Forest of Lost Secrets Read online

  Jessica had tried to put her guilt into words many times since that day, but the words wouldn’t come. Words were her friend—she processed many things in her life by writing poems—but this was different. The minute she nailed those words down, there would be no taking them back. It would be an overt confession, and she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

  She cringed at the thought of anyone coming across her written words. Curtis’s parents, especially his mother, were so utterly distraught. If they knew that three words—I love you—could have saved their son’s life, what would they think? She couldn’t bear to imagine.

  Jessica hadn’t meant for Curtis to die; she truly didn’t know what she felt. She wanted it to be okay, resolved somehow. But it wasn’t. He was dead, and the words stayed on that lake, drowned and surrounded in secret sadness and regret. It weighed heavily on Jessica’s heart. Sometimes it was unbearable, and it seemed to be getting only worse. She had heard such feelings would ease with time, but she felt them only growing heavier.

  She crossed her arms on the windowsill and rested her forehead on them. “Well, good morning, Jessica,” she whispered. “Welcome to your life.” She sighed and went back to her writing.

  The line she had just written ended in the word anguish, which she felt. But what rhymed with anguish? All she could think of was languish. Was that what she was destined to do this summer? Just languish in her sadness in a new country? At least back home she could do something. She could work at raising money to support Against Drunk Boating. At least then she was making a difference to someone. Helping somehow. Redeeming herself.

  She looked out again at the morning landscapes and they no longer seemed so magical. They seemed strange and unwelcoming, the fog hiding horrible truths. She let out a long sigh and wished she were somewhere else. In fact, she wished she were someone else. Someone who would not lead boys on and drive them to their death.

  There was a light knock on her door and Riley stuck his head inside her room.

  “You up, Jess?”

  “Just writing a poem.”

  “You can write your sad poem later. Let’s check this place out.” Jessica heard the enthusiasm in his voice.

  She glanced at her unfinished poem and set the pad aside. She looked up at Riley and smiled. “It is a sad poem. How did you know?”

  “Your face looked sad. But hey, we’re in Ireland, so let’s go see what’s here.”

  “Okay. Let’s check it out.”

  They spent an hour exploring the rooms of Connaree Manor, examining the art and knickknacks scattered about. There were even old swords mounted on a wall in the den.

  They peeked into an office in a back corner of the house and waved at Uncle Basil, who was sitting at a grand oak desk, typing on an old-fashioned typewriter. Aunt Noreen intercepted them in the hall and gave them both little cakes with homemade currant jam. She apologized that she had errands to run and left the two of them to their exploring.

  They wandered outside the house, looking around the grounds. By now, the morning dew had lifted, and the sky was clear. The scent of sweet grass permeated the air. A few outbuildings and several patches of stunningly colorful flowers surrounded the house. Around the back, near the rear entrance, they looked over a well-stocked herb garden. Jessica broke off a leaf of lemon sage and offered it to Riley for a sniff.

  “Hmm, nice,” Riley said. “It really does smell like lemon.”

  “Meeda must use these herbs in her cooking.”

  “You know, this whole place smells awesome. Fresh. I guess it’s because we’re out in the country.”

  “Even the light is different here,” said Jessica, looking around the fields and breathing deeply.

  “We haven’t been in through here, yet,” said Riley, nodding toward the rear entrance. “Let’s see what’s back here.”

  “Yeah. Why not?”

  Jessica and Riley entered the doorway, which led through a narrow pantry room and then into the kitchen. The room had a rustic, well-used feel to it, with large shiny pots and pans hanging on the walls. Standing by the sink pouring water into a potted plant was Meeda, who looked at the two of them with surprise. Gerald was sitting at a worn plank table sipping on a cup of some steaming beverage. He gave them both an unfriendly scowl and stood up.

  “May I help you two?” he said, the tone of his voice making it clear that his offer was less than sincere.

