Chapter 7

Bayla

There was only garbage on the Internet. Neither under wild wolves nor in the search for missing persons cases in combination with Blairville was anything to be found. A single page, a chat in the forum on the Vanderwood University webpage, had popped up, and I had joined a heated discussion about the missing student, but it had been locked the next moment.

What remained was the website of the local news station, Blairville Daily , on which in every third picture a Joe with synthetic cheeks grinned into the camera, in every second video his wife Harriet, who wore a blond perm and like a bird of prey on the prowl attacked unsuspecting pedestrians and forced them to give interviews, or the young reporter's daughter who apparently wrote the town's newspaper and gathered a massive reporter team of young men around her. The only one who seemed like a normal person was their son, the weatherman, Oliver.

The more time I spent on the Bexley's page, the more I understood why Mum didn't want me to listen to the news.

Frustrated, I slammed the laptop shut.

I had given up arguing with my mother. While I would sooner or later forgive her for forcing me to let Julian take me to university, I resented her for not telling me about such important things as her new job. We were a family, and I should know about such things. But I was getting more and more convinced that Mum disagreed.

Still annoyed, I rose from the bed and hung my blue dress over one of the free hangers. The wrinkles it had gotten overnight, because I had just thrown it in the corner out of rage, stretched all over the fabric.

I had to think about yesterday again. That dinner had been the biggest disaster in a long time. Julian's pompous manner had driven me incredibly insane. And then my mother...

I had to be careful that nothing crazy happened to my arms. That's why I had jumped up and had run to my room. Just because of that. Upstairs, I had taken two pills and immediately went to sleep.

Fortunately, nothing more had happened. But after I had woken up this morning, I had regretted it because, right after that, the usual headache had started again.

Now I was standing here in my room, trying to clean up the mess that had been made over the last few days. I had to admit to myself that I was not tidiness personified. Clothes lined the white carpet, and between them were sheets of paper and scribbled notes.

I bent down to pick it all up, just tossing the used clothes into the nearest corner. Orderly chaos was still better than disorderly chaos.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

I didn't have to turn around to know my mum was standing in the doorway.

Instead, I continued to sort through the paperwork I had to turn in to the office on Monday. They were the visa, my mum's bank account details and scholarship evidence.

"...I just didn't want to catch you off guard."

Well, that's exactly what she had done with that.

Within the last two days, there had been so many disagreements and conflicts between us that it was just getting on my nerves. I didn't know her like that at all. It was getting to the point where I thought this town had something to do with it, but I didn't want to go that far yet.

"I understand if you're mad at me now."

Oh yes , and how mad I was. Even my guilty conscience couldn't change that. It still reminded me that I was going through all this for her . So that she would soon feel better again and we could get out of here.

Eventually, I overcame my pride and turned to her.

"I'm not mad at you," I snorted.

A lie. Just for her.

Mum came over to me and stroked my left cheek with her warm hand. Something she often did when I was feeling bad.

"I'm still sorry sweetheart," she whispered, and there was something desperate in her voice. As if she still wanted to tell me so much, but couldn't. I knew it was her illness that made her so emotional. The reason I needed to be there for her now.

"It's okay, you don't have to apologize, Mum," I finally replied a little more gently.

Then, I broke free of my stupor and went to the dresser to sort through the little jewelry I actually owned. It distracted me a bit and made me forget about the last few days. There was something positive about all this tidying up. But Mum was still standing in my room as if she was not yet satisfied with the situation.

"Are you getting ready, honey? We're leaving in fifteen minutes."

Questioningly, I turned back to her. "Where to?"

Possibly another surprise that would surely knock me off my feet with excitement. Not.

"Well, you wanted to go down to the harbor, to the market..."

On the drive to Blairville, I had already seen the harbor from a distance, but it seemed much larger to me now that I could overlook the entire area.

A massive wooden pier, to which large and small sailboats were moored and from which a long pier led out to sea, joined the promenade. The surface of the water shimmered under the sun's rays, but the next moment, one of the fat storm clouds pushed in front of it and cast the entire city in a gloomy shadow.

