in this town who truly seemed to like me for me.” Chrissy’s eyes were watery, lost in thought.
For some reason, the mention of his prized binoculars broke something inside me. I gasped with grief, tears flooding down my face now…
Chrissy reached a hand across the table, touching mine. I jerked back, surprising myself and her.
“So, my brother had a crush on you? That doesn’t mean he hurt Jenny. He wasn’t even here on the night she died… He was staying with my Aunt Lane then. Because that’s what you’re implying, isn’t it? I’m not stupid, Chrissy.”
Chrissy frowned. “I know that’s what