  “Sorry,” said Riley. “We hadn’t been in this way before. We were just checking it out.”

  Gerald shook his head slowly. “As the gentleman and the lady are no doubt aware, the kitchen is the domain of service personnel. Service personnel come in and out of the rear entrance, including tradesmen from the local community. The niece and nephew of the lord of the manor do not, I say do not, enter through the rear entrance, or come into the kitchen at all unless there is a good reason.”

  “It’s just not proper,” added Meeda, looking at them sternly.

  “But we go into our kitchen at home all the time,” said Jessica, her brow wrinkled in confusion.

  “I’m not surprised,” said Gerald. “That is America. I’m sure your service personnel—”

  “We don’t have servants,” said Riley.

  “I see,” said Gerald, quickly glancing at Meeda. “Well, this is how it works. In order for Meeda and myself to do our jobs, you two must understand yours. You must know your place and not interfere with ours. Do you understand?”

  Jessica and Riley nodded. “Sorry,” said Jessica.

  “So in the future, you will stay out of the kitchen, and I would advise you to watch your aunt and uncle closely, for they know how to conduct themselves in a proper fashion.” As he said this, Gerald pushed his scowling face toward them, his coffee breath bathing Jessica’s face. He waved his index finger at them. “Do you understand?”

  “I said we were sorry!” exclaimed Jessica, who had overcome her surprise and was now resenting being lectured to. She turned to Riley. “Come on, let’s go back out.” She and Riley turned back the way they came without a further word, exiting the kitchen and stepping out into the back yard.

  They stood in the bright sunshine and looked back at the door.

  “What a couple of assholes,” said Riley.

  “What’s their problem?” asked Jessica.

  Riley shrugged. “So now what? We have a whole summer ahead of us, and already I don’t want to be here.”

  Jessica looked out across the nearest field. “Let’s explore,” she said, pointing toward a line of trees in the distance. “Out that way. Let’s see what’s around here.”

  “Sure. Let’s check it out.”

  Ten

  Keeva paced in the palace reception hall with short, quick steps. Her white robes bellowed as she walked. She ignored the two courtiers who looked at her with puzzled expressions. She wasn’t often in the reception hall. It was where King Brecan conducted most of the business of running the kingdom, meeting with Derfaria’s officials and provincial administrators. It wasn’t that the opulent room was off limits to her, but she had little interest in affairs of state. At least, that’s the way it used to be. Now, such matters loomed large in her mind. She frothed at the bit awaiting the return of King Brecan and Iragram.

  The two of them had left Derfaria hours ago, using false mirclair to travel to Panagu for an audience with the Panaguan authorities. Keeva knew that her father and Iragram could not be harmed. Their ghostly projection into Panagu was little more than a shadow, and one could not strike a mere shadow. But neither could a shadow inflict harm. They could, however, be making dire threats, and that was her hope. Either bring Neasan to justice in Derfaria or unleash war. Either way, she would have her revenge. The bitter taste of bile welled up in her throat as she thought of the redheaded woman giving Neasan children.

  But what if Neasan told the whole truth? The real truth? That he had visited Keeva many times and was not only welcomed but that she had recently professed her love to him. But no, h
e wouldn’t do that, she reasoned. If he was to wed this other princess, he wouldn’t want it known that he professed love to another.

  Beads of sweat formed on her forehead, for she had been pacing nonstop for some time. She paused at a stone bench and was about to sit and rest when the door to the reception hall opened with a loud clang. King Brecan entered, followed by Iragram.

  “Father!” cried Keeva, running over to them. “Is it done? Will you unleash war on the vile Panaguans?”

