The Forgotten Past

Chapter 9

When I finally get to my house my lungs feel as if they are going to explode, I can't catch my breath. The whole way back here I was trying to keep my head empty of all of the questions but I ended up failing. New the questions just kept coming up with the old ones.
My body is shaking and I try to open the front door as fast as I can without letting the keys fall out of my hands. I finally manage to open the door and I rush inside immediately going to dad's study because that's where he usually spends his time.
I open the door and dad looks up at me from all the papers on his desk and surprise covers his face.
"What the hell did you say to Blake dad? '' I scowl at him and the expression on his face immediately changes. His face fills with fear and he responds, "what are you talking- ." He's trying to keep his voice steady but he does not succeed. I don't let him finish because I'm sick of his games, I want to hear the truth.
"Don't you even finish that sentence,'' I scowl at him, "you know very well what I'm talking about. Don't lie to me anymore! I was at the lake and Blake was there to. He said that you said something to him and to me it sounded like a threat. What has he done to you that you have to treat him like this?''
He's staring at me with disbelieve. I've never said something like this to dad. I was just never brave enough, but that has gone on for way too long. He opens his mouth to speak but I don't let him.
"I know he was there, when I woke up. And that he was the one that got me out of my car after the crash. Why wouldn't you tell me this? ''
My heart is beating overtime, but I don't care.
He clearly isn't thrilled about me knowing all this because frustration fills his eyes and he stands up from his chair and walks toward me.
"Grace it's, I- I couldn't risk- '' he says with his voice shaking. "God! He can't find out. No one can know- '' he mumbles under his breath. His hands are clutching his hair and he probably thinks I didn't hear him.
"What are you talking about? What risk- '' I say but don't finish because I suddenly his hand smashes my cheek. Shit...that hurts.
I look into his eyes and see that the fear is completely gone replaced by something different. Anger.
"I will not talk further on about this Grace, if you are smart you- you will stay away from him and I won't repeat myself anymore. '' He speaks with control and a demanding voice. I stare at him neither breathing nor blinking. I cannot handle any more of this.
The door to his study is still open and I walk out of it as fast as I can, slamming the door behind me. When I get upstairs I peek inside Ava's room and see that she is not there. That would mean that she's at her friend's house. Thank god because this way she didn't have to hear me and dad yelling at each other.
I get to my room and lay down on my bed. The thoughts come back and I close my eyes to fight back the tears. Mom. Yes, she would know how to handle this, she would know the right things to say.
I turn to my side and pull a blanket over me but I feel something digging into my side. Sitting up I find a book lying on my bed. Must be one of Ava's fairytales books. I pick it up and see that it isn't Ava's but moms.
This is the one book mom always used to read in: Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen. She could read this book a hundred times and it would still brighten up her eyes with excitement and joy.
She loved English Literature so much. The book itself is almost falling apart, pages are lose and the beautiful hardback cover art is ripping off. I always keep this book up on my selves because I'm too afraid that the book will fall apart in my hands if I ever try to read it.
I do wonder why it's on my bed and the only thing I can come up with is Ava. She was probably reading in it. She knows that she isn't supposed to touch this book I told her about a hundred times.
I open up the book and gently flip through the pages and something changes my eye in the middle of the book. It looks like a lose piece of paper folded between the pages. I search the page where I spotted the paper and take it out. Laying the book next to me, I gently unfold the paper and see that it's a handwritten letter. It's so old and dusty-
Wait, that handwriting, I know that one.
It's mom's.
Why would she put a letter into this book? I try to keep my head empty from all the questions that immediately come up and start reading the letter.

Dear Gracie