Epilogue: A fairytale longer than anyone will read
Her joints were creaking, and she felt every day of her 85 years of life pressing down on her. Huddling close to the fireplace, she tried to find some comfort from the warmth it gave off. He'd been there all her life, and now he was gone. Forever. She couldn't believe it, and she felt like laying down to die herself. Her rock in life, the glue who'd kept all the little pieces together that made up Abby Mills Dunn was no more. Tears blurred her vision, and she tried to dry them off with a shaking hand.
Xxx
They'd been walking on the beach, below the cliff where their house on the island stood. It had been a crisp, clear September morning, full of the promise of warmth later in the day. Holding hands, they had steadied each other a little on the rough, uneven ground. She remembered thinking that they were lucky to have one another at such a great age, being relatively healthy and strong. Earlier in the morning, after their usual cup of coffee by the kitchen table - time spent in quiet relaxation, reading the news with the occasional upwards glance and smile as one of them read out loud an interesting piece – he had gotten his test results for his blood pressure, and it was just fine.
And only half an hour later, on the beach, he had crumpled in a heap, clutching his chest. Before he died, he had whispered: «Abby, I love you!» As she responded, the brief look of joy he always showed when she expressed her love had for a moment supplanted the grimace of pain. And then, no more. Her daughter had found her on the beach hours later. She hadn't been able to leave his body alone, and so she had waited by his side, slowly feeling him grow colder. All the while she had talked to him, telling him that she'd be lost without him, no matter their two children and their grandchildren.
Xxx
But right now, she had to be strong for her granddaughter. Sarah was 25, and even though she was a grown woman, Abby didn't want to show her how lost she was, even two weeks after his funeral. His funeral – it was unbearable to think of it! Drying off her tears once more, Abby was a little angry with herself. She believed that a grandmother should be strong, not showing her grandchild how grief-stricken she really was.
Sarah was here to help her go through his papers. Sweet Sarah, reminding her so much about him in so many ways. She had been his favorite grandchild, being their daughter's only child. Not that he didn't love the three boys their son had, but they were almost fifteen years older than Sarah. He had had so much more time to spend with Sarah after he retired, and they had a special bond. She remembered when Sarah was little, and...
«Oh my God! This can't be true! Granny, did you know?» Sarah's shocked gasp broke through her reverie. Seeing her granddaughter pale and frightened, she squinted at the papers Sarah held in a shaking hand. Her heart fell.
«Oh. That.»
«You knew? Granny – you knew? What – that makes us... all of us... we're inbred?!» Sarah's whisper was horrified, and it made Abby close her eyes, wishing she had thrown the damn boxes away without ever going through them.
«Gran! Answer me!»
Opening her eyes again, she sighed. «Sarah, this is a long story. And no, I didn't know for a long time. I've never seen proof before, I only suspected it. I can't really tell you when he found out, because I don't know.» It was so like Henry, keeping everything in order – even the things that had potential to destroy their life. But this had been hidden in the attic, so he must have aimed to keep it from her, protecting her from anything painful as he always did. Oh, Henry – I really didn't need to see this now!, she thought.
«But Granny! You knew – both of you? And it's illegal! I mean, who does this kind of things?»
«I can't tell you Sarah, like I said. I only suspected, he never told me. And when I came to suspect it, I made the choice that I didn't want to know. You have to realize, my life had already been destroyed two times before. To know something like that, and to have to lose him would shatter everything – I couldn't live with that. So I decided not to know.»
«How could you – how could he – live with that?»
«Love, Sarah. We had been married 12 years and had three kids by the time I... had this suspicion. And he – like I said, I don't know. But if I must make a guess, he knew. And he...probably loved me long before he found out. This isn't something I'm comfortable with, Sarah, you must know that. There's a reason why I chose to not know.»
«But how did you find out? If you never saw any proof and he never told you?»
Sighing, Abby thought back, trying to tell Sarah what had happened.
Xxx
«As you know, your Mom and your uncle Charlie had a brother who died at an early age. Little JD, he was only four when he died. He was healthy until the last two weeks of his life. Falling ill quite suddenly, no one could find out what was wrong with him for more than a week. We only knew that it was very serious – fatal even. There were tests after tests, and one day they found out he had a rare, genetic disease. Untreatable.»
«I knew about the disease – but this was because you were half-siblings? Why didn't the doctor expose you?»
«The doctor never knew, he had no reason to suspect that. And there was no reason to test us – after all, we weren't planning any more children. But what happened was this.»
Xxx
«This illness is not common at all, it usually manifests when both parents are closely related and carries the same alleles. The two of you are not cousins or related in any other way, are you?», said the doctor in a kind, gentle voice, his eyes expressing sympathy for having to explain to them why their little son was about to die.
«No», she said, shaking her head to the doctor, «we're not related at all, not that we know of.»
