27. Ellie

27

Ellie

The attic feels like a maze of memories, each box and trunk holding pieces of the past that seem both familiar and distant. I’m determined to find the missing piece of the journals.

“Thanks for helping with this,” I tell Daniel.

“I want to get to the bottom of this too. There’s so much we don’t know about Grams. It could be related to what’s happening and then again, it might not.”

Together, we comb through the attic, carefully opening each container and sifting through its contents.

“Look at this,” Daniel calls out as he finds a loose floorboard.

He bends down and uses a tool he brought up with him to separate the board and pull it open. I walk over to him and the two of us peer inside.

There’s more canvas bags like the ones that held the money, about ten more to be exact. There’s also a small wooden box that looks like a very large old textbook on textiles.

I pull out the book and open it and realize it’s just a shell that holds two journals inside. I glance back at Daniel.

“They’re journals. Those bags are also the same that I found the money in.”“We need to tell someone about them.”

“Why? We don’t know if Grams has been hoarding all of this time or not.”

I nod. I swallow hard and pull out the two journals that are tied together with a faded ribbon. I untie the ribbon with trembling hands and start flipping through the pages. The entries are in Grams’ familiar, elegant handwriting, and as I read, I feel as if she’s speaking to me from across time.

"**July 12, 1954**

Armand is not the man I thought he was. I see it now, the darkness in his eyes when he learned I was pregnant. I thought he would be happy, that we would start a family together, but I was wrong. His anger was terrifying, and he said things that made my blood run cold. He demanded that I marry him, but not out of love. He wanted control over me and our child. When I refused, he forced me, even threatening to kill me and our unborn baby.

We are married. I never imagined it being this way.

He put me in the hospital three times in the last few months. Each time taking me to a different hospital so they wouldn’t question when I said that I fell down the steps again.

He punched me in the stomach so many times, but our daughter, she’s a fighter.

I know that I have to leave. Christian and the others are already helping me devise a plan to get away for good.

I will not allow my daughter to be born into this life."

"**August 18, 1954 **

He broke my nose and my arm this time.

I found a large sum of money hidden in his study. I took it without a second thought. I had to protect myself and my baby.

The nurse at the hospital understood what was happening to me. Armand believes I’m still in the hospital, in a coma and healing. They’ve told him that I’m not allowed visitors because of a rare infection.

Meanwhile, that kind nurse and my friends in the fashion industry, those who understood my plight, helped me. With their support, I managed to leave France without looking back. I took my mother’s maiden name and went into hiding. My dreams of becoming a world-famous designer were squashed, but I had to keep us safe.”

“**January 16, 1955**

Lorelai was born today. She’s perfect, and I love her more than I ever thought possible. It’s just the two of us now, and we’ll make it. My friends have been amazing, helping me set up a small dressmaking business. It’s not what I dreamed of, but it’s enough to keep us going. Lorelai is my world, and I will do whatever it takes to protect her.”

“** July 2, 1955**

Today I met Walter. He’s kind, gentle, and so different from Armand. He loves Lorelai as if she were his own. I’m hesitant to trust again, but I can see the goodness in him. He will be a good father to Lorelai, and maybe, just maybe, we can be a family.”

“ What did you find?” Daniel asks.

“Grams fled home and took her mother’s maiden name so she could hide from a man who was abusive. This is his money.”“She stole it?”

“Yes and…” I breathe. “They were married so I don’t believe she could be prosecuted for it.”

“Grams was married before.”

“Yes, to a man named Armand who was from Paris. She also gave birth to a daughter named Lorelai. She met Gramps when Lorelai was only a few months old.”

“Lorelai. Dad never…”

“What happened to her?”

“There’s nothing else in the journal?”

I shake my head.

As Daniel is unloading the other bags and looking through them he finds another book, it’s filled with pictures on the inside. Grams, Gramps, and a gorgeous little girl with dark brown hair.

“I look like her,” I breathe as I show one of the pictures to my brother.

“You do,” he mumbles. “Do you think… Grams will talk about any of this?”

“I don’t know. I’ll try calling her again.”

I pull out my phone but it goes directly to voicemail. I shake my head and look back at my brother.

“Did you read the other journal?”

I’d forgotten there were two.

Grams was a survivor, a woman who faced unimaginable danger and came out the other side stronger for it. She protected her daughter and built a life for them, even if it meant giving up her dreams.

But she never told anyone about it.

“**December 24, 1960**

Lorelai was kidnapped today. I know that it is Armand, but I have no proof.

She was asleep in her room. Tucked in safely last night and this morning she is gone. We’ve searched high and low, but there’s nothing.

Her favorite teddy bear is gone, that’s it.

There was a note under her pillow that said I always come back for what’s mine.

I’m devastated. Walter is devastated.

How can I go on knowing that my daughter is back with that monster?"

“Lorelai was kidnapped by Armand, I think. Grams thinks. But there’s nothing else about her anywhere. There’s nothing else about Armand. It’s all stuff about Dad being born and then the entries just stop.”“Do you think the police are going to tell us that body is Armand?”

“It’s possible. It’s the only answer right now. I… I have to get to Grams and tell her that we know and that it’s okay. If she killed him they won’t punish her for the crime when they learn that it’s self defense.”

“How are you going to find her?”

“I don’t know. I wonder if Lorelai is still alive.”

“Whoa, I didn’t think about that. What was Armand’s last name?”

“She never said.”

“This is wild,” Daniel sighs.

