It was her aunt. The face was the same one she’s seen in her father’s yearbook. The same face she’d seen in the vision covered in blood. But the similarities between her and Natasha were too strong to be a coincidence.
Right then, Della knew the lie Natasha had mentioned in her diary. She’d been adopted. And she also knew the tie between the ghost and Natasha. They were mother and daughter.
Natasha was her cousin.
But how could that be? Her aunt would have barely been a teen when the child would have been born. Della quickly did the math, guessing ages, and realized her aunt could have been fifteen or sixteen.
Show her. The ghost’s words seemed to echo in the house, but Della figured only she could hear them.
Show her what? Then Della suddenly knew. She reached into her pocket for the photo. “I … Chan gave this to me.” It was a lie, but what else could she say? The truth certainly wouldn’t suffice.
Her aunt’s hand shook as she took the picture. Her breathing came quicker. When she looked up, her eyes shimmered with tears. “I have searched for this picture.” She blinked several times and then swallowed.
“She’s my cousin, isn’t she?” Della asked.
Her aunt nodded then looked back down at the photo. Slowly, she ran her finger over the image of Chan and then Natasha. “Yes. I…” She blinked and a few tears slipped from her short black lashes. “She showed up on my doorstep, and I knew before she even spoke to me that she was my niece. She is so much like her mother.” Her voice shook a little. “I had to tell her. Tell her the truth. She cried and I cried with her.”
Bao Yu moved closer. What truth? Ask her for the truth.
“What did you tell her, Aunt Miao? What is the truth?”
“That her mother … is gone. But Bao Yu loved her. She only gave her away because our parents couldn’t accept it. They were old-school. And the father’s parents would not even accept it was his child. She didn’t have a choice. She had to give her away. She was told that the child would go to a family with some Asian heritage. That they would love her.”
I wanted to keep her. The ghost’s voice rang out in desperation. I cried so hard when they took her away from me. She was my baby. Mine!
Another question sat on the tip of Della’s tongue. She needed to ask, needed to know. “How? How did Bao Yu die?”
Her aunt closed her eyes. “She was killed. And now Natasha is gone, too. Like Chan. Why does life give us something so precious and then take it away?”
Natasha’s not dead, Della told herself, and fought to believe it.
“How? How did she die?”
“I’m told it was a car accident. It was only a month ago.”
“No, not Natasha. How did Bao Yu die?” The temperature in the room grew colder. Even Della’s skin prickled with goose bumps. Her aunt Miao folded her arms from the chill and, if her expression was any indication, from the memory.
Looking over her aunt’s shoulder, Della saw Bao Yu standing so close and listening. Almost as if she needed the answer as much as Della.
“I don’t know,” Miao said.
But Della heard her heart reveal the words as a lie.
“I think you do,” Della said. “Tell me. Please.”
“No. It doesn’t need to be repeated. There are some things that are just best forgotten.” She looked at Della as if pleading for her to accept it.
Della recalled the pregnancy tests her parents had insisted she take. Had her father been thinking of his sister then? “That sounds like my dad, and I think he’s wrong. Because you haven’t really forgotten, and neither has he.”
“Oh, my!” Her aunt pressed her fingers to her trembling lips. “Your father will be so angry at me for telling you any of this.”
Della wanted to insist she hadn’t told her nearly enough, but her gut said it would only upset her aunt and wouldn’t lead to any information. “My father doesn’t need to know,” she said. “I won’t even tell him I came here. It will be our secret.”
Her aunt looked suspicious of Della’s proposal, but she nodded.
“Tell me what happened?”
“No, I can’t. I have told you too much already.” She held up her hands. “No more talk about the past. No!”
Della felt the heat spewing out of the vent above. She glanced over Miao’s shoulder and the ghost’s image had evaporated, as did her chill.
“Let me get that tea,” her aunt said, swatting at the tears still on her face. “We can still visit.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t have the time, I … I should probably go.”
Her aunt looked at the photograph in her hands. “Can I keep this?”
Della almost said no, but she got the distinct feeling that Chan would have wanted her to have it.
“Sure.” Della started walking to the door, and her aunt moved with her. Certain her aunt would try to hug her again, Della quickly reached for the knob and almost got out when a hand caught her arm.
“I miss you, Della.”
A lump appeared in her throat. “I miss you, too.”
“Then fix whatever is wrong with your life and hurry back home to your parents. You belong with them, not at that school. You are a good girl. I know this in my heart. So fix it.”
It can’t be fixed. Della stiffened her backbone and told one more lie. “I’m working on it.”
* * *