And then she saw Henry's face. He was thunderstruck, looking both shocked, sorrowful and...guilty. Avoiding her eyes, he stared down at the table at his folded, shaking hands. Guilty? Why would he feel guilty? And why so shocked by the doctor's question? Feeling an ice-cold claw grip her stomach – as if she wasn't tense enough already – she thought: No. It couldn't be. She had no relatives at all – except her mother's unknown son. Wakefield's child. She'd never gone looking for him, and she had always thought that whoever it was, he wouldn't be brazen enough to contact her. After all, his father had killed her mother. But no, it couldn't be Henry! No way. Still staring at him, he finally met her eyes. Seeing the pure terror and guilt in his eyes, she knew.
She never remembered the rest of the appointment, but when they found themselves in the car outside the hospital, it was plain that Henry couldn't drive. He was clutching the wheel, staring straight ahead, with such a look of pain on his face.
«Move over,» she said kindly, «I'll drive.»
He got out the car, walking around it in a stiff, robot-like way, before getting into the passenger seat. Strangely, she found that she was able to concentrate on the driving, but she gave him a worried glance now and then. He still seemed completely lost to the world, obviously struggling with inner pain.
Inside the flat, she made coffee. She really wanted a whisky, but the children would come home from school, and there was no way she'd be drunk when they came home. That would never happen – except if she opened that bottle of scotch now. Coffee was the right thing, and it gave her something to do.
Henry her half-brother. No, it couldn't be true, and how would he know? Remembering with a pained shiver, she could easily picture Wakefield behind the bars at the Harper's Island jail. Because I found him! That's what he had said. Because he found him... That meant – if it was Henry – that he had known? Known that he was Wakefield's son and her brother as Wakefield and Sully murdered all of their friends and family? No, that couldn't be. Her Henry wouldn't be able to live with that. On the other hand – the way he explained his love for thrillers, crime shows, forensics, biographies of famous killers, all those odd little quirks and interests as a result of the shock of the first Wakefield rampage – wouldn't that also cover him discovering he was the son of a serial killer? What if... What if he had been involved in the murders? What if she'd been in love with and married to her brother, maybe even a serial killer, having three kids with him – no – soon it would be only two. What if this was true – then they obviously couldn't go on together. As her breath caught in her throat by the thought of little JD, she shook herself. No. She had made up her mind.
Turning around, she saw him standing on the doorstep to the kitchen. His arms was hanging down by his side, and somehow to her, it made him look so sad, lost and defenseless. And the pain in his eyes – she couldn't stand to see it. She walked up to him – the kitchen felt a mile long – and he followed her with his eyes. Leaning in to his chest, she wrapped her arms around him. He responded, almost convulsively, almost grabbing her.
They stood like that for a long time, clinging to each other. At last she looked up at him, seeing him stare at her with such desperation, love and longing in his eyes. That look, she knew that. It had always been for her, then? Before they were together? Taking a deep breath, she said: «Henry. I don't want to know.»
He didn't say anything, just kept looking at her.
«I don't want to know anything. I can't live without you. I can't. You're the only one I have, your're the love of my life. My life has been broken two times too many, and I won't survive losing you. Don't tell me whatever it is you've done.»
His voice was cracked and broken when he answered: «Whatever I did, I did for you. For us.»
«Ssssh,» she said. «I don't want to know. I love you, Henry, and I'll never leave you. Just don't tell me anything I can't live with.»
Xxx
Looking at her grandmother, still feeling shocked and horrified, Sarah could see her pain visible like a thick coat of paint on her face. Poor, sweet Granny. She must have loved him to distraction, being able to close her eyes on such a discovery. Sarah also found that she wasn't able to hurt her even more by expressing her disgust for the whole thing. So she only squeezed her wrinkled hand, and walked up to the fireplace. Taking a last look at the old adoption form, she threw it into the fire, watching it crackle and burn merrily. Turning around, she said to her grandmother: «I won't tell. Never. I'll keep the secret.» Her grandmother's face lit up, and she said: «Sarah, how can I thank you! To explain all this to the rest, it would have been horrible. Thank you for keeping it a secret. If you don' mind, I'd rather go back to not knowing, not thinking about it myself. It's...painful, and frankly very disturbing for me.»
Xxx
Later, Sarah was walking in the garden alone. The beautiful garden at Harper's Island, which her grandpa had tended so carefully. Oh, grandpa, how many secrets did you really have? This was by far the most shocking to her, and it also confirmed a strong suspicion of her's. Her grandpa had been the killer at Harper's Island, she just knew it. And all for her grandmother. He must have wanted to make sure there was no one alive that knew the truth. That was so like him, Sarah smiled to herself.
She'd always spent a lot of time with her grandparents, especially in the holidays. One of her earliest memories was going fishing with him. When he took the head of the first fish, she'd been so excited, squealing to get to kill the next fish. And of course he'd let her, laughing quietly at her excitement.