  King Brecan didn’t answer. He gently but mutely pushed his daughter aside and passed through the door to his personal chambers. Perplexed, Keeva looked at Iragram.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  Iragram stepped toward Keeva and took her hands in his. “My dear, we were granted an audience with the king of Panagu and made our accusations. We told him the young men of Panagu had used norl to dishonor the maidens of Derfaria by spying on them in their private chambers, and that Neasan had appeared before the king’s daughter with lustful intent as she was bathing. We told him we had proof that this was so, and that we demanded immediate satisfaction for this injustice or that the consequences would be dire. Among our list of demands, we requested that Panagu turn Neasan over to the royal courts of Derfaria for suitable punishment.”

  “Did they agree? Or will there be war?” Keeva asked, holding her breath.

  “Patience, dear. At first, the Panaguan king was outraged and proclaimed our statements to be pernicious lies. He described Neasan, soon to be Prince Neasan, as one of Panagu’s outstanding citizens of royal birth, betrothed to his daughter, Princess Velthia, and that he would one day rule Panagu by her side.”

  “Of course he would deny everything,” spat Keeva. “Surely, my father did not take the word of a Panaguan over his own flesh and blood?”

  Iragram shrugged. “They discussed it for hours. Passions were high in the beginning. But as they talked, the anger in both kings subsided. They are reasonable men, I think. In the end, they avoided war. The Panaguan king vowed he would thoroughly look into the matter and punish any offenders, and that we could count on him to make certain no further actions of this sort would occur in the future.”

  “And Neasan!” cried Keeva, her face flushed red. “What is to happen to him for his vile transgressions?”

  Again, Iragram shrugged. “The people of Panagu will handle this matter themselves.”

  “Father!” called Keeva, running to the king’s chamber door and banging on it with her fist. “Father, will you not punish the man who has committed such an injustice upon your daughter?” She continued to bang on the door and cry out. Eventually, Brecan slowly opened the door and looked at his irate daughter.

  “Keeva, you must calm yourself. I trust that the king of Panagu will take appropriate measures.” Brecan looked old and worn out, but Keeva wouldn’t relent.

  “But Father, that is not acceptable!” cried Keeva, her face livid. “It should be Derfaria that punishes him. He should be forced to come here and stand before his accusers and submit to our justice. I want to look into his smug eyes as he is carried away to spend his days in prison, unable to marry that vile princess.”

  “I have made my decision.” Brecan began to close the door, but Keeva blocked it with her foot.

  “But Father, if you care so little of my honor, what of the men of Panagu who made sport of our fair maidens, gazing lasciviously at their nakedness as they bathed? Do you not desire justice?”

  “There will be no war,” said King Brecan, his voice firm. “As long as the Panaguan king honors our arrangement.” He let out a long breath, took his daughter’s hand in his, and spoke to her more softly. “I know you feel harmed. But at least you were not physically assaulted. War is an awful thing. People die. Whole societies can be damaged or even ruined. It is not a step I’m willing to take as long as the leadership of Panagu is reasonable and equally outraged by the kinds of actions that took place.” His words were clear and firm; Keeva knew her father’s resolve when she saw it.

  “No!” cried Keeva. She collapsed onto the floor and began to sob. “My own father would abandon me.”

  King Brecan put his hands on his hips. “I am sorry you weep so. But you must accept my decision.” He stepped back into his chambers and closed the door sharply behind him.

  Eleven

  Jessica and Riley climbed over the dry-stone fence that surrounded their aunt and uncle’s lawn and headed out across a field toward a line of trees. The growth in the fields on either side of them was tall, with flower blooms mixed in. But the field they walked on was trimmed down.

  Jessica watched the gusty breeze set the colorful flowers waving vigorously in the wind.

  “All that purple and yellow is beautiful,” said Jessica, “but I wouldn’t want to walk in grass that deep.”

  “Yeah, but this one is okay.”

  As Jessica looked more closely, she noticed that though the grass was trimmed quite close, the blades were not even. It looked choppy and rough. A chorus of bleating reached their ears, answering her unspoken question.

  “Well, look over there,” said Jessica, pointing to another field opposite the dirt lane. “See those sheep? We must be walking in one of their pastures.”