“I should tell Ethan about all of this.”

“What’s with you two?”

“What do you mean?”

“Are you two back together?”

I look back at my brother in silence for a few seconds before I nod.

“We are. I understand that you’re not thrilled about it, but it doesn’t change my decision. He’s changed and so have I. It’s a completely different relationship than it was six years ago. I need you to accept that, Daniel.”

He lets out an audible growl before he shakes his head. He turns around and blows out a few deep breaths.

“I’m not happy about this. I love both of you and don’t want either of you to get hurt.”

“If we do get hurt, it’s our choice to make.”

“I don’t want to lose you again, sis.”

“You won’t. I’m not that same girl that I was. I had to leave to find myself. Regardless of what happens between Ethan and me, I won’t leave again.”

He stares back at me before nodding slowly.

“I trust your judgment and I know that I can’t protect you forever.”

“Thank you.”

“What are we going to do about all of this?”

“I don’t know. Until the police tell us whose body it is, we don’t really know a lot.”

“You know, we could do one of those genetic tests. I know a lot of people who have done them and a few have found siblings or relations that no one knew existed.”

“And we’re just hoping that she’s done it too?”

“Yeah.”

“Look into that and we’ll see what happens, I guess. I’m going to check in with Deitrich and see if they have a timeline for the identification of the body.”

“What do we do about the money?”

“We certainly don’t tell anyone else about what we have until we talk to Grams.”

He nods. “Are we keeping it here?”

“No. If we hide it back where it was I don’t know that anyone else would even know it was here, but I also don’t want to risk it. Don’t you have a gun safe or something at home? I remember Mom saying you bought one..”

He nods. “Yes, it’s huge and top of the line. No one would be able to move it or get into it. I’ll put it in there.”

“Perfect. Just keep everything in those duffel bags. People would just think we were moving clothing.”

“Hello?” I hear Ethan call out.

I gesture to my brother that I’m going downstairs and he nods as he continues cleaning up.

“I’m coming!”

“Hello?” Ethan yells again.

Whiskers lets out a yowl as if she’s being attacked. I look over to see her back is arched and the hair is standing straight up as if she’s about to pounce on some sort of prey.

Salem, one of her black and white kittens comes sprinting up the stairs also howling and spitting.

What’s happening?

I step cautiously down the attic stairs, cradling the precious journal against my chest. The scent of old wood and dust fills the air, mingling with a faint, acrid smell that pricks at my nose. I pause, sniffing the air more intently. Gasoline. Panic floods my veins.

“Elena? Elena?”’

His voice sounds different, muffled and slurred.

I take another step down, but the smell of gasoline is overpowering now. My heart hammers in my chest. Something is terribly wrong.

“Ethan!” I shout, trying to project my voice. “I’m coming down!”

“Elena, don’t come down!” Keeley screams. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

“What? Keeley, what’s going on?”

“I have a gun and I’ll use it!” I hear Keeley hiss.

What the fuck is happening? Is she saying that to me?

“Bitch, don’t play with me,” a muffled voice laughs.

“Elena!” I hear Ethan call out again.

Glass shatters below, and a whoosh of flame erupts, roaring up the stairs. I recoil, staring in horror as the bottom of the stairs is engulfed in flames. The fire dances hungrily, reaching out toward me with fiery fingers.

I fumble for my phone, my hands trembling as I dial 9-1-1. “Please, please, please,” I whisper, my breath hitching in panic.

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”

“There’s a fire! We’re trapped in the attic!” I cry out, my voice shaking. “Please, send help!”

“No!” I hear Keeley yell before there’s a loud gunshot that rings out.

There’s a bloodcurdling scream from Keeley and someone else. I start downward, but the flames are climbing faster toward me.

I race back up the stairs, my heart pounding in my ears. “Daniel!” I shout, bursting into the attic. “There’s a fire! We’re trapped!”

Daniel is racing toward me. He’s got Whiskers and Salem in his arms.

“Was that a gunshot? What’s happening?”

“There’s gasoline downstairs, I don’t know!” I gasp, my breath coming in short, panicked bursts. “We need to get out, now!”

Daniel’s eyes widen in fear, but he nods, quickly gathering his wits. He hands me Whiskers and Salem while he stuffs the money in the nearby duffel bags. He slings them both over his shoulders.

“There’s another set of stairs,” he says, grabbing my arm. “They lead to the front of the building. Come on!”

We race across the attic, the heat from the flames below already seeping up through the floorboards. The sound of Keeley’s screams cuts through the air, filled with terror and desperation. Ethan’s voice joins hers, shouting my name, but it’s faint, as if muffled by the flames.

“Hurry, Elena!” Daniel urges, pulling me toward a hidden door at the far end of the attic. He shoves it open, revealing a narrow staircase. “This way!”

The stairs creak under our weight as we descend, the smell of smoke growing stronger with each step. My heart races, fear and adrenaline coursing through my veins. The sound of sirens wails in the distance, growing louder with each passing second.

“Hang on, we’re almost there,” Daniel says, his voice strained but determined.

We reach the bottom of the stairs and burst into a small, cluttered hallway. The front door is just ahead, but the smoke is thick here, burning my eyes and throat.

“Cover your mouth,” Daniel instructs, pulling his shirt up over his nose and mouth. I do the same, coughing as the acrid smoke fills my lungs.

Keeley’s screams echo from somewhere behind us, and I can hear the crackling roar of the flames as they consume the building. We stumble toward the front door, each step feeling like an eternity.