The Keeper of Lost Things Read online

  My red umbrella bobbed over my head, doing nothing to keep the rain from me. I needed to wrap myself in plastic rather than hold a piece of metal above my head.

  The bus was late but it eventually took me to the Lakeside Mega Mall. Today was Recycle Club and I needed it more than ever. The only way to lift my mood was to rescue some lost things and take them to their new home.

  Finding my father was not my job. He hadn’t tried to find me in all of my sixteen years. The lost things made my world right again, reminded me that even things lost could be found once more. I needed to remember that.

  Frankie was just a mistake.

  I had to let him go.

  The mall was packed when I walked through it. All the stores were having sales and the rain pushed everyone inside. I had to weave my way through the crowds which was difficult when my eyes had to be on the floor and searching.

  The idea of personal space went completely out the window during sales times. Elbows found their way to connect with my ribs on several occasions.

  I elbowed them back.

  They got the point.

  It was slow work getting through the mall. I drifted past shops without going in any of them–it was too difficult knowing what was lost and what were products that had merely fallen to the floor. I’d learnt that the hard way and Uncle Marvin would not pick me up from the police station again.

  I know because he told me.

  Quote.

  ‘You only get one shot, Em. Do it again and I’ll let you stay in jail for the rest of your life.’

  Unquote.

  I gravitated toward the food court where the smell of deep fryers and dripping fat reached my nose. The schools had let out and students were milling around for food.

  My search had failed to find anything in need of rescuing but the food court was always a good place to lose things. Shopping bags were forgotten under tables, keys hid under fast food wrappers, and distracted kids dropped toys wherever they went.

  It only took one turn around the area before I spotted something.

  A set of keys.

  Lying on a table.

  Completely alone.

  I hurried toward them, knowing it wouldn’t be long before they found a place to belong once more. I reached for them with eager fingers.

  Only to have them snatched out from under me.

  My gaze travelled from the hand to the arm to the shoulder and then to the head.

  Frankie.

  He was holding the keys in his fist, smiling with a proud, satisfied grin. “Beat you to it.”

  “Give them to me,” I replied. I had to remind myself not to look at his beautiful blue eyes. They were as deadly as Medusas.

  “I’ll give them to you if you answer a question.”

  “No.” Frankie turned to leave, heightening my panic level up five notches. “Fine. One question and then I need the keys.”

  “Why do you take things?” Frankie asked. His tone was curious rather than vindictive. I doubted he even knew the meaning of the word.

  I couldn’t tell him why I rescued lost things. I never told anyone why I did it. As far as I knew nobody else even knew what I was doing. I was a ghost, a shadow, someone to ignore and forget they existed.

  There was no way I could let myself be so exposed.

  I was entirely right this morning, I needed to make sure Frankie kept his distance from me. Being nice to him or telling him any more about my life was dangerous.

  So I had to do what I did best.

  I lied.

  “These are my keys, I need them to get into my house. I thought I lost them so I’ve been looking everywhere for them,” I said, as perfectly as if it were the truth.

  I told you I was a good liar.

  Lying was my specialty.

  Frankie looked from the keys in his hand to my face. I don’t think he believed me but he was too polite to say that to my face. He merely sighed and held them out for me. I grabbed them before he could change his mind.

  “Do you want to hang out? There’s a bunch of us from school here,” he said, gesturing to the table a dozen feet away. I recognized the faces but I doubted they recognized me.

  “No, I’m busy,” I replied and instantly regretted my tone. I hadn’t meant to be so sharp with him. I wanted Frankie to stay away from me but I didn’t want him believing me to be the biggest monster on earth.

  Frankie shoved his hands into his pockets and stared at the ground for a moment. “Okay, then. If you change your mind we’ll be here for a while. Feel free to join us. I’d like you to be there.”

  He left me and returned to his friends. I lingered on the fringe of the food court behind a potted plant. It didn’t matter that I looked ridiculous as long as Frankie didn’t see me.

  The keys burned hot in my hand.

  Frankie looked happy with the other kids. He seemed to always be smiling, happy just to be alive and living. I thought back to his home which was filled with his family, his mother was probably preparing dinner right at that moment.

  I didn’t belong in his world.

  It would be a mistake to think otherwise.

  Searching didn’t sound so appealing after that. I left the mall and took the bus home, determined not to think about the boy again. He was better off without me.

  Uncle Marvin was sitting at the table in the kitchen when I arrived home. “Your dinner is in the oven,” he grumbled as a greeting.

  It’s nice to see you, too, Uncle Marvin. How was your day?

  Splendid, my dear. And how was yours?

  Oh, wonderful, Uncle. I learned so much and my friends were a hoot.

  So fantastic to hear. Please join me in this delicious food made with love.

  That was never going to happen.

  I grabbed my dinner of noodles in some type of cream sauce and sat at the table. It smelled of stale cheese. Tasted kind of like it too. “Sorry I’m late.”

  “Don’t make a habit out of it.”

  “I won’t.”