  “So they keep the grass low,” mused Riley.

  Jessica grinned. “That’s probably why the grass here is so green.”

  “What are you saying? Because…they poop in these fields?” Riley suddenly seemed aware of the ground and made a face like he smelled something bad.

  “Better watch out.”

  As they walked along, the wind blew back Jessica’s long strands of hair with a fragrant, steady breeze. Riley turned his back to the breeze and looked toward Connaree Manor.

  “It’s good getting away from those two,” he said.

  “Gerald and Meeda? Yeah, it is. They aren’t friendly people.”

  “I wonder why Aunt Noreen and Uncle Basil put up with them.”

  “They’re pretty trusting, those two,” said Jessica. “They may not realize what they’re like.”

  “Maybe we should tell them.”

  Jessica thought it over. “Nah, I don’t think so. They’ll just put it down to us not being used to servants. And maybe that’s just what it is. We need to give it time.”

  “We’ve got plenty of that,” said Riley, shaking his head. “Jessica, what are we going to do all summer without a signal?”

  Jessica shrugged.

  “Why do you think Mom and Dad did this?” he asked.

  “I know why they did it to me. They’re worried about me and hoping living here this summer will stop me thinking about Curtis so much.”

  “Yeah, they have a point. You’re still pretty obsessed.”

  “Of course I am!” cried Jessica. “I loved Curtis.” It felt safe to say it out loud, and she must truly have loved him. Why else would she feel so bad for so long? She stared at her feet as she walked along, shaking her head. “And he died right in front of me. It’s true he was showing off but why was he showing off? To impress me. So I’m partly responsible. If I hadn’t let him drink so much, things could have been different.” The words came out so easily, and she let them. But she couldn’t let everything out. She couldn’t tell her little brother that if she had said three little words, Curtis would still be alive.

  “Ah, Jessica, you couldn’t have stopped him from drinking,” said Riley. “He drank a lot. You said so yourself.” He often tried to reason with Jessica, probably to make her feel better. Sometimes it worked.

  “Well, I can sure help all the other idiots who get shit-faced drunk on their boats. I raised fourteen thousand dollars last summer for Operation Dry Water, and I bet I could have doubled that this summer. That’s making a difference.”

  Riley gestured toward the open land around them. “But maybe this place will take you away from all that. Maybe they’re right. It’s time to move on.”

  “I don’t want to move on! I still love Curtis and I always wil
l.” Jessica’s lower lip began quivering.

  “Okay, okay,” said Riley. “You will always love Curtis. Forget I said anything.” He put his hand on her shoulder, and Jessica leaned into him.

  It never used to be like that between them. If anything good had come from Curtis’s death, it was that her relationship with Riley had deepened. For the first time, Jessica made him privy to her emotional life. Like never before, she allowed her little brother to know her sorrow. And he had not misused or broken her trust. While some of her friends had grown weary of her suffering and made her feel like she was melodramatic, Riley usually acted like he understood and supported her. He was more mature, sympathetic, and caring than she had ever realized.

  For a young kid—especially a dude—Riley was remarkably sensitive and patient with her feelings. Allowing her feelings just to be what they were. It was good to have him for a brother.

  As they walked along, Jessica wondered if she should tell him. To share with him the fact that, by rejecting Curtis, she was the real reason for his death. That she really had killed him. She had felt this urge before but always decided against it.

  Keep it inside. Too dark, too awful. She swallowed a few tears and tried to breathe. This is mine and mine alone.

  She remembered her grandmother’s advice, which she had thought of often since Curtis died. “Take up your cross and bear it in silence, as Jesus did for us.” She had not understood what one’s cross was until that day on the water.

  They reached the opposite end of the pasture and stepped over a low stone fence separating the field from a dirt lane. A purple-tinged color washed fields in every direction. A few rustic cottages stood in the distance, but none were close.

  “It’s kinda isolated around here,” observed Riley.