Page 52 of Knowing Amelia

“So, they got married?” I blurt the words. The picture is dated, but there’s Janie Heyborn in a cream-colored church dress with the biggest smile I’ve ever seen on anyone’s face. Next to her, in a white shirt and brown tie, is Joseph, so happy that a dimple, very much like his son’s, indents in his right cheek. They’re a handsome couple and look as if they belong together.

“They knew they would marry one day anyway.”

“Are all you Heyborns so certain of the choices you make?”

“I guess it’s in our blood.” Logan takes the picture from my hands and looks it over once before replacing it on the wall.

“How soon after did you come along?”

“Thirteen years.” He studies me just like he did his parents’ photo seconds ago. “They were young and not quite ready to be parents, so they took their time. Mom used to say all she wanted in this life was to walk hand in hand through the park with Dad until they were ninety—that and me, of course.” His gaze breaks from mine as he turns to his plate. “All she ever wanted was time.”

My brows cinch. “To ask for so little and to be denied it—it’s cruel.”

“She’s still with him. Cruel would have been leaving her here without him.”

I don’t have a reply for that. I don’t understand that kind of love—even with all the books I’ve read. I place the last bite from my plate into my mouth, and silence settles over us.

Taking both our plates, Logan heads to the sink and fills the basin with suds.

“I’ll wash,” I say, bumping him out of the way with my hip.

“Okay.” He hands me a clean dishrag and waits for a dish to dry.

I inhale a breath. I haven’t exactly been stalling. But I haven’t been sharing either. “So, you said you’d make dinner, and you did.” My heart skips. “I said I’d share my secret, but I asked you a million questions instead.”

Logan tosses his dishcloth over his shoulder. “I thought maybe you changed your mind.”

“No.” I pause my scrubbing and peer over at him. “I haven’t.” If anything, he’s made me feel more certain.

He waits—so patient. So unlike Benjamin.

I breathe in citrusy suds and musky Logan at my side. His shoulder brushes mine, and I try to collect my thoughts. A shaky breath leaves me, and I begin. “The last time I saw Amelia, I was eleven years old. The same trip when I first saw you. My grandpa Burt had died. I expected her to be sad and upset, but she never showed much emotion around us.” I swallow and hand Logan the last dish.

He dries the pan and returns it to his cupboard, then motions for me to follow him. “Let’s sit down.”

I trail behind him, heart thumping, and sit on Logan’s couch. The drawn curtains and the single lamp in the corner leave the room dim.

I tuck my legs beneath me, making myself comfortable beside him. I can do this. I can tell Logan.

I start talking as if I never stopped. “The day before the funeral, my parents went to Cody. My siblings went with them, but I didn’t feel well. So, I stayed behind. Amelia had offered to take care of me. I was terrified.”

He doesn’t interrupt, but I can see the furrow of his brow. He’s confused by my fear. He never knew the cold, intimidating Amelia that I knew.

“I slept most of the day in her spare bedroom, but when I couldn’t sleep anymore, I decided to go after my books. I’d left them in her living room. I didn’t want to see her. So, I was quiet and sneaky. And I made sure she wasn’t near before going down. That’s when I heard her. She was crying.” My palms go sweaty as I speak my story aloud for the first time. “I couldn’t help it. I followed the noise and crept into the dining area. She was on her knees, her back facing me, with several floorboards popped out of place. There was a box next to her.” A trembling breath makes its way through my chest and out my mouth. “She cried out the name Seth.”

“Seth?” Logan says, speaking for the first time.

“Yes, I’m certain of what I heard. She repeated the name Seth.” I shake my head, reliving that moment. “I was so confused. I knew Grandpa had died, I knew she should be crying and sad, but Grandpa’s name was Burt.”

“So, your fascination with the flooring⁠—”

“Yes!” I blurt, inching closer to him. “She’d clearly pulled that box out of the ground, and I had to know if she’d left anything behind. My imagination has been running wild for eleven years, without ever discussing it with anyone.”

Logan scoffs. “Wait. You haven’t told anyone? Not even your parents?”

“No one.” I shake my head, hearing Amelia’s sobs so clearly in my mind. “This secret belonged to her, not me. I couldn’t do that to her.” A tremor makes its way through my body. “Even if I didn’t understand her. But Logan, she gave me her house, knowing I’d seen her and her hiding place.”

“Wait, she saw you? You said her back was to you.” His words feel as urgent as mine, and my heart drums faster.