The Sisters’ Secrets: Rose

About the Author

KATLYN DUNCAN grew up in a small town in New England, but her head was always in the clouds. She wanted to travel and see the world but was happy enough to write her own characters and live through them. Katlyn started writing at a young age and never really stopped. Even if she wasn’t writing a novel or a movie script, she was jotting down ideas in her journal or on Post-it notes. She never thought (even though she dreamed) they would lead to her actually becoming published someday. One of her proudest moments was winning $50 for a writing contest in sixth grade. And Katlyn bought her very own television with it. In that same grade, one of her most influential teachers taught her that reading was an escape and she hopes she can bring that to her readers as well.

Katlyn currently lives in lower New England, a quick train ride to New York City, with her husband and adorable wheaten terrier in a Victorian fixer-upper.

Readers love Katlyn Duncan

‘I will definitely be reading more from this author again.’

‘Engaging and thought provoking.’

‘I was completely glued from page one and didn’t want to put it down.’

Also by Katlyn Duncan

The Life After Trilogy: Soul Taken

The Life After Trilogy: Soul Possessed

The Life After Trilogy: Soul Betrayed

This Summer

This Christmas

Darkest Dawn

As You Lay Sleeping

Six Little Secrets

The Sisters’ Secrets: Rose
KATLYN DUNCAN

HQ

An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2018

Copyright © Katlyn Duncan 2018

Katlyn Duncan asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

E-book Edition © October 2018 ISBN: 9780008314903

Version: 2018-09-03

Table of Contents

Cover

About the Author

Readers Love Katlyn Duncan

Also by Katlyn Duncan

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Acknowledgements

The Next Book From Katlyn Duncan Is Coming in January 2019

Dear Reader

Keep Reading …

About the Publisher

For Mom.

Thanks for being the first reader for all my books. I was waiting for a good one to dedicate to you and I hope this one conveys how much I appreciate and love you.

Prologue

Rosemary knew it wasn’t the morning when her eyes cracked open. The waves crashing against the shore were louder than ever. The darkness in her bedroom might have affected some people, but not her, not at that moment. Moonlight filtered through her curtains, billowing them as if ghosts danced under the sheer white fabric. She narrowed her eyes slightly, sharpening the edges of the furniture in her room.

Damp sheets clung to her body, and the taste of the salt in the air filled her mouth. She pulled her hair back and rolled it around her hand, tugging the thick strands off her neck.

According to the fish clock hanging from the wall, it was 11.22 p.m.

Why was she awake?

Maybe a sound from outside woke her up? Her body tensed. Was someone about to rob them? She heard Reen in the back of her head: ‘Don’t be such a worrywart.’

She stood up, ready to alert Mom and Dad. But Mom didn’t sleep so well. Waking her up for no reason would make for a rough day tomorrow. It was the weekend, and she was sure that Mom would be miserable if she disrupted her sleep in any way.

She flattened one leg of her shorts, her fingers brushing against the fresh scratches on her knees. Reen played harder lately, and Rose was up for the challenge.

Then, she heard it.

This splash was different from the rhythmic movement of the ocean outside of her house – the background noise of her life.

She strained to hear the voices that filled her ears. Two people spoke in hushed tones. Both were female.

Mom?

Padding across the room, she flung open the curtains. The dark mass of water making up her front yard reached out to the infinite sea.

No one was on the beach. Rose strained to hear and place the voices. The binoculars, from Dad for her tenth birthday, sat on the desk. If she could figure out what was going on, there was no need to alert her parents. Besides, there was no way that she was going back to sleep after this.

She lifted the binoculars and peered through them. No one came out to the private beaches of The Burrow unless they were looking for trouble. She at least wanted to tell Dad what was happening.

Then she saw it. Something reflected off the water. The white light flickered several times before blinking out entirely.

She couldn’t make out the words around the whispers, but they intensified. A tugging sensation in her stomach forced her to put her binoculars on the sill and propelled her to climb over and onto the wooden patio.

