The Right Kind of Wrong (14 page)

“February 24th 1944

We've been in a brutal fight for our lives as we assisted the 34th Division along the Rapido River. General says we are withdrawing to rest. After all the blood I have on my hands, I sure hope we are nearing the end. I miss my home and my wife. I miss sweet corn and fresh fruit. My father has sent word that Charlie left Iowa, and no one knows where he went. My father is still angry with him. I hate being so far away while my twin is God knows where. Charlie has to come back. He just has to."

Vince reads the last line again. "I told you he was a twin. I knew it."

"Okay, fine. You were right," I say bitterly.

Vince softens. "Sorry."

I snatch the journal from his hands. "Whatever, it doesn't matter." I find where we left off but the last entry has only one line of text and I shiver when I read it aloud.
 

"April 17th 1944

I want to come home."
 

That one line speaks to me more than anything else he's written. I can't imagine what it must have felt like to be away from your family for so long, never knowing if you'd ever make it home alive to see them again.
 

After the April 17th entry, the pages are blank. "I wonder why he stopped writing?"
 

Vince shrugs. "Maybe he was shipped home."

"Maybe. Look at his February entry. He says his brother left Iowa. Where did he go?"

"I don't know." He thumbs through the pages of the journal.

Is he thinking the same thing I am? That my grandmother knows something about this? But why? Why would Grandpa pretend all my life that he doesn't have a twin brother?
 

I flip on my back and close my eyes. This day has been eventful and I'm exhausted. I tell myself to open my eyes and go to my bedroom. Call it a night. But between the comfort of the bed and my skin warm against Vince's, I keep them closed.

 
His hand lies next to mine and my heartbeat throbs all the way down to the space between my fingers. I just mean to move them a little bit but my hand slides into his.
 

It feels perfect. Right. Beautiful. Any adjective I can think of to describe how his hand fits with mine. I'm blissfully content right now.
 

But it scares me. I open my eyes as Vince's face is two inches from mine. His lips, pink and full, are ready to plant one on me.
 

In a moment of conflict, my body is saying,
do it. Do it now.
Instead, I surprise us both when I yelp, "What the hell are you doing?"
 

Vince seems as stunned as I am. His cheeks take on the color of a tomato. "I... um... I'm sorry." He scampers off the bed.

"You—"
 

Vince cuts me off. "Forget this happened. It was stupid. I don't know what I was thinking." He leaves the room without another word.

C
HAPTER
S
EVENTEEN

My phone vibrates for the fourth time and I'm getting pissed. I check the incoming message.

It's Kyle. Again.

Why are you ignoring me?
 

I roll my eyes. Really? Is he that clueless? I delete the message and throw off the covers. I'm wide awake, so I might as well get up and face the day. I search through my suitcase for a nicer pair of sweatpants and a more flattering t-shirt.

But why?
 

Oh, yeah. Vince tried to kiss me.
 

I nix the sweatshirt and head downstairs, the nutty aroma of freshly brewed coffee hits me. I expect to see my grandmother at the table in her usual spot, with today's paper and her favorite coffee mug, but she isn't there.

 
The house is eerily quiet. I pour myself some coffee and then I see the note. My grandmother's chicken-scratch handwriting covers the slip of paper on the table.

Kara and Vince,

Went to town with Louise for groceries. Be home later. Don't burn the house down.

Love, Grandma.

I smile and head out to the swing on the front porch. There's a chill in the air that exists only in those few moments before the sun breaks over the horizon. If I could live in this moment, this one, tiny moment of complete stillness forever, I would.
 

I bring my knees to my chest and cradle my mug of coffee as it rests atop my kneecaps. I let the steam roll up my face and I inhale. I want this moment to bring me clarity. How did I go from hating Vince to suddenly wanting his lips to touch mine? I'd like for this moment to clarify why my grandfather had a twin no one talked about. I wait for the clarification but nothing comes. I settle for the rustle of the leaves on the tree.
 

The screen door squeaks open and Vince sits down on the swing, a steaming mug in his hands. He's dressed for the day in a pair of fitted jeans and a faded Nirvana shirt. Why does he look so delicious all of the sudden?
 

"Hey, I'm sorry about last night."

"I tried telling you it was fine, but you weren't really listening."

He raises his eyebrows. "So you're not mad—"
 

"No."

He sighs deeply. "Okay."

"Okay." And then it's over. The moment is gone as quickly as it came.
 

"So what's on the agenda for today?"
 

"I was thinking we'd hit up the historical society."

"Cool."

I put a foot on the ground and push us so the swing picks up speed. I let the slight breeze do the rest.
 

"You really like this swing don't you?"

I gesture to the wide open around us. "Don't you see why?"

"It looks like a still from a nature video. Breathtaking." He's looking at me when he says it.
 

There's a beat of silence between us. I sip the last of my coffee and stand up. "All right, let's get going then. Who knows how long we'll be at this place."

"Okay," he says.

"And for the record, if I could redo last night, I wouldn't have stopped you." I walk toward the car before he has a chance to see the embarrassment written all over my face.

We pull up to the Historical Society, a renovated Victorian house I barely recognize. It used to belong to the McHenrys, one of the first families to settle in Everson. Last time I saw the house, the blue paint was peeling, the porch sagged and the place looked like a dump. Someone has clearly taken the time to restore it to its original glory.
 

"Nice house," Vince says.

"It never looked like this when I lived here. It was worse than my grandparents' house. Someone did a nice job restoring it."

Vince wrestles his camera bag from the floor. "Ready to go in?"

I nod. We make it to the porch before an older, lanky man meets us. His black and grey hair is slicked back with so much product it looks wet. He smiles and his snaggle-tooth catches my attention. I try not to stare.

"You must be Kara Pierce." He extends a hand.

