Letters in the Attic(57)

“Annie.” She leaned her rake against the wall. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m sorry to drop in on you again, Sandy, but I need to talk to you.”

Sandy dusted off her hands and gestured to the wrought-iron chairs on the back porch. “I don’t know what there is to talk about. I didn’t really know Susan, and I can’t tell you anything about her.”

She sat down and so did Annie.

“Is there any reason why you wouldn’t want me to find out about her?”

Annie studied her face, awaiting her answer. Susan would probably look like her now if she were still alive. It was hard to tell. Those teen years were so long ago. But there was something about her that made Annie remember. It was more a feeling than anything tangible.

“Why would you think that?”

Sandy didn’t answer right away, and when she did, her voice contained a little thread of uncertainty.

“I don’t know.”

Somehow Annie couldn’t see Sandy doing anything that would harm or threaten anyone. There was something gentle and easily hurt about her. She had seen the same thing in Susan all those years ago.

“I didn’t tell you before, but someone left an anonymous note at my house a while ago. It was made up of letters cut from a newspaper pasted on a piece of blank paper. It said, ‘Forget about Susan and mind your own business.’ Who would have left me something like that?”

Sandy shook her head. “It wasn’t me. I don’t even drive.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything. But I don’t know anyone else with a connection to Susan here in Stony Point. You don’t think your husband would have left something like that, do you?”

“No, of course not. Why would he? Susan was dead before I even met him.”

“You said earlier that you knew Susan had drowned.”

“Yes.”

“When did you find out?”

Sandy shrugged. “I don’t know. Several years ago, I guess. I don’t exactly remember when.”

“How did you find out?”

“Someone—someone told me. Why are you asking me all this? I tell you, I didn’t leave you any note.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything.” Annie put her hand over Sandy’s. “I just want to know what’s going on, and why someone doesn’t want me looking into Susan’s past.”

Sandy shrugged again, this time with a ghost of a smile. “Maybe whoever it was didn’t want you wasting your time on a memory.”

Annie sighed. “You really can’t tell me anything else about Susan?”

“I really can’t.” Sandy looked out over the backyard, and there was a little quaver in her voice. “But thank you for caring about her enough to try to find out more.”

They were both silent for another moment and then Annie stood up.

“I’m sorry to have bothered you again. I’d still like us to be friends, though. I mean, if you ever feel like company.”

Sandy stood, too, and walked with her toward the front of the house. “I’m sure we both have plenty to keep us busy. Anyway, I’m fine here on my own.”

They were at the big oak now, and Annie gave it one last fond look.

“I’ve always liked this tree. Oaks are so reliable.”

“They say this one was planted when they built the house,” Sandy said, “so I guess it’s pretty old.”

Annie put her hand on one of the weathered strips of wood that had once been a ladder up into the tree limbs, and from what she remembered from her girlhood, nearly into the sky.

“I always loved playing up there.”

Sandy looked up into the swaying branches. “Almost like playing in the clouds.”

Annie looked at her, and Sandy’s eyes widened. Then she laughed softly. “All kids pretend that, don’t they?”

“The only one ever I knew was Susan,” Annie said.

Sandy shrugged, still half smiling. “Then that’s where I must have gotten it from. That first time my dad brought me here, when she and I were very young.”

Annie looked at her, studying her face, the nuances of her expression, the touch of uncertainty in her wide blue eyes. She couldn’t possibly be—

“I have a lot to do.” Sandy ducked her dark head. “Thanks for coming by, but I do need to go.”

Before Annie could find her voice, Sandy had scurried into the house and shut the door.

Playing in the clouds.

Once again, Annie looked up into the tree and then toward the silent house.

“Susan?”

****

She had found her. She had found Susan.

Annie knew it now without a doubt, and without a doubt Susan knew that Annie knew. It was almost surreal to think that, all this time, Susan had lived right here in Stony Point, pretending to be Sandy Maxwell. And still she was pretending.