Whispers, faint and teasing, reached all corners of her mind. The voices were familiar yet, bizarre.

Rose pinched her arm to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. Sharp, biting pain radiated over her skin.

Definitely not dreaming.

As her feet pressed into the soft sand, she tilted her head to the side to listen for the whispers.

They were gone.

She stood straighter and peered into the distance. It might have been a good idea to bring the binoculars, but she had an idea where she’d seen the flickering light. If she went back, she might miss what she was looking for.

The water pulled the sand from under her feet as she walked over the surf. The cool liquid over her skin warmed the chill in her spine. Water did that to her.

That same pulling sensation tugged at her chest, beckoning her forward.

She walked further until the ocean touched her ankles, then her knees, and stopped when it reached her chest. Her foot outlined the familiar dip in the ocean floor.

One more step and she wouldn’t be walking anymore.

With a glance over her shoulder, she pushed forward.

The shock of the water at her shoulders stung like a thousand little needles prickling her skin. The salty water seeped into her mouth. Her arms moved to her sides and her legs kicked out as she treaded water.

There were no other sounds around her, not even the whispers.

Even though she felt at home in the water, the creepiness of the situation snapped her back to reality.

What am I doing out here?

Her heart hammered in her ears as she kicked her feet to find the ledge again. The second her toes brushed against what she thought was the ledge, she cupped her hands, pushing forward.

As soon as she touched the sandy ocean floor, something slick wrapped around her ankle and pulled.

Rose’s entire body went under, and water flooded her mouth and nose. Pumping her arms, she was desperate to find the surface. Her hand broke through, and she kicked as hard as she could.

When the night air touched her cheeks, she gasped. She barely had time to fill her lungs before she went under again. Her lungs burned as she fought against the force that threatened to pull her further into the water.

Whatever held on to her was strong. Brackish water filled her vision. Black spots blinked in her eyes, and she needed, more than anything, to find the strength to swim to the surface. Her life depended on it.

The slick seaweed tightened around her ankle, searing her skin. Since it wasn’t letting her go, she reached down to try and snap it from the root.

Her body stilled, frozen by the icicles in her veins as realization flooded her.

It wasn’t seaweed.

The scaly and cylindrical rounded object burned against her leg and it was about to drag her to the watery depths of the ocean.

Her pulse spiked. Instead of fighting it, she tried to untangle it from around her ankle. Fire raged in her lungs. She kicked with all her might, attempting to get to the surface.

Swimming was something that Rose knew how to do. Growing up on the beach had honed her skills. It was hard to focus under duress, but she tried.

Grasping her last bit of energy before the blackness took over, Rose pushed once more for the surface. But it was futile. She was going to die in the ocean. Her mind went hazy for a moment as she started to give up, allowing her arms and legs to still.

That was until two arms wrapped around her and hoisted her to the surface. The first thing she did was inhale the salty air. Water crashed around her, but something splashed nearby. It was coming back for her.

‘Swim, honey,’ Mom said.

Rose’s legs were weak, and her ankle throbbed. She wanted to check herself out, but instinct won. Even though she didn’t have much strength left, she clawed for the shore.

Once Rose collapsed on the sand, a figure came into view. It was Mom, walking out of the ocean, wearing her now see-through nightgown. It clung to her body as if it were a part of her skin.

Mom knelt next to Rose and pulled her onto her lap.

Rose trembled in her mother’s arms. How did she know I needed help?

Mom’s eyes bulged, and she drew Rose up against her chest, squeezing out most of the air in her lungs. ‘I’m so sorry, Rose.’

The weight of almost drowning pressed against Rose’s body, and she choked out a sob as she fisted the wet fabric of her shirt.

I’m alive.

The lapping water reached Rose’s feet, and she curled her legs closer to her body.

Hot tears flowed down her cheeks, but they weren’t hers.

Chapter 1

The shrill brrring of Rose’s phone cut through the otherwise silent kitchen. Her hand shot out, nearly spilling the coffee from her mug.

