Natasha didn’t condemn her, but Genevieve could hear the unsaidwords reverberating in the space between them:“Why didn’t you tell me?”Not only could Genevieve understand that question, she could empathize with the hurt behind it. She’d have been hurt, too, if Natasha had hidden a hardship like this from her. In keeping silent, Genevieve had betrayed the closeness of their relationship, and they both knew it.
“I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you,” Genevieve said. “At first, it didn’t seem like a big deal because I thought I could quit the pills at any time. It wasn’t until recently that I realized I was in trouble.”
Natasha nodded. “When are you going to tell Mom and Dad?”
“I don’t know. Right now, it’s hard enough to resist popping pills to make myself feel better. I can’t think about coming clean to them at this point.” Her mom already worried about her constantly. If Genevieve gave her this—very real—thing to worry about, Mom would likely become unbearable.
“They should know about this,” Natasha said.
“I just ... can’t.”
A long, fraught gap of quiet opened. The other thing Genevieve couldn’t do right now? Continue talking about this. This topic made her feel like she’d been pinned naked to a clothesline near a busy street. She was willing to do just about anything to shift Natasha’s attention, so she returned her chair to its place. “I say we start snooping around.”
“Gen?”
“We can talk more about my recovery later, okay? That’s sort of all I can manage at the moment.”
Natasha considered her.
“Can we talk about the search we’re about to undertake? Please?” Genevieve asked.
“If you insist.”
“I do.”
“In that case, what’s our plan of attack for this morning?”
“I say we go through Dad’s files and Mom’s albums and memory boxes.”
“Looking for?”
Genevieve shrugged. “Clues to their hidden past.”
“I don’t think we’re going to find anything. I still think someone sent you that letter to mess with you.”
“Possibly. It’s just that when I talked to Mom and Dad about it over breakfast, I’m telling you, something was off. If the letter writer knows facts about them that we don’t, I’d like to find out what we’re dealing with before a stranger goes public.”
“Are you sure this is the best time to be launching an investigation into our mother and father?” Natasha looked doubtful. “You’re dealing with plenty right now.”
“I’ll feel better once I know what’s going on. I really don’t want to be blindsided.” As soon as she said the words, conviction boomeranged into her. She’d just blindsided Natasha.
“All right, then.” Natasha opened one of Dad’s files. “I’m assuming that we’re searching for something that occurred before they moved to Misty River?”
“Yes.”
“Because it’s hard to imagine them pulling off something secretive here.”
“Agreed.” Their parents had settled in Misty River shortly after their wedding. It strained believability to think that they’d covered up a secret that had occurred in their small Georgia hometown.
“I say we start as far back in time as possible,” Natasha said, “and move forward. I’ll handle the filing cabinet.”
“I’ll handle the albums.” Genevieve retrieved as many as she could carry and settled on the office floor with them so she could be near her sister while they worked.
These albums, with their black paper pages and black-and-white photos held in place with photo corners, were the oldest ofthe lot. Nanny, their dad’s mother, had carefully filled them with pictures of Dad when he was small.
The first album contained baby and toddler photos. The second album began around the time he’d gone to kindergarten. There were pictures of Judson on his first day of school wearing a buzz cut and a collared shirt. Pictures of him standing proudly in his tidy bedroom, with its precisely made bed, meticulous bookshelves, methodically organized action figures, and cowboy lampshade. Pictures of him with missing front teeth and his birthday cake.
She saw nothing that would indicate her dad had experienced anything less than the stable, all-American childhood she’d known him to have.