Immediately, I wondered if it was possible to go to a beach somewhere here. The water was probably icy, but it would be a welcome refreshment in these unusually high temperatures at these latitudes. It had to be around twenty-eight degrees because it was pleasantly warm. The heat in California would have been too much for me now, and yet I missed it—just as I missed Larissa.

She had finally read my old message and texted me when we had been on our way downtown.

Yet she knew I hadn't been in any relationships since David.

I answered a bit enviously, and then we had arrived.

Later, we would continue texting. Hopefully .

I stood on a stone staircase that led down to the sprawling marketplace, which was bustling with a surprising number of people. Around me, apartment buildings alternated with small shops where residents and tourists went in and out. I couldn't exactly tell them apart, but some had different accents and an older man had asked us for directions to a place called Lola's Diner . I didn't know where it was, but luckily, I had my mother with me. She knew her way around here surprisingly well, which made me wonder if she had ever been away.

"It's good to be back," Mum sighed with a smile, as if she had read my mind. She stood next to me, looking over the stall-filled square as if we were in paradise.

"Why did you move away then?"

She had probably left for further study.

"You know there aren't the best job opportunities here. At least, there weren't back then."

Obviously, there were better job opportunities now. And the fact that Mum had an official permanent position at the DeLoughrey Science Center , or DLSC , didn't make it any better for me. On the contrary. The chances were not good that I would be going back to California anytime soon.

In theory, yes , I could move out and do whatever I wanted, especially since I would be eighteen in two days. But I lacked the financial means to do such thing and so I was at the mercy of my mother's plans until I got my desired university degree and a steady job. Which meant I was pretty much screwed. And I wasn't Larissa, who would have just done that.

I wonder what she was up to right now. I'm sure she had hooked up with one of those countless guys who were always following her around, and was using him as a photo object on the beach. Two of her weaknesses in one sentence.

Mum winked at me encouragingly, and together we strode down the stairs that led us directly to the market.

Colorful stalls, mainly those of fruit and vegetable vendors, lined the square.

We turned into a row of stalls selling old stuff. Colorful jewelry, cute pendants, and abstruse items filled the tables.

Next, we entered an aisle with slightly fewer people.

Beaming with joy, I looked at Mum.

She returned my smile.

"Look around here all you want. I'm two rows over by the fruits and vegetables."

Before she had spoken, I was at the first stall.

I found myself in an aisle that was almost teeming with books. At this stall, there were however rather older copies, which must originate from the 19th century.

Interested, I rummaged through the books in front of me. These were mainly old town histories of Blairville.

I raised my eyebrows.

A wonder you could fill pages with something like that...about a town like that .

The old lady behind the booth smiled kindly at me before turning back to her knitting.

I tried to ignore the black raven on the wooden post of the stand and let my eyes wander further over the books – there were really a lot of nice ones – until I got stuck on a brown one.

The cover had to be made of leather and I could see a kind of seal in the middle of the cover. Instinctively, I reached for it to run my finger over the fine details. They were vine-like ornaments that formed a circle around a dragonfly located in the center. Its eyes were made of tiny blue stones and reminded me of the necklace Mum had given me for my sixteenth birthday.

It had to be somewhere in my jewelry box because I didn't like wearing it that much. The fear of losing it was too big.

When I opened the first page, I was disappointed to find that it was empty. I kept turning the pages, but it turned out that it wasn't really a book. Whoever had made this thing must have had some fun. They cut out the contents and worked on it so that it had become some kind of box. Now, it was possible to store some smaller things in it.

Maybe it wasn't so bad after all....

Intrigued, I looked for a price tag but discovered nothing.

"Excuse me, how much is this?" I finally asked the little woman with the gray hair and the black lace headscarf, who put aside her knitting and came over to me. She was a bit older, maybe in her mid-sixties, and her walk was slightly heavy. However, none of this seemed to affect her cheerful disposition. Before looking at the book, she gave me a friendly look.