Two brown dots marked her khaki pants. ‘Dammit!’ So much for enjoying a quiet breakfast. Shuffling across the room, she grabbed her phone from the counter by the door.

The second she saw the name, her heart sank. Quickly swiping the screen, she brought the phone to her ear. ‘Hello?’

‘Rose Barros?’ the nasally voice enquired.

Rose placed her clammy hand on her forehead. ‘Yes, this is she.’ There’s a problem. If they’re calling me, there must be.

‘This is Jessie. I’m a CNA at the Whinding House.’

‘What’s wrong?’ Rose asked.

‘I wanted to inform you that your mother had a fall this morning.’

A breath caught in Rose’s throat.

‘She’s okay,’ Jessie continued before Rose could ask. ‘But we’re required to inform you.’

‘Was she injured?’ Rose asked.

‘Nothing life-threatening,’ she said. ‘A sprained wrist. One of our staff was helping her out of bed, and she lost her footing.’

Thank God she’s not hurt too badly. The digital clock on the microwave read 8.15 a.m. ‘Should I come over there?’ It would have to be a quick visit before her shift started.

‘There’s no need, I –’

‘I’m on my way,’ Rose said, hanging up.

Flicking her finger across her phone screen, she went to her Favorites and pressed her thumb over Missy’s name. While the dial tone trilled in her ear, Rose grabbed her half-eaten slice of toast and stuffed another bite into her mouth before rinsing off the plate.

Missy’s voice came after the fourth ring. ‘Hello?’

‘Hey, it’s me,’ Rose said through the food in her mouth.

‘Don’t tell me you’re going to be late,’ Missy said.

Rose cringed. ‘Mom had a fall last night.’

‘Shit,’ Missy said. ‘All right, I got you covered.’

‘I’m going to try and make it in time. As long as traffic isn’t bad –’

‘Take your time, Rosie,’ Missy said.

Rose sighed. ‘Thank you.’

‘See you soon,’ Missy said then hung up.

Being best friends with her boss had a few perks. Even though she hated to be late for anything, Pearl’s fall was an unknown wrench in her plan.

Good thing Rose got up early that morning. Instead of rushing to change, she ignored the small coffee stain on her pants – she’d get more than that at work – and grabbed her keys from the basket next to the fridge.

As it did most days, the photograph on the freezer door caught her eye. A couple with two young girls smiled back at her. They stood in front of the house she’d grown up in. Rose reached out and smoothed her finger over Dad’s face and then focused on the little dark-haired girl with the devious glint in her eyes. Her arm wrapped around little Rose’s shoulders, holding her close. She’d kept the picture as a reminder of simpler times when her family was a strong unit and not broken by hard times.

To call Reen or not…that was the question. Reen hadn’t been involved in any decisions when it came to Pearl’s future. There wasn’t time for an argument, not this early in the morning.

Telling her sister about Mom’s fall wasn’t going to help heal their rift. In fact, it was an invitation to a different conversation, one that they’d had ad nauseam.

Instead, Rose pushed the thought out of her mind and headed for the door. Humid air caught in her throat, but there were looming gray clouds in the distance. Not wanting to take any more chances with her clothes before work, she grabbed her jacket, slinging it over her shoulder and went outside.

The ride over to the Whinding House was mostly uneventful. The annual Mermaid Festival kicked off later that week, and preparations were underway.

In the 1800s, there were rumors of mermaids living off the coast of The Burrow. Sailors and fishers weaved stories of the beautiful half-human, half-fish creatures who took lonely men to the deep. Sometimes the townsfolk blamed the creatures for ill weather and sinking ships. The rumors stuck around for a long time until one of the townspeople came up with the idea to honor the mermaids, instead of fearing them.

After the first festival, the story goes that no more men fled from their homes to answer the siren call and the fishers were prosperous for years to come. The town kept the tradition alive, even though it became a fruitful time for the businesses on land instead of those that relied on the water for their livelihoods.

