Scarlette’s perfect face in my imagination. I feel the flurry of air around me as I play my way through the song, soft and slow.
After the final note, I open my eyes and focus on the sight of all the stunning greenery ahead of me. I’m already feeling a little better. I turn my head back towards the house to see my mother and sister standing in the doorway watching with identical smiles. Then I see Lizzie looking out the kitchen window. Our eyes meet for a split second, and her face lights up with joy.
I lift myself to my feet and walk over to the end of the terrace, placing both hands on top of the ledge. Staring down into the depth of the woods, I notice the way each tree fits perfectly with the trees around it so that they appear endless. My mind goes back to Ruben, wondering where to start. How do I get to him? A large shadow falls over the terrace besid e me.
“How are you holding up, son?” my dad asks.
He’s been a lot more intuitive with me lately. I keep my eyes on the view as I take a minute to respond, wondering how to put it into words. “I know who attacked her,” I say fin ally.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see my dad whip his head towards me. “What on earth do you mean? I was under the impression that her attacker was never ca ught?”
“That’s true; they wer en’t.”
“They? As in more than one?”
I nod silently, still gazing down at the trees. “After Scarlette shared more of that night with me, the more it all made sense, and I was able to piece it toge ther.”
His eyes bore into me, focused on what I was telling him. “Talk me through it, Elvis?” he asks.
“Remember the big guy I brawled with on the dance floor at the banquet hall?” I remind him.
My dad flinches slightly as he recalls the morning I came down with a face that looked like it had been used as a punching bag.
“Yes, I do,” he s ighs.
“He was forcing Scarlette and her friend to dance with him. He’s the one … Ruben! He targeted Scarlette and then caught up with her after she left the p arty.”
“Ruben?” my dad rep eats.
“Yes, Ruben Haggs is his name, and he had two guys with him. I’m sure it was them,” I say.
We both stand still, watching the trees sway in the wind. I look further out at the deep -b lue Pacific that surrounds the province. I remember his face, his dark -b rown eyes—they were empty, as if he had no soul living inside him. My body trembles at the thought, and I feel my dad’s hand touch my arm. We briefly make eye contact, and the look on his face makes it clear that he knows what’s going through my mind. I look back down at the forest, still gripping the concrete l edge.
“What do you want to do about this, Elvis?” he asks.
Without giving it a second thought, I say, “I want justice for Scarl ette!”
He nods his head in agreement, turning back to the view. “Maybe you should let the police handle this, son. They know how to investigate properly,” he sugg ests.
I entertain the thought for a moment. Before my dad can say another word, a pair of arms wrap around me from behind in a tight hug. “Elvis, I’m sorry to hear Scarlette is the girl,”
Allison says. “From that night, I mean. It’s horr ible.”
It feels good to be comforted, but Scarlette is the one who really deserves it all. I hold Alli’s arms around me with both hands. “Thanks, Alli,” I say under my breath, but loudly enough for her to know that I’ve acknowledged her consolation. How did Allison even find out about it? I look up at my dad questioningly and he shrugs his shoul ders.
“Secrets don’t last in this family,” he remind s me.
“Of course, they don’t,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“I can’t believe it, Elvis. What are the chances you meet her years after you saved her?” Allison asks.
“I’m not sure what to say, Alli.” I hadn’t put a lot of thought into that part of it at all.
“It’s fate!” she tell s me.
“Maybe you were meant to cross each other’s paths more than once in this lifetime,” my father adds, as we all turn to walk back into the h ouse.
My mother is still standing in the doorway. As I approach, she takes a step towards me and reaches out to place her small hands on my biceps. “How is Scarlette doing, sweetheart?” she asks, since rely.
“She’s doing okay, Mom. I’m here for her. I always wil l be.”
My mother smiles. “I have no doubt.” She pauses and then asks,
“What about you? Are you doing all right with this news?”
“I will never forget the way I felt that night, and I sure won’t ever forget the way I felt the night I found out it was her.”
My mother squeezes her soft hands on my arms, looking with her brown eyes straight into my blues. “Every set of eyes has a story to tell, sweetheart. This is yours, and that is hers,” she says, releasing me as we step back into the kit chen.
“I just squeezed fresh orange juice,” Lizzie says by way of greeting. “Come, sit. Let me pour everyone a g lass.”
“I would like a glass to go, Elizabeth,” my father says, stepping around me and Allison as we take a seat at the island. “I have some reports to review for a surgery I have to perform this coming week.”
He takes a full glass of orange juice from the counter and walks out of the room, passing Adam who is just on his way in to joi n us.
“Hi, honey,” my mom greets him with a s mile.
Lizzie places an extra glass on the counter and fills all four to the top, as Adam gets himself a plate of pancakes and takes a seat between me and our mother. We tap our fists in gree ting.
The room lapses into silence, and I notice Lizzie seems agitated.
I catch her and my mother making eye contact every few seconds.
Something’s up, but I hesitate to ask in case I’m reading too much into it. Then, I see my mom give her a slight nod, and Lizzie’s face floods with relief. Her bright -g reen eyes focus first on Allison, then Adam, then stop in my direction. “You were meant to be there that night, Elvis,” she says suddenly, breaking the q uiet.
“It was meant to happen that way,” Lizzie continues. “It wasn’t fair for Scarlette to have been attacked and left behind. But she wasn’t meant to die—she was meant to live. She was meant to be saved, and you were chosen to save her.” She locks eyes with me, but I stay quiet, sensing she has more to say.
“We all have a story. You kids are all grown up now, so it’s time I told you mine.”
We all turn towards her, showing we’re listening, and Lizzie takes a deep breath before begin ning.
“It was over twenty -f ive years ago. I was in love, madly in love,” she says with a light sigh.
I can see Alli staring at her, hanging on her every word. This time so am I. Nowadays, hearing someone talk about love is something that grabs my attention. I no longer push it away. Love fits in my w orld.
“I had the man of my dreams by my side. He was the love of my life. His name was Frederick.” She stops when she says his name.
Lizzie seems to be remembering him in that very moment, but then she shakes her head slightly and conti nues.
“You have to believe that everything in life happens for a reason. Even when it is something we have a hard time accepting.