Later, he'd taught her how to aim properly, because he told her it would be better to kill the birds with one shot of her sling instead of torturing them. He told her she always had to finish the job if she hurt an animal, because it was wrong to leave someone in pain. And that she must never tell her grandmother that she had hurt an animal.
And there was the one time when she had woken up in the night, to find him downstairs washing blood of his hands. He'd calmly told her to go back to sleep, but she had been so fascinated with the all the blood, asking: «Why do you go hunting in the night, grandpa?»
«Because I like it, and because then your grandma won't notice. She doesn't like blood at all, you know. Don't tell her, or she'll be upset.»
«I won't. Only if you promise I can go with you next time!» At that he'd smiled at her, saying: «I will, when you're older.»
When she was nine, he'd interrupted her trying to hang her playmate John. At that, he had been shocked, quickly cutting the rope before any harm was done. He'd told her to wait for him, while he followed John back home, telling him that this was a little dangerous, but nothing to worry about. Sulking, she told him when he came back that they'd only been playing Wakefield. At that he had smiled, but he had tried his best to look serious. She could still remember his words clearly:
«Sarah, I understand it's fun playing Wakefield. But this was really dangerous, you could have killed John. For real. And killing people is serious business. Promise me that you'll never play games like that again – and you must never tell your grandma. She'll be shellshocked. And you really don't want her to be angry with you.»
As a teenager, she'd pestered him into learning her how to shoot, and to take her hunting. He would – for all the world – claim that he didn't like to hunt. She knew better, because she saw his grin and the look in his eyes when he pulled the trigger – not to mention if he had to use the knife to finish the kill. She could recognize that feeling in herself – a thrill of the chase, of winning, of being the survivor, the strongest.
When she was sixteen, she got drunk at a party for the first time. Coming home to her grandparent's house – not daring to go home to her parents – she knocked over a glass in the kitchen. Her grandfather had come downstairs to check, and taking in her state, he had proceeded to make her tea, eggs and bacon, telling her that what she needed now was solid food.
Watching him cooking, she had rambled on about the party and that her friend Jen had taken off with the boy they both were in love with.
«What did you do about that?» he said, looking questioningly at her.
«Honestly, I was going to kill them. But I couldn't find them, and then I got sick.»
«Killing them for real, or is it just an expression?» he asked casually.
«For real. I'm too tired now, but I'm really angry.» she said, meaning every word of it.
«I can understand your feelings, believe me, but that would be plain stupid. Killer's first rule: Never get caught. Killer's second rule: To fulfill rule one, never tell anyone. You just broke rule number two. That'll make you break rule one.»
«Oh», she's said, staring a little stupidly at him. He wasn't laughing, he was dead serious. Catching her look, he had ruffled her hair, saying: «I don't want to see you behind bars, Sarah. With a temper like yours, it's best to rein it in. I know it's difficult, but it's possible.»
When she was 21, he'd discovered a bloody knife hidden under her bed in the summer house at Harper's.
«What's this, Sarah!?» She had blanched, never having thought that her grandparents actually vacuumed under the beds too.
«A...knife?»
«With a lot of blood on! Haven't I told you how important it is to clean knives after use?»
«Yes, you have. I'm sorry grandpa, I was in such a hurry.» She hung her head in shame, all the while thinking that no one in the world except her grandpa would care more about her lack of cleanliness than finding a hidden, bloody knife in the first place.
«No excuse! You have to make the time for things like that. It's important.»
Lifting her head, she saw he looked searchingly at her. She nodded a little as an answer to the unspoken question, but she would keep rule number two this time. At that he smiled at her and said: «It runs in the family. You're so like me in some ways, Sarah. Just be careful.»
Damn, she should have known – it runs in the family! He wasn't the first one. But he was the best – he was never caught. And he never told anyone, not even her grandmother. Grinning a little to herself, Sarah felt that she had some heritage to be proud of. And she hoped fervently that she'd be as happy as he was with her grandmother. It was just the small matter of getting rid of her beloved's chosen girlfriend first.
The end
A/N: This story ended up so much longer than I originally planned. I thought maybe three or four chapters, and ended up with a long story - almost a sequel with Sarah...
Thanks to everyone who've read it, and I want to dedicate this story to harper's island (that is, the fanfic writer) and Yellowbulma. Thanks for reviewing every single chapter! :D
This story is essentially a songfic. Because I'm way too lazy, I haven't stated it in each chapter, so I'll do it now. Every chapter title is from songs by the band Sunrise avenue, except the title Hero of Harper's (and that's just because it was such a funny title).
So: Titles from the song Diamonds are chaps 1,2 and 6.
Titles from the song It ain't the way are 3, 8 and 11.
Chapter 5 is from the song Choose to be me.
Chapter 9 is from the song Romeo.
Chapter 7 is from the song Forever Yours, and chapter 10 is from the song Fairytale gone bad.
Having finished this story, I can finally sit down to watch the final episode on the dvd. I'm going to bawl my eyes out. Then I'll think of fanfics and happy endings. :)