Rose thanked whoever watched over her that there wasn’t traffic yet. She had a slim window of time to get to work before Missy.

The parking lot was mostly empty, other than the vans that transported the non-memory-care residents on day trips or to appointments.

Rose parked closest to The Cottage, the red brick building under lockdown at the back of the property. When she chose a place for Pearl to live the rest of her life, Rose hadn’t taken anything lightly.

The beautifully renovated Victorian house at the front of the complex had been a welcome sight, but the cost of the care was much more than she could afford. While Mom’s insurance helped, extra hours working at The Siren restaurant and renting her childhood home were the only ways she could get Mom the care she needed.

Flinging open the door to the building, Rose charged inside to the front desk.

The receptionist, Tina, glanced up from her computer. She eyed Rose over her black-rimmed glasses. ‘I had a feeling I’d see you today.’

Tina knew everything going on in The Cottage. If Rose hadn’t played at her house as a child, she would have sworn Tina slept under her desk.

‘You know me,’ Rose said.

‘I do,’ she said.

Ignoring the pity in Tina’s eyes was hard. There was no reason for anyone to feel bad for her. She wasn’t the one locked in this place.

Rose went through the motions, signing in to the guest log before walking over to the double doors behind Tina’s desk. She punched in the code on the small keypad to unlock the doors.

Once inside, the scent of bleach and cleaning solutions stung her nose. With her weekly visits over the last few months, that scent replaced the memory of Mom’s floral perfume that she’d worn for as long as Rose knew her. Now every time Rose cleaned the apartment, she automatically thought of Pearl. The mother she’d locked away.

Rose took a breath, steeling herself. Jessie had said Pearl was fine. She wouldn’t lie, right?

Taking care of Mom had been Rose’s job for years, but now that she was in the safety of The Cottage, Rose had no idea how to pull back the control, even with professionals on-site.

Inside Mom’s room, both beds were empty. Pearl hadn’t had a roommate since the late Mrs. Hudson, but it was only a matter of time. Not that Pearl would notice anyway. The flowers she’d bought a few days ago bent over the edge of the vase resting on the dresser. Rose pinched the silky, delicate petals between her fingers.

She realigned the picture frames and small trinkets from their house as little reminders to Pearl. Memories flooded her mind, but she snapped out of it as quickly as she fell in.

As she walked into the hallway, she followed the sound of clinking utensils from the main room. Even though Rose had been up for over two hours, it was time for the residents’ breakfast.

As she always did when she came to visit Mom, Rose took a deep breath and let it out slowly through her nose. Warmth enveloped her the moment she stepped into the room.

Two broad windows made up the back wall, offering a full view of the ocean in the distance. The sight always took her breath away. But she didn’t want others to see the effect it had on her. The walls closed in around her, and the ache in her chest stole her breath.

She turned away, her gaze pausing on each of the residents before settling on Mom’s excessively long gray hair covering the back of her chair. Even though Mom had no idea what her name was, she held on to her habit of keeping her hair as it always had been.

It was a trait they both shared. Mom never forced Reen or Rose to cut their hair, and because of that, it grew longer than most. Rose always enjoyed the feel of it across her shoulders and back. Somehow, it brought her closer to Pearl. While it was a nuisance most of the time, keeping it up in a bun or a long fishtail braid had become her styling choice.

Today, Pearl sat alone. The other residents sat in twos or threes around the room. Some of them chatted with each other while most had a faraway look and muttered to themselves.

Rose sat in the empty chair next to her mother.

As usual, Pearl slowly turned towards her daughter without any flash of recognition in her eyes. Her skin had loosened with age and the rapid decline of her health, but Rose still saw the fresh-faced woman that Dad fell for. Her lips were full and her nose a perfect slope with a rounded end. The three Barros girls favored each other, and Rose was happy for her genetics.

Pressure rose in Rose’s chest, but she didn’t show it.

Instead, she inspected the white gauze wrapped around her mother’s wrist.

