Return to Red Creek Nathan Hystad (e books free to read .txt) 📖

it. You were with me at the neighbor lady’s house while she spoke of all the homeowners and tenants bailing on the house, until the bank foreclosed it for good.” She was panting, out of breath.

Brent jogged over to her and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close. “Babe, I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry. I believe you.”

She wasn’t sure if he truly did, or if he was just trying to appease the irrational girlfriend, but either way, at least he wasn’t picking a fight. Now wouldn’t be a good time for that.

Isabelle was beside them, staring at the condo. “Let’s take a walk,” she said, and she slipped her arm through Taylor’s, leading her past the gate.

Taylor took a big gulp, expecting to feel something as her foot planted on the gravel within the orchard’s boundary. She waited but felt nothing but a light breeze on her face and the sunlight pouring from the clearing skies.

She spotted a few sporadic apple trees: remnants of the previous owners or newly established, she wasn’t sure. They weren’t very tall, so she suspected someone had planted them when the condo was being developed.

A few shady-looking residents were huddled around a lower unit with a field-facing patio. They glanced at the incoming trio suspiciously but continued talking amongst themselves.

“I think we should go. There’s nothing here for us,” Taylor said, glad she felt nothing but anxiety at seeing her parents.

She glanced up, catching a woman watching them in the window.

“Tay, you coming?” Brent asked, and Taylor nodded, taking one last look where the older lady had been staring. The form was only a shadow behind drawn curtains, and Taylor turned, catching up to the others.

Minutes later, they were heading into town, the orchard nothing but a speck in the rearview mirror.

_______________

Paul thrummed with energy, and he pushed the cup of coffee away from him. It slid on the table, a drop of brown liquid dripping from the stained rim onto the wood surface. “She is going to get an earful,” he said, not having to say who “she” was, or what “she” was going to get an earful of.

“They’ll be here soon. I was hoping the wait would relax you,” Beth said.

Isabelle had texted her mom that they were on their way home. That had been ten minutes ago. At least her daughter responded to her ceaseless texts and phone calls. Taylor hadn’t so much as sent an emoticon all day.

They’d arrived three hours ago. Three long hours. Paul had wanted to drop Terri and Stevie off at Beth’s and go looking for Taylor, but the two women had ganged up on him and told him to stay put. Even then, he’d been calm, until Beth got a phone call from a friend, saying a boy was taken from his bedroom in the middle of the night. It was happening again, Paul could feel it, and he didn’t like it one bit.

“I’m going out,” he said, getting up from the table just as the front door opened. He couldn’t get to the front door soon enough. Taylor was behind Isabelle, and she tilted her head up, a sheepish look across her face. “Taylor!” Paul hugged her, pulling her in close. He hardly noticed the young man beside her, and he felt her hands press against his chest, pushing him away.

“Dad, I’m fine. I’m sorry for worrying you so much.” As if to prove her concern, she wiped away a tear that broke his heart.

Stevie was running past Paul, jumping at his sister. He was at the age where loving your older sister was cool. Paul suspected that wouldn’t last more than another year or two, especially with their age difference. “Taylor! What have you been doing? Dad is pissed,” Stevie said, getting a laugh from the three younger adults in the room.

Paul almost laughed but saw Terri sneak up behind him. “Watch your mouth, Stevie. Only grownups say that word.” Paul knew the kid liked to say a few other swear words too, but he was a good kid, and you were only young and free once.

“You know better,” Terri was saying, giving her daughter a hug. Now Taylor was crying, and Paul watched as she looked at the boy beside her, while he tried to pretend he didn’t see her tears.

Beth called from the kitchen, “Don’t just stand in the entryway. Everyone inside. Scoot. Get to the table,” she said, using her best “mother” tone, and it worked. They eased their way through the living room and toward the dining room table. Paul waited and grabbed Taylor’s arm lightly, wanting a quick moment before they started the interrogation.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly. As angry as he was with her, he was so relieved to see her standing there, healthy and beautiful.

“I’m fine, Dad. I… I found some things you’re going to want to hear about.” Taylor locked eyes with him, and he knew it was important.

“What kind of stuff?” he asked, feeling his skin flush and his heart rate pick up speed. She’d done exactly what he would have: digging up the past.

“Things about…” She leaned in close. “…our family. I know when it started.”

Paul’s jaw dropped. “We have to talk about this.”

“How freely do we want to talk about it?” Taylor asked, glancing toward the kitchen.

“They’re family with the Smiths too. They have the right to know,” Paul said. As much as he didn’t want to know what information she’d found regarding the Smiths, he couldn’t let her carry the burden alone.

“Schmidts,” she said softly.

“What?”

“It’s all in the journal,” Taylor muttered.

“What journal?”

“The one Brent and I found tucked away at your childhood home,” she said.

Paul slapped a palm to his thigh. “I knew it! Didn’t I tell you she would have hidden something like that?”

Taylor smiled cockily. “Where do you think I got the idea from?”

“God, are you ever my daughter. We better get in there before they think we’re conspiring again.” Paul grinned at her,