Graham spends the entire morning up in his office, but he finally emerges when it’s time for lunch.
Camila is making soup for lunch. I helped her out by chopping various root vegetables, but now everything is in the pot, and every couple of minutes, she stirs it, tastes the broth, and makes some sort of seasoning adjustment. The aroma of garlic, rosemary, and thyme fills the kitchen.
It reminds me of when I was a kid, and I used to cook in the kitchen with my mother. She used to give me a few little tasks to do, so I could feel like I contributed in a useful way to the meal. She was a really skilled cook. As an adult, I was never a good cook, and I always felt like if she had lived longer, she could’ve taught me more of her secrets. I would have loved that.
I also always felt sad that she never got to meet Harry.
She would have adored him—I’m sure of it.
“It smells incredible in here,” Graham comments. “I could smell it all the way up the stairs.”
“Tess helped chop the vegetables,” Camila says. Graham is silent for a beat. “You gave her a knife?”
I remember the moment of hesitation before Camila handed me the blade I used to chop vegetables. The drawer with the knife was locked with a key.
“It was fine,” Camila says.
“No, it’s not fine. You shouldn’t have given it to her.”
I shift in my seat at the kitchen island. “I’m capable of chopping a few vegetables, Graham. I’m not going to hurt myself.”
His lips part and he looks like he’s going to say something, but then he shakes his head. “We’ll talk about this later.”
Of course, I’m sure Camila will be the one he talks to about it. He’ll scold her for letting me help chop the vegetables, and she has to do what he says since he’s the boss. Next time she makes soup, I’ll just have to watch.
Graham lingers in the kitchen while Camila finishes cooking our lunch. I don’t love the way he turns to watch Camila at the stove, smiling appreciatively at the curve of her legs in her skin-tight jeans. Harry never used to leer at women that way. But when Graham notices me looking, he looks away. At least he’s embarrassed about it.
“So what have you been up to all day?” Graham asks me as he sits down beside me at the kitchen island.
I shrug. “Not much. Just playing in the backyard with Ziggy a bit. That’s all.”
“That’s all?” There’s an edge to his voice like he doesn’t quite believe me.
“That’s all.”
I wonder if he knows I’ve been in contact with Harry today. He must suspect something. There was that letter, after all. He’s studying my face, and I squirm under his gaze. I’ve got to change the subject.
“So, um…” I say. “How did we meet?”
Graham drums his fingers on the table, his eyes distant. “You were at the beach. Your scarf blew into the water and I jumped into the ocean to rescue it for you.”
“Oh, like how Christine and Raoul first met in Phantom of the Opera!”
He snaps his head back, blinking at me. “What… I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I used to love Phantom of the Opera. And we have a copy of it in our DVD collection and I was watching it this morning, so…” I stop talking, noticing the scowl on Graham’s face. “That was nice of you. Thank you for rescuing my scarf.”
“You’re welcome.”
I bite on the tip of my thumbnail. “Why did I have a scarf at the beach anyway?”
He frowns. “Well, it wasn’t a wool scarf. It was one of those silk things.”
“Oh.”
Graham rips his eyes away from mine and cranes his neck to look at the stove. “Camila, is that soup almost ready? Don’t make this your life’s work.”
“Just a moment!” Camila calls out. “I’m almost done.”
She shuts off the stove and retrieves two bowls from the cupboard. I watch as she carefully ladles the contents of the pot into the bowls. Little clouds of steam waft out of each bowl. My stomach growls at the smell.
“Let me help you.” I jump out of my seat to join Camila by the stove. “What should I do?”
She nods at the bowl on the right. “You take yours and I’ll bring Graham his soup.”
I carry my bowl of piping hot soup to the table, being careful not to spill. Camila does the same thing with Graham’s bowl. I set mine gently on the table, and as Camila does the same, her hand spasms. I watch in horror as the bowl tips over. Right onto Graham’s lap.
“Jesus Christ!” he cries out. He jumps up from the table, revealing jeans soaked with steaming hot broth. “What the hell is wrong with you, Camila?”
She clasps a hand over her mouth. “I’m so sorry!”
She grabs a paper towel to help him, but he shoves her away, hard enough to make her stumble. His face is bright pink. “That was boiling hot! You could’ve scalded me! I swear to God, Camila, sometimes I think you’re just as dumb as Tess!”
Camila clasps a hand to her chest and takes a step back. “I apologize. It was an accident.”
“Yeah, whatever,” he grumbles. “I’ve got to go change.” He pushes past her and heads for the stairwell. I watch him sprint up the steps, feeling mortified by my husband’s
behavior. How did I end up marrying a man like that? I don’t understand. And now it feels like I’m stuck with him forever. All because I got into a stupid car accident.
Unless my father can help me. I hope Harry is successful…
“I’m so sorry he spoke to you that way,” I say to Camila. There’s a crease between her eyebrows. “Tess, did I ever tell you about my Abuelita? And about when she died?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know. If you did, I wouldn’t remember, would I?”
“No,” she concedes. “But I remember.”
I have no idea what she’s talking about. I grab a stack of napkins off the kitchen counter. “We should get all the soup cleaned up…”
“Tess.” She grabs my arm to stop me, her fingernails biting into my skin. “Listen, I’m sorry Graham makes up those bullshit stories about the way the two of you met.”
The scarf story. I knew it was a fake. “Oh…”
“You don’t deserve that.” Camila’s eyes are on mine. “You don’t deserve any of his lies. You deserve the truth. Everyone deserves to know the truth.”