Movement from across the room caught her attention. An unfamiliar person nodded at Rose. She guessed it was Jessie, the newer CNA who had called her. She pulled a pen from her blonde ponytail and wrote something down on the clipboard clutched in her hands.

Rose turned to Mom. ‘Good morning, Pearl.’ She didn’t try to force memories on Pearl, and hadn’t for a while now. Calling her ‘Mom’ was only going to cause problems. ‘My name is Rose.’

‘Rose,’ Pearl dragged out, tasting the word. ‘Rosemary. Herb.’

Rose sniffed, pulling herself together. ‘That’s right.’

Pearl licked her lips and brought the spoon full of grits into her mouth. She mashed it around as some of it spilled from the corners of her mouth. Rose lifted the napkin from the tray and blotted the food from her lips.

‘How are you feeling today, Pearl?’

She muttered something, but the words muddled together.

Rose thought, for a second, she’d heard her mom say her name. But even if she had, it wouldn’t be about her. Pearl hadn’t recognized Rose in a year.

While this place was the best for Pearl, it wasn’t helping with her condition. The doctor said she’d never regain her memory, but deep down in a secret part of Rose’s heart, she wanted to disprove that. Her mother, the woman who loved her family with her entire heart and soul, had to be inside there somewhere.

Rose felt terrible for thinking that way, but coming to visit as much as she could, to remind Pearl of the best part of her life, was the only way she knew how to help.

‘I can’t stay long today, Pearl,’ Rose said, glancing at the clock on the wall. ‘But I’ll be back later this week. I wanted to check in with you.’

Rose placed her hand on Pearl’s uninjured wrist.

Pearl barely blinked or acknowledged the touch. She merely went on eating and staring out the window.

Rose stood from her chair, desperate to keep a brave smile plastered on her face. She kissed Pearl’s head and walked away.

‘Ms. Barros,’ someone said just as Rose reached the hallway.

Rose turned, and Jessie stood there. She was much younger than Rose realized. Her heart-shaped face was baby-like. She had a broad smile that made Rose think that this was a newer job for her. As much as the nurses loved and cared for the residents, The Cottage saw more turnover than most of the other sections of the compound.

‘Thanks for coming by,’ she said. ‘We haven’t officially met yet.’

Rose offered her hand. ‘Nice to meet you. Please call me Rose.’

‘Does your family live in the area?’

‘Just me.’ Rose knew that there was information in Pearl’s chart about their family, but she sensed Jessie wanted to talk to someone. Maybe connect.

Rose was happy to oblige. It was her way. ‘My father passed away years ago, and my sister lives…’ Rose trailed off. She had no idea where Reen lived now. Reen bounced around to more places than a flight attendant. Hell, she could even be a flight attendant for all Rose knew. ‘My sister lives out of town. She doesn’t visit much.’ Or ever.

Jessie stuck out her lip. ‘That’s a shame.’

Bruce, one of the male residents, leaned over his wheelchair, trying to grab a nearby cane.

‘You’ve got a runner,’ Rose said.

Jessie jolted. ‘I better get on that.’ She gave Rose a little wave then took off.

Rose took one last glance at Pearl before leaving. As Rose walked down the hallway, her chin trembled, and she cursed to herself as she dug into her purse for a tissue.

Rose was only half an hour late for work that morning. The return traffic was a bit slower, caused by construction and weather. The last-minute repairs were necessary to keep the flow of tourists into the quiet beach towns. The sudden down-pouring rain slowed the cars to a crawl. And it especially did nothing for her mood.

The Siren restaurant was on the far side of The Burrow, right on the water’s edge.

It was the only mermaid-themed restaurant nearby, adding to the lore surrounding the town. Tourists loved the sea-themed decor and the aptly named menu items – Under the Sea-weed Salad, Dive-In Antipasto, Boatload of Nachos, to name a few.

Rose parked near the street, not wanting to take away the closer spots from customers. Entering through the back of the restaurant, she punched in on the time clock before removing her coat and placing her sopping mess of a jacket onto the hook by the door.

