It was universally acknowledged Steve was not the innocent victim he portrayed in the hospital, and if he ever resurfaced, there was no doubt he’d be arrested. But this idea of Steve as a criminal was hard for Ellie to reconcile. She still hoped there was some explanation, some way to reconstruct the picture of a man she’d held as a hero for so long. Amelia, on the other hand, liked to believe he was dead; it was easier that way. Although she wanted answers, she didn’t want Steve.
Ellie was left a little off balance when Amelia filed for divorce from her hospital bed, not knowing whether Steve was alive or dead. Ellie really couldn’t blame her. Steve had lied . . . a lot, and he’d hurt so many people. Ellie knew her sister deserved more. But another part of Ellie mourned her sister’s relationship. Steve and Amelia had always been together, and when Ellie needed him, Steve had always been there. But it didn’t take long for her to notice a new person who emerged from that hospital bed—a strong, determined woman who got her real estate license and started her own business within months of almost losing her life. This new version of her sister never seemed lonely, and soon Ellie wondered how she’d gotten to the point of seeing her sister as one of Steve’s appendages rather than her own dynamic self.
Though Amelia was single, it didn’t mean she was alone. Caleb was in her life more than ever, and Ellie and Travis had bets on how long it would be until they made it official. Cora and Kate mourned their father as though he were dead and came to love Caleb in a new way. When he wasn’t taking classes at the university, Caleb was in Broadlands helping Amelia fix up the Slattery place, which she had bought in foreclosure.
Caleb helped by more than just swinging a hammer. When Chet decided to retire from firefighting and EMT work entirely, Caleb came to Ellie with an idea he wanted to offer to the experienced paramedic—Chet would serve as a full-time caregiver for her father in exchange for free housing and a generous salary provided by the savings Caleb had built up over the years. His only caveat was that Amelia never know and be told that Chet volunteered. Ellie tried to say no, but when the opportunity to leave Broadlands finally developed, she gave in, knowing she’d need to repay him one day. After the experience in the Emporium, Ellie didn’t want to like Caleb, but that selfless offer for a man who had once accused him of murder moved her, and she knew that if Amelia ever decided to trust a new man with her heart, she and the girls couldn’t ask for a more caring individual.
With her feet wrapped in the fleecy warmth of her slippers, Ellie grabbed her laptop and headed for the kitchen. The heat hadn’t clicked on yet, and she adjusted the ancient thermostat up a few clicks, finding the few dollars more in utilities completely worth it.
As the heat kicked on and the coffee started to drip into the pot, Ellie opened the lid of her computer and flipped through the sites she’d left open, some of wedding dresses, others for her classwork and Facebook. After triple-checking to make sure her assignment had gone through to her professor and bookmarking the dress she was in love with that week, she had one browser window she didn’t close.
In private-browsing mode, she typed in the web address for her e-mail. Not her main e-mail that dinged when it came into her computer or cell phone. No, this address was confidential. This e-mail address was for one person only. He’d opened it just for her. Using a stolen social media account, he forwarded her the information with a copious apology and a promise to send money. She didn’t even know if it was really him; you could pretend to be anyone on the Internet. Or at least that was what she told herself.
She didn’t know exactly why she checked that account and didn’t just turn it over to the police, just in case. Maybe it was this secret hope that they were wrong, he wasn’t dead, and if he wasn’t dead, that he wasn’t a monster. There were so many pieces missing. It was almost too painful to believe he could be so heartless. She didn’t know how to believe that about Steve. She didn’t know how to be the one to turn him in—yet.
Her heart always thumped as she put in her user name and password, hoping for and dreading an e-mail at the same time. As the page loaded, she went through the same thought process she always did. If he had written again, she would forward the e-mail to the police or she would tell Travis or . . . at least tell Amelia. She should tell someone. But she never did.
When the e-mails filled in, one at the top was highlighted in a bold lettering, and a simple numeral one stood next to the in-box icon. One new e-mail. It had been nine months since his first e-mail, and now her in-box held nearly two hundred journal-entry-like missives. The subject line read simply: Update 192. Ellie guided the on-screen arrow over the new letter and clicked.
The format was the same. Always addressed to her. One paragraph talking about activities and plans, the second reminiscing about better times, and the third asking about specific individuals, asking for forgiveness, and occasionally renewing his offer to help her leave Broadlands—forever. Then he’d sign it: Always, Steve.
She’d never actually considered going with him, but the knowledge that she could was enough. It probably wasn’t a good secret, but then again, most secrets weren’t.
Yet even in New York, she still checked the strange e-mails, compelled and comforted by them. Addicted.
Ellie shook her head, sincerely frustrated with herself. Because she was a bad sister? Because she was a bad fiancée? Because he was her nieces’ father? Because she thought she could save Steve, bring him back from the dead?
Travis coughed from their bedroom, signaling that he was awake for his shift. Ellie jumped, her already racing heart beating harder. Always careful to cover her tracks, she signed out of the e-mail account, cleared the history, closed the browser, and snapped the cover shut. If Travis ever found out . . . She didn’t even want to think about it.
With one shove she pushed the computer to the side of the counter and took out her favorite mug, the one Amelia and the girls had given her for her birthday that year. It had a picture of Ellie and Amelia showing their necklaces, Amelia still in her hospital bed and Ellie in her paramedic’s uniform. Around the lip of the cup in black letters it said, Thanks a Bunch for Saving My Life. Ellie laughed so hard when she unwrapped that gift; the way her sister could make a joke out of something so horrible was just one of a million reasons she loved her.