"Oh, that. And here I was thinking no one would ever like it," she joked, "You're the first to discover its little secret." Her eyes sparkled as soon as she smiled. "So, you can have it for five dollars."

Astonished, I looked at her and immediately shook my head.

"Five dollars?" That would never do this book justice. I had expected to pay at least thirty dollars. After all, the cover was leather and just the two little stones....

It must have sounded to the woman like it still cost me too much because she replied, "You can have it for three dollars, then."

"No, absolutely not. I'm sure this pretty book is worth much more."

"Well, I haven't been able to sell it in the last two years, though, and you look like you like it a lot."

She was right about that. And yet I would give her more money.

I reached for my wallet to pay, but it wasn't in my jacket pocket.

Crap... I must have forgotten it at home.

Carefully, I put the book back on the table.

"I'll be right back. Please don't sell it yet," I said to the woman before turning around and heading off to find Mum.

It wasn't long before I spotted her at a large vegetable stand. I hurried over to her.

"Mum? Can I borrow some money from you? I left my wallet at home and..."

Mum, who had been talking, less than a minute ago, turned to me with a jerk. At that second, I realized that she had just been engaged in conversation with a woman her own age, who was now eyeing me with a curious look. I immediately recognized her resemblance to the young woman in the photo I had found in that strange room. In contrast to the dark brown waves, her hair was as short as my own and straight.

She smiled kindly at me, and at that moment, I knew it was not the same woman as in the photo. She lacked the memorable dimples. And her eyes were a dark blue.

"I didn't know you had a daughter, Diana," she remarked in surprise, looking at my mum with a look that could have meant anything.

The way she spoke to my mother, it had to be a former friend. I wonder if she had something to do with the woman in the picture.

Anyway, Mum looked visibly tense now.

"Bay, this is Amara Blair, the mayor of Blairville, an old friend of mine," she replied awkwardly.

The mayor of this cursed hick town I'd ended up in?

Mum had never told me anything about an Amara Blair , as far as I could remember.

It occurred to me that she had drawn a clear line between her old life and her new life , which now, at the latest, vanished into thin air. I felt like I knew nothing about her old life, and this Amara knew nothing about her new one.

The two of us could certainly have sat in a coffee shop for days and talked at length about my mother without ever getting bored.

I dismissed that bizarre thought because that was definitely not going to happen.

"So, who did she get her training from?"

This time, I was the one who looked surprised.

Had Mum told her about my karate class? But why? And why was that the first question she asked regarding me?

Usually, the first questions were, "This is your daughter? She hardly looks like you. She must take after her father. Where is he anyway?" or "How old are you? What, so young? You look much older." But no , the first thing Amara Blair asked was who had trained me .

Mum hesitated before turning to me and saying, "Wait a minute, Mara.... How much do you need, honey?"

"Just a little bit. I was going to buy a book..."

If Mum had heard the suspicion from my voice, she skillfully ignored it.

"Here, keep the change. You can look around somewhere else when you're done. I'll catch up with you."

I didn't want to be intrusive, and besides, there was a beautiful book waiting for its new owner, so I turned away from them again and headed back to the little woman's booth. Still, curiosity wouldn't let go of me about why the mayor of Blairville had been so interested in my athletic life. Was she perhaps an amateur coach? Or maybe she was just a little weird, like everything else in this town.

Luckily, when I arrived at the booth, the book was still where I had left it.

"Here..." I pressed the money, which looked somewhat unfamiliar to me, into the smiling lady's hands. "And the amount is right like this."

I certainly hoped it was right. I didn't really know how much value the Canadian dollar banknotes had compared to the American ones.

"But that's twenty..." the lady wanted to start, but I quickly interrupted her.

"The book is worth a lot more, believe me."

For a moment, it looked like the older lady was going to make another objection, but then a grateful smile spread across her face.

"Thank you, girl." She stowed the money in her sewing box, and confused, I looked into the empty compartments. Didn't she have a cash box? "Have fun with this special one. And always guard your shadow," she said before handing me the book wrapped in kraft paper.