‘Rosie, that you?’ Missy called from the kitchen.

‘Yeah,’ Rose said and pushed through the double doors into the kitchen. ‘Want me to start in the dining room?’

‘How’s Pearl?’ Missy asked.

A pinching sensation in her chest stopped her in her tracks. It was a good thing Missy was busy cleaning the counters. Even though Rose had washed them the night before, Missy was a perfectionist and germophobe. While she worked, she kept her blonde hair back from her face with a battered baseball cap.

‘She’s fine,’ Rose said.

Missy turned, digging her hand into her hip. Her freckled cheeks flushed. ‘They called you this morning because she’s fine?’

Rose grabbed the bucket of clean utensils. ‘She fell, I guess. Sprained her wrist. But she’s okay.’

Missy chewed on her lip and stared at her shoes before lifting her gaze to her best friend. ‘Glad to hear it.’

Rose sighed. Missy knew well enough to leave some things alone.

A rumble of thunder vibrated the utensils in the nearby clean bucket.

Missy tsked. ‘Not sure we’re going to get a lot of customers today.’

Rose grabbed the bucket and held it against her hip. ‘I can handle it once the rest of the staff comes in if you want to leave early.’

Missy nodded. ‘Jake’s supposed to call today.’

‘What time? I’m sorry I dragged you out of bed.’

Missy waved a dismissive hand. Jake’s phone calls from overseas came sporadically, but Rose knew Missy didn’t want to miss one conversation with her husband who was on tour in the Middle East.

‘I’ll get the dining room set up,’ Rose said, grateful for the reprieve. She pushed through to the dining room and pulled the cords of each of the shades that covered the massive bay windows, giving customers a view of the stretch of ocean. The outside patio seated most of the customers. In the summer months, people packed those seats from lunch through to dinner. Between the awning and the view, most preferred sitting outside. With the constant breeze across the Atlantic and the fans hung from the canopy, it was the perfect place to share a meal.

As she took the chairs from on top of the tables lining the interior dining room, Rose recalled the last meal she had with Mom at the house. It wasn’t her fondest memory of her mother. Pearl had snapped in the middle of the meal, shouting, and telling Rose to get out of her house. After ending up on the sharp end of a plastic knife – thankfully Rose had switched them a week before – Rose had no choice. She’d needed help.

Shaking those thoughts from of her head, she went to the serving station to start organizing. As she rolled the forks and knives into little napkin burritos, the storm outside raged.

A shiver rolled down her spine as the waves crashed against the rock jetty near the outdoor patio.

Storms always did this to her; ever since she was little and almost drowned in the ocean. Admittedly, she was more happy than sad when she finally moved out of her childhood home. No more danger right at her door. She preferred her walk-up apartment on the second floor of the widowed Mrs. Collins’s house.

Even though she no longer had a view of the ocean, she always felt it. It was something ingrained in her that not even a brush with death could stop. Coming to work at The Siren gave her that little hint of exhilaration while not forcing her to her knees in terror. It was a thin line, but she’d dealt with it. She was the only one who could take care of her mother. The only one who wanted to.

The napkin slipped from her trembling hands three times before she got it right.

Sometime later, Donnie, the 22-year-old busboy, sauntered into the dining room. He flipped the rest of the lights on and crossed into the kitchen, tying his chin-length brown hair to the nape of his neck before winking at Rose.

Holding back an eye roll, she pressed her lips together in what she hoped appeared as a polite smile.

He’d made moves on her, several times before. And much to his dismay, Rose turned him down every single time. He was cute but too young. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to handle the six-year age gap.

Though, some days, it felt like much more than that. Between caring for her ailing mother and working to pay the bills, there wasn’t time for dating. She was a spinster in the making, and it didn’t help that Missy constantly berated her about going on dates.

It wasn’t as if she wanted to be alone. She wanted love. More than she cared to admit. She had a specific picture in mind for her perfect relationship. It mirrored her parents to a T.