  He shoveled some noodles into his mouth and then spoke, spitting tiny pieces out as he did. “Stupid boss changed our routine today. He is such an idiot. Why change something that’s worked for twenty years? I told him he didn’t know what he was doing and he threatened to fire me. Again. He never will.”

  I swallowed, trying to reassure myself that bad table manners were not a genetic curse. “What made him change it?”

  “God only knows. He probably woke up and thought he was a genius. Thinks he’s a big man and all. Ha! Idiot. Luckily he wasn’t there when the police showed up.”

  That got my attention.

  “The police were at your workplace today?” I asked.

  Uncle Marvin snorted and some more noodles shot out of his mouth. “Yeah. I kept telling them they were wasting their time when they should be out catching murderers. Stupid idiots.”

  “What did they ask you?” It was only three days since the cops showed up at our door. To hear they were still trying to get answers out of Uncle Marvin was curious.

  “They wanted to know where your good-for-nothing father was.”

  “They think you would know?”

  “Nope.”

  “So they don’t think you know?” I asked. My fork stabbed at some noodles as I tried to be nonchalant. If Uncle Marvin knew I wanted all the details, he would make a point of not telling me.

  “They think I’m the reason he’s missing. The stupid idiots think I did something to him.”

  That wasn’t what I was expecting.

  To think my uncle had anything to do with my father’s disappearance was almost laughable. The man was so fat he could barely reach over his belly. To do something to another human being–especially a full grown man–would be almost impossible.

  Or would it?

  Uncle Marvin didn’t like my father, he’d made that perfectly clear throughout my years of living with him. The exact reason, I didn’t know.

  I shook my head, no it was impossible. Ma
king my father disappear would have taken effort and my uncle rarely put effort into anything.

  Something clanged behind me, making me jump about a foot high. My head whipped around just in time to see Matilda jumping down from the counter.

  “Get that bloody cat out of here,” Uncle Marvin bellowed. “That good for nothing tabby is all trouble and no sense. I don’t know why you insist on keeping it.”

  His face was going red as he added a string of curse words to his grumbling. The table would be covered by noodles by the time he finished his tirade.

  I grabbed the cat and placed her in the living room, whispering that it was better for her to disappear for a few hours while Uncle Marvin calmed down.

  He really did have a temper.

  Could he have been that angry at my father?

  As I went to wash the dishes, I tried to push all those thoughts aside. It wouldn’t make sense for my uncle to attack my father after so many years. If the police thought he had something to do with his vanishing act, they were being misled.

  Where were the police when he went missing from my life ten years ago?

  That was the real question.

  Chapter 12

  My father had haunting eyes, that was my conclusion. I sat in the corner of the attic, having opened Pandora’s box of his things. I had only gone up to the attic to place the keys carefully on the shelves.

  But the box had called to me.

  I tried to find something in Marshall Gabrielle’s features that I saw in my own face. His haunting eyes, his cupid’s bow lips, his slightly crooked nose.

  There was nothing familiar about them.

  Perhaps he wasn’t really my father. Would that have made him leave me all those years ago? I didn’t know my mother, perhaps she was playing the field while she was young.

  As much as a part of me wanted to believe I might be the milkman’s daughter, something deep inside me recognized the man in the picture as my father.

  I wondered where in the world he was. I had so many questions that I always hoped I would get answered one day. Him not being here wasn’t conducive to that goal.

  Maybe it was only for that reason that I wanted to find him. Because I did, want to find him that is. I may not want Frankie to help me anymore but I did want him located safe and well.

  Marshall Gabrielle’s photograph was still haunting me the next evening when I was standing on the couch in his home. An eight-year-old was staring at me on the other side of the coffee table. I didn’t know what to say to my half-sister.

  So we stared.

  Awkwardly.

  “Dinner’s ready,” Samantha announced. I had never been more relieved in my life.

  We shuffled around the oblong dinner table nestled at the end of the kitchen. My stepmother had gone all out, setting a place for each of us with a cloth placemat and more silverware than I knew what to do with.

  She placed a plate in front of us with a flourish, presenting it like it was a prize on a game show. It was some kind of a quiche, I couldn’t be sure until I tore into it.

  Fancy.

  Much fancier than anything Uncle Marvin or myself cooked.

  “Dig in, don’t let it get cold,” Samantha said. She was smiling so widely I thought her face was going to stay that way forever, her jaw would be locked in place.

  I smiled back at her before taking a bite of the food. There were vegetables and bacon in the quiche, it was actually really good. As the silence lingered loudly in the air, I had an overwhelming need to say something. “Thank you for inviting me over tonight.”

  “It’s our pleasure,” she replied, still smiling. “It’s long overdue, really. Marshall always said he wanted to bring his family together again.”

  I almost choked on my mouthful. Somehow, I didn’t think my father would have said anything like that. He would have found me otherwise. If he missed me so much he had ten years to find me.

  Instead of responding to her ridiculous statement, I changed the subject. “Have you heard anything more about his whereabouts?”