The truth? What is the truth? I can’t even begin to grasp it. Even if I figure out how my life became this way, all my revelations have vanished by tomorrow. Maybe I discovered the truth last week or the week before. And I’ve just forgotten it. And if I discover it today, I’ll just forget it again. It’s like I’m in some sort of repeating hell.
“Tess.” Camila’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts. “I have something for you.”
I realize she’s holding out her hand. And in her palm is a small key.
“This opens the top drawer of the desk in Graham’s office.” She places the key down on the kitchen island in front of me. “Everything you need to know is in there. Go now. Quickly—while he’s changing.”
My mouth falls open. It hits me that the spilled soup wasn’t an accident at all. She did it on purpose so I would have a clear shot at Graham’s office while he’s changing.
“Camila…”
“Go,” she says. “I’m sick of these lies. You deserve the truth.”
I pick up the key from the table. I close my fingers around it. I don’t know what she’s talking about. I don’t know what is in his desk drawer. But she’s right. I’ve been searching for the truth. And this woman has literally handed me the key to everything I’ve been wanting to know.
I leave my bowl of soup behind and follow Graham’s footsteps up the stairs. But instead of going to the bedroom where he’s getting cleaned up and changed, I stop at the room before it. His office.
The door is ajar. He had been working there before lunch and probably planned to come back. I tap it open, taking in the sight of his large bookcase, the leather loveseat, and the mahogany desk.
I close the door behind me.
Graham’s desk is in the corner of the room. There are several drawers, all closed. I try them, one by one. They’re all filled with papers, probably related to the company. When I finally get to the top right drawer, it doesn’t open.
Then I notice it has a keyhole the same size as my little
key.
Before I can fit my key into the lock, my phone rings in
my pocket. I pull it out—the number I dialed this morning is flashing on the screen. It’s Harry. I don’t have much time, but I take the call anyway.
“Tess,” he gasps. “I… I just saw your father…”
“Hang on—there’s something I need to tell you.” I look down at the key in my sweaty hand. “Harry, Camila gave me the key to Graham’s desk drawer. She said there’s something in there I need to see. So I’m up in his office while he’s changing.”
“Tess…” His voice is shaky and quiet. “Don’t open that drawer.”
“What?” Did I hear him correctly? “You don’t understand. Whatever he’s been keeping from me, it’s in this drawer. If he’s been drugging me or… look, I’ve got the key in my hand. I’m going to open it right now.”
“No. No. Look, can you just…” He sounds almost frantic now. “I’m driving over to your house right now. Can you wait? I’ll be there in less than ten minutes. Don’t open the drawer.”
“In ten minutes, he’ll have figured out I’m in here!” I hiss into the phone. “This is my only chance. What’s wrong with you?”
“Tess, please… I’m begging you… just wait…” I let out a huff. “Forget it, Harry.”
Before he can protest again, I hang up the phone. I sense now that this is what I’ve been waiting for. For weeks
—maybe months. The answer to my questions. The truth, like Camila said. Why is this happening to me? Why is Graham doing this to me? How do I get out of here? I’m going to get the answer, and this time I’m not going to forget it so easily. Never again.
I fit the small key into the lock of the drawer on Graham’s desk. But just before I can turn it, my hand trembles. I get a strange buzzing sensation in the back of my head, and all of a sudden, Graham’s office fades away to white. Then, gradually, another room comes into focus. It’s like I’ve been transported to somewhere different. Back down to the living room of my house.
Graham is at the front door, talking to somebody. He’s keeping his voice down, but the other person isn’t. The other person is shouting. As I step closer, I recognize the voice of the person standing outside our front door.
It’s my father.
“Let me in, Graham!” my father snaps at my husband. “This isn’t right!”
“I’m afraid this is a bad time,” Graham says in a maddeningly calm voice. “Tess is resting.”
“Bullshit!” I’ve never heard my father swear before—it’s shocking. “I can see her back there. Let me talk to her!”
“Douglas, you need to keep your voice down.”
I can just barely see my father’s face over Graham’s shoulder, through the crack in the open front door. His face is bright pink like he’s furious. “I want to see my daughter. Right. Now.”
“I’m afraid not.”
“This isn’t right!” My father’s voice is hoarse now. “Tess deserves to hear the truth. You can’t do this! You can’t keep her prisoner here like this!”
“I’m Tess’s husband and guardian,” Graham says calmly. “So I get to decide what I think is right for her. That’s not your job.”
“Tess!” My name sounds like an anguished cry on my father’s lips. “Tess! I need to talk to you!”
“I’m sorry, Douglas. I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
I open my mouth, wanting to yell out to my father that I’m here, that I want to talk to him. But no words come out. I feel frozen—paralyzed. My father is a stone’s throw away, and there’s nothing I can do. Graham is preparing to lock the door to our house, shutting me inside and…
The living room fades away to white again, and now I’m back in Graham’s office. I look down and realize that I’m still gripping the key to the drawer in Graham’s desk. My fingers are trembling and sweaty, but they still work. They don’t even have to put the key in the lock. It’s already in there. All I have to do is turn it.
There’s something in this drawer that I need to see. My father knows the truth and Graham will do anything to keep him from telling me. And now, for reasons I can’t understand, Harry didn’t want me to look in the drawer. I
can’t even imagine why. Like Camila said, I deserve to know the truth. Once and for all.
So I turn the key.
