The Lake House

Lily's POV

I waited until the house was asleep.

Ethan had fallen asleep a little after eleven, with one arm thrown over his eyes and Duke stretched across the foot of the bed. I lay on my sofa in the dark and listened to him breathe. Every few minutes, I touched the card in my pocket to make sure it was still there.

Come alone. If you bring the Blackwoods, the truth dies with me.

I knew it was a trap. I wasn't stupid. But all my life, I had believed I knew who I was. I was Lily Carter, the daughter of a woman who worked two jobs and sang in our tiny kitchen. Now I didn't know anything anymore. And the only person who had the answer was the woman who had tried to kill my husband.

At half past eleven, I got up. I put on my old jeans and the gray sweater I had brought from home, the only clothes in that house that were really mine. I picked up my shoes and carried them in my hand.

At the door, I stopped and looked back at Ethan.

I almost woke him. I almost told him everything. But I thought about Margaret's words, the truth dies with me, and I thought about how he would never let me go. So I wrote him a short note on the back of a receipt and left it on my pillow.

I'm sorry. I had to find out. I'll be back before morning. Lily.

Duke lifted his head and watched me. I put a finger to my lips. He didn't bark, but he whined very softly as I closed the door.

The taxi I had called was waiting at the bottom of the hill, where the guards couldn't see it. The driver didn't talk, and I was glad. I texted Carla to make sure the guard was still outside Noah's door. She wrote back right away that he was asleep and safe, and only then could I breathe. We drove out of the city and into the dark, past empty fields and black trees, until the road turned to gravel and the lights of the last town were far behind us.

The lake house sat at the end of a long dirt road. It was bigger than I expected, made of dark wood and glass, with a wide porch that looked out over the water. Only one window was lit. The moon was shining on the lake, and everything was so quiet that I could hear the water hitting the shore.

"You want me to wait?" the driver asked.

"Yes," I said. "Please. I won't be long."

I walked up the steps. The front door was open.

Inside, a fire was burning in a big stone fireplace. Margaret Sinclair sat in a chair beside it, wearing the same long blue coat Carla had described. She had a glass of white wine in her hand, and she smiled when she saw me, like I was a guest she had been looking forward to.

"Lily," she said. "You came. And alone, too. Good girl."

"Don't call me that," I said.

She laughed softly. "Sit down. You look cold."

"I'll stand."

"As you like." She took a slow sip of her wine. "I'll be honest with you, since that seems to be your new favorite thing. I didn't think you would come. I thought you would run straight to Ethan with my little card. But you didn't. That tells me you want this very badly."

"You said you would tell me who my mother was," I said. My voice was shaking, and I hated it. "So tell me."

Margaret put her glass down on the small table beside her. Then she picked up something I hadn't seen, a tiny plastic band, yellow with age. She held it up so the firelight caught it.

It was a hospital bracelet. The kind they put on newborn babies.

"St. Mary's Hospital," Margaret read. "Baby girl Sinclair. March twelfth." She turned it in her fingers. "Do you know where I found this, Lily? Around the ankle of a baby who was not mine."

The floor seemed to drop away under me.

"So it's true," I whispered.

"I didn't say that," Margaret said. "I said I would tell you. I didn't say it would be free."

She reached into her coat and took out a folded paper and a pen. She held them out to me.

"Divorce papers," she said. "Already signed by a very good lawyer who owes me a favor. You sign Vanessa's name at the bottom, the same way you did at your little bedside wedding. Then you get in that taxi, you pick up your brother, and you leave this city forever. And before you go, I'll tell you everything. Your mother's name. Why it happened. All of it."

I stared at the papers. I thought about Ethan asleep with his arm over his eyes. I thought about the way he had kissed me, and the way he had laughed with Noah over a cup of pudding.

"And if I say no?" I asked.

Margaret's smile didn't change. "Then you'll never know who you are."

For a long moment, the only sound was the fire.

Then I stepped back.

"No," I said.

Margaret's eyebrows went up. "No?"

"I don't need to know that badly," I said. "Not if the price is leaving him alone with you. You poisoned him. You sat with my brother and scared him half to death. I'm not signing anything you give me."

Something cold moved behind Margaret's eyes. She stood up slowly and put the bracelet back in her pocket.

"That's a shame," she said. "You really are your mother's daughter. She was stubborn too."

"You knew her," I said. "You knew my real mother."

"Better than anyone," Margaret said.

She walked past me toward the door. I turned to follow her, but she was faster than I expected. She stepped outside, and the heavy door slammed shut behind her. I heard a key turn in the lock.

"Margaret!" I grabbed the handle and pulled. It didn't move. "Open the door!"

Through the glass, I watched her walk down the steps to the gravel. My taxi was gone. In its place sat a gray car with its lights off. Richard got out of the driver's side and opened the door for her.

I ran to the back of the house. The kitchen door was locked too. Every window I tried was sealed shut.

Then I smelled it.

Gas. Sweet and sharp and everywhere, coming from the kitchen, where every knob on the big black stove had been turned all the way on.

And behind me, in the living room, the fire was still burning.