I stared at the woman, perplexed.

"Excuse me?"

The woman's smile faded, and she stared at me with blank eyes. Then she smiled again and reached for her knitting.

I forced myself to head back to Mum. As I did so, I suppressed the strange urge to turn back to the woman. Probably, I had misheard.

The other stalls, although teeming with books everywhere, didn't appeal to me much. Worn covers or even coverless paper crumbs that looked like they'd been found in the nearest ditch gutter.

In my opinion, if you owned books, you had to make sure they stayed in a neat condition so that the next person was able to read them again without suddenly turning from page seven to page 246.

I went back to the vegetable stand, hoping that Mum was still standing there.

She was.

"...I mean it. Bring her to us. You know it's not up to me, and if Gloria finds out about her, you won't have a choice."

"But she doesn't know about it, and nothing has happened yet."

Mum was still talking to Amara.

"I won't tell Gloria, but if anything happens here that isn't of human nature and involves your daughter..."

Amara must have spotted me because, all of a sudden, she stopped talking. Mum also turned to me quickly, and I couldn't help but notice her worried look.

What had they been talking about? And who on earth was Gloria now? Surely another friend she had left behind. So many names and people my mother had never told me about.

Unbelievable.

But it wasn't the name that had scared me so much.

What had she meant when she had said what was not human in nature ?

Did Amara think I had a tendency toward violence? What in God's name had Mum told her about me? Had she spilled the tea about my ninth-grade karate accident?

"Who is Gloria?" it blurted out of me just like that.

Mum's cheeks turned pink, which made me even more suspicious.

All this sneaking around was starting to get on my nerves. If this went on, sooner or later I would have to confront Mum. Without consideration for losses.

"An... old friend of ours."

Ah, yes. Something wasn't right here. But I couldn't tell what it was.

My gaze slid to Amara, but she wasn't as speechless as Mum. She twisted her face to stifle a grin.

Were these old insiders from days gone by? Could someone please enlighten me?

"Oh yes, the good old days. Aren't they, Diana?" she finally added. Then the mayor looked around briefly before turning to me, and the color had completely drained from my mother's cheeks.

"Enjoy the time you have here. Vanderwood is really a great place." Amara's gaze moved from me to my mum, who was still standing rooted to the spot. "And I'm sure we'll see each other soon." Then she looked at me again, this time regretfully. "See you, Bayla."

"Nice to meet you..." I lied in embarrassment, looking after Amara until she disappeared around a stand with her basket of greens.

I turned slowly to face Mum.

She must have recovered from her shock, because she looked as if this strange encounter had never happened.

"Do you have any more friends I should possibly know about?"

She looked around and lowered her voice. "Bay, there are reasons why I haven't told you everything."

Her excuse sounded lax and didn't answer my question.

What else could I expect here, somewhere in the middle of nowhere?

Maybe I should keep asking, but somehow, I didn't want to be intrusive, either. There had to be a reason why Mum was dealing with her past the way she was. Maybe something had happened back then that had caused her to move to the States. And this time, I wasn't thinking about anything like a career. What if someone here had broken her heart? The thought that it might have been my father triggered an unsettling feeling in my chest. Because even if it made me curious, it was odd to think about someone I didn't even know. Even more so, approaching my mother about it was a thought that didn't make me feel good. She had never said anything or had always avoided me.

What if he hadn't run away at all... but she had? What had he done to her?

I felt sick.

No... I shouldn't think about something like that. Maybe it was really like she had told me. Maybe he was just an asshole who had never contacted us again.

Slowly but surely, I buried all hope of any answers.

I had to stop asking constant questions that bothered my mum and reminded her of something she might have successfully repressed her whole life.

From now on, I would keep quiet and focus on her future and mine. Because the worst thing I could do would be to open up old wounds. Wounds that had perhaps long since healed.

I decided it wasn't worth all that. Because if there was one thing I knew, it was that I wanted what was best for my mum. She needed time. And I would give her that.