  Samantha shook her head sadly. “I speak to the police every day but they never have anything new to tell me. I’m not going to let them forget about him.” There were dark circles under her eyes and she looked tired. I would say his disappearance weighed more heavily on her than she admitted.

  The ghost of my father in his absence lingered all through the house. It was like he’d just stepped out for a while or was away for a few days. To think he might never return was horrible. Even if I didn’t get him to be my father, April shouldn’t have to go through the same thing I did.

  Nobody should.

  Samantha plastered on her smile again. “So how do you like school, Em? Do you enjoy going?”

  “Not really,” I replied. I could have lied, I probably should have, but she seemed to be trying to make me feel comfortable and I didn’t want to deceive her right then. “The classes are okay, I guess. But I’m looking forward to graduating and getting out of there one day.”

  “I wasn’t much for school either, to be honest. I wasn’t one of the popular girls so I didn’t have it as easy as some. Still, I stuck in there and saw it out.”

  My impression of Samantha completely changed in an instant. I assumed she was always the most popular girl in any room. To think she might be more like me changed that image in my head.

  “April likes school, though. Don’t you, darling.” She grinned at her daughter who nodded solemnly.

  “What’s your favorite subject?” I asked, trying to look interested. We shared the same father, I should know something about the girl.

  “I like art,” April said, in her little girl voice. She was too young to feel the loss of a parent.

  I was too.

  Everything kept reminding me of the day when Marshall Gabrielle walked out on me and never came back. I didn’t want to keep reliving that memory, I wanted it to be pushed into the dark recesses of my mind so I could lock it up and throw away the key.

  It was so much easier said than done.

  As long as I kept my lips curled upwards, I could fool them into thinking everything was great. That I didn’t feel so betrayed and angry at my father, the man they all loved, that I didn’t want to scream at him for losing me.

  Samantha went all out for dinner, serving up ice cream and chocolate sponge pudding for dessert. All the painful moments of the evening were totally worth it just for the dessert. I wanted to ask for seconds, thirds, and the recipe.

  I only gave Uncle Marvin a passing thought as I remembered he would be eating a frozen dinner I left out for him before I departed. He would be having beer for dessert before falling asleep in front of the television. I didn’t tell him where I was going, only that I had a study group to attend. He only asked one question: ‘will there be boys there?’ to which I, of course, said ‘no’.

  After another round of polite banter, I offered to help Samantha with the dishes but she waved me away. “You are our guest, don’t even think about the dishes.”

  I found myself wanting to hug her.

  That wasn’t like me.

  April tugged on my hand before I could make impulsive actions of affection. “Come see my room, Emmy.”

  Emmy?

  We had nicknames now?

  I looked to Samantha for a rescue but she merely smiled encouragingly. I turned to the kid and tried to summon up enough enthusiasm. “Sure.”

  She didn’t let go of my hand until we had walked up all the stairs and entered her room two doors down. April spun around with her hands in the air, giggling to herself. “This is my room. Isn’t it pretty?”

  The room was pink.

  Very pink.

  On one side was her bed with a pink canopy that someone had sewn little butterflies of all colors into, creating some kind of fairyland. On the other side was a dollhouse that was taller than April. In the middle were toys littering every available space in front of a chest of drawers and toy box. Fairy lights were strung a
round the room.

  It was everything a little girl could want or need.

  It was the room I would have killed for when I was eight years old.

  April bounced on the bed cuddling a doll with sleepy eyes. “Do you like my room? You can sit on the bed if you want.”

  Sitting meant staying and I didn’t want to get attached. Still, I guessed just once wouldn’t hurt. I sat on the edge, ready to make a hasty exit if I needed to. “It’s nice.”

  “You really think so?” She said it like her entire future hinged on that one question. Like she might just keel over and die if I didn’t like her room.

  I couldn’t help but get caught up in her world. “I really think so. This whole place is really great.”

  Her face relaxed with relief, her big eyes looking at me without blinking. “Daddy used to talk about you. He said your favorite color is pink.”

  I was almost ashamed to admit that my favorite color used to be pink. I loved every shade from cotton candy pink to deep hot pink.

  Everything was pink, pink, pink.

  Then.

  Now was another story.

  April was still waiting for an answer. It was time to start lying again. “Pink is great. Did he say anything else about me?”

  She bit her lip and shook her head. If there were other secrets April knew, she was going to keep them to herself. I would have to worm them out of her slowly. If I ever saw her again after tonight.

  It was starting to get quiet and awkward again. I pointed at the doll in her arms. “Does she have a name?”

  “Molly.”

  “Is she your favorite?”

  The kid nodded with enthusiasm. “Uh-huh. She wants to be a ballerina when she grows up.”

  “Do you want to be a ballerina too?” There were pink tufts of tutu skirts sticking out of the closet. I could already guess her answer without needing a private investigator.

  “Yep. I love ballet.”

  “It’s a good thing Molly does too.”

  It took her a moment to work that out but when she did, the kid grinned like a Cheshire cat. “Do you like ballet?”