"That's me. And you must be Dr. Adams?"
 

He smiles wider, his snaggle-tooth becomes even more prominent. "That's correct." He looks at Vince. "And you are?"

Vince shakes Dr. Adams's hand. "Vince."
 

Dr. Adams nods. "Pleasure to meet you both. Janice told me you might come. What can I help you with today?"
 

"We're looking for information on my grandfather, Wesley Pierce. Anything about his time in the war or if you know any family history?" I say the last part carefully.
 

"Ah, Wesley Pierce. Quite a man, your grandfather was." He gestures for us to follow him. The house is as exquisite inside as outside. The mahogany floors shine and a grand staircase intersects in the middle of the entry, which has been transformed to the museum lobby.
 

Dr. Adams brings us into the first room to the right of the stairs. It's filled with bookcases built into the walls. I walk to the nearest and finger the spines of books that look older than the house.
 

"This is incredible. Did the McHenrys always have this?"

Dr. Adams tisks. "Oh heavens no. I mean, the bookshelves, yes. The books, no. When Mrs. McHenry passed, she left the house and her entire inheritance to the Everson County Historical Society."
 

He walks to the bookshelf in the furthest right corner and gets a maroon ledger. He sets it on the table. The book is rows and rows of inked names. One after another. Dr. Adams flips through each page until he turns the book toward Vince and me. He points to a name. "Ah, here it is. Pierce. Wesley. These numbers coincide with where information is stored about him."
 

I look closely at my grandfather's name and the several numbers attached to it. What catches my attention though is the name right below his.

"Charlie Pierce? That was his brother, right?" I say with caution.
 

Dr. Adams looks surprised. "Yes, his twin. I take it your family doesn't talk about him much?"

I snort. "You'd be right. All those numbers mean there's information about him, too, right?"

Dr. Adams nods . "Oh yes, Charlie Pierce has quite the history. I can start pulling the information on them both if you'd like?"

I flash him the biggest smile I can muster. "That would be great, Dr. Adams."

He writes down the corresponding numbers and promises he'll be back.
 

"Dammit. Now we know for sure Grandma is lying."
 

Vince shrugs. "Not much we can do except find out if he's still alive and where he's at."

"What about Grandpa’s war experiences though? We don't have time for this little detour. We have to focus on the project."

"What if this
is
our project? We started with World War II and your grandfather, but wouldn't this make a better story? You're telling me the girl who intends to be the next Katie Couric would turn down a story with this much potential?"
 

I stare at him. God. He's right. But I don't want him to be. I want to pretend that we never found those stupid pictures or that dumb journal. I want to pretend that my family hasn't been lying to me my entire life.

"Let's just see what Dr. Adams finds for us. Let’s see how much of a story there is. It's probably a big misunderstanding. Ever heard of estranged family members? It happens."

Vince smirks. "Yeah, the difference is that most people usually know about the estranged family member. They don't come out of the blue like this."
 

I don't refute his point because Dr. Adams walks into the room with three boxes stacked on top of each other.
 

"Here you are, Ms. Pierce. I pulled everything we had on the Pierce boys. He sets them on the table.
 

Vince looks surprised but a fluttery feeling sits heavy in my stomach as if I'm about to uncover some deep dark Pierce secret. "This is all on Wesley and Charlie? What they'd do, rob a bank or something?"

Dr. Adams doesn't look amused. "Oh no, nothing like that. Wesley was a hero and Charlie, well, he was an interesting individual, to say the least. He racked up quite a few articles when he went missing."

Vince and I exchange a look. Vince's is all I-told-you-so and mine is pure oh-shit.

"Missing?" Dr. Adams wipes the sweat from his forehead. "You didn't know about his disappearance?"
 

"I didn't know he existed until last night."
 

"Oh dear. I'm not sure this is a good idea. I'm not in the business of dispensing family secrets."
 

I put my hand on his arm. "Dr. Adams, is all of this public record?"

"Well, of course, I wouldn't be able to—"

I smile at him. "Then you're fine."

He pulls a handkerchief from his pocket again and wipes his shining forehead. "I think you'll find everything in those boxes. Please let me know if you need help locating anything else. I'll be in my office over there." He points to a small room by the staircase.

I give him another big smile "Dr. Adams?"

"Yes?"

"Please don't call my grandmother.”

Dr. Adams doesn't meet my eyes. "Of course not, Ms. Pierce."
 

"Thank you." He walks out of the room and I turn my attention to the boxes of information, not sure where to start.

 
Vince is looking at me funny.

"What?"
 

He laughs. "Nothing. "

I raise my eyebrows.
 

"You just sounded so authoritative."

"What's wrong with that?"

Vince shakes his head. "Absolutely nothing. I see why you're so good at investigating shit." He brings his camera to his eyes and walks around the room, zooming in on the bookshelves and finally the boxes.

"Vince?"

"Huh?"

"Put your damn camera down and help me sort through this mess. We have a lot of work to do."
 

He shuts the camera off and smiles. "Yes, ma'am."

C
HAPTER
E
IGHTEEN

I take a stack of papers from the box and spread them out on the table.
 

"This is going to take forever and I don't even know what we're looking for."

"Stop being a baby. Isn't this 'finding the lead' shit something you live for?"

I punch his arm. "Usually the 'finding the lead' shit doesn't involve such old resources." I read over an article that talks about men drafted for the war. A quote from Charlie in the middle of the article stands out.
 

"Ain't all men born to go to war."

I pass the paper to Vince. "Well, I guess we know how he felt about the war."
 

Vince reads the quote and sets the paper aside. "Hey, look at this." He holds up a copy of a different newspaper article with a black and white photo of a handsome man with a devilish smirk. The headline states:
Pierce Boy Gone Into Thin Air
.