Forgive Me by Kateri Stanley (love letters to the dead txt) 📗

“Like The Candyman or Bloody Mary?”

“Exactly, but those two stories were based off real life situations or people. The lumberjack displays an essence of mystery. Whether it’s true, I don’t know. The Candyman was a terrible bloody tale of a black man who fell in love with a white woman. He was murdered by a group of white men who didn’t approve of the interracial romance. Bloody Mary was loosely based on Mary Tudor, a British monarch who had hundreds of people burned at the stake. But that’s the thing with urban legends, they change all the time because we’re influenced by our society. There are different versions everywhere. I’ve researched and found other distinct variations. In another form, Candyman was the focus of brutal bullying; he was covered in honey and thrown into a bush, hungry wasps stung him to death and Bloody Mary was about a woman scorned who tumbled into murderous madness, seeking vengeance on her cheating lover.”

Isaac smiled warmly. “Maybe, you should write an article about it.”

“I might do.”

“Can you tell me more about the lumberjack? If you’re okay with it...”

“It’s a classic anti-hero story. An innocent family torn apart, a damaged child suffering through and witnessing violence, then he ventures out, seeking revenge. They say he’s still out there, with his mask and axe. Late at night, if you hear someone on the stairs, it’s him patrolling your house, keeping you safe.”

“Sounds sad,” Isaac said. “How did you hear about it?”

“My dad. I think it was to scare me. We stayed in a cabin when I was younger and I used to roam the woods sometimes, it kept me out of trouble.” Stripe felt her stomach tighten, especially when her father wafted into her memory. It’s been years but it still hurts.

Isaac shifted on the stool. “Your page is ready.”

“Wow. You've done a really good job. You got the colour scheme right and...” She tipped her chin towards him. “It’s almost like we’ve met before...”

Isaac shifted again, his blue eyes darting around the room.

Aaawww, he doesn’t get it. “Can you make my page look more like your blog?”

“You've read my blog?” Isaac asked, sounding surprised.

“Of course. You asked me to write an article about you…”

“Not me. About my company.”

Shit. “Sorry, that was a figure of speech. What I meant to say instead, is that it’s predominantly about your business but readers will also want to know about its creator. And that’s you. For example, why do we get information about the author on the cover of a novel? What's up with the Tom guy in the white t-shirt on MySpace?”

He laughed. “I get you now. I agree about MySpace. He stole my idea. We were in the same class.”

She wanted to jump up and down like a kid. “Can I put that in the article?”

“As long as you focus more on the website, then I’ll allow it.”

Oh, will you now? Her stomach tightened again. Hey, behave. She knew she had to say something. “Can I ask you a question?”

Isaac stared at her with concern. “Is there something wrong?”

“No, I just wanted to ask...” She pressed stop on the recorder and looked back at him. “As we’re talking about your blog, I scoped you out last night. Something...caught my eye.” She leaned towards his laptop. “May I?”

“Of course, go for it.”

Stripe clicked on his profile and found the treasure for him.

Isaac laughed nervously. “Why do I feel like I’m about to be interrogated?”

She smiled. “Believe me, you'd know if I was pulling a serious one on you.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Well, when we were talking about you studying at NYU yesterday. I brought up an old friend from high school. Cameron Storms?”

“Yes, I remember.”

“So, last night I was looking through your blog and found one of your news bulletins and I came across this picture.” She pointed to the image on the screen, it was taken at a gathering of some kind and Isaac was in it with his arms round an older man and woman. “This picture unnerved me a little because...” she pointed to the woman he was embracing. “I recognise her. That’s Cameron’s mother.”

He started to giggle.

“I’m being serious now, Isaac.”

He smirked. “What do you mean? That's my mom and dad, Grace and Ted Payne. We were at a party celebrating the website launch. I told you, I didn’t know Cameron. She was in my class, but I never got to know her personally.”

“Well, you weren’t sure at first. You said she was a he, before I corrected you.” There was something about his laughter she wasn’t enjoying. “I know it sounds dumb but, I’m positive that's her mom. The reason I know is because I’ve seen her before, I’ve been in the same room as her.”

Stripe had seen her perched on the edge of a seat, her hair cut short to her chin, her posture straight like a soldier. She was putting on the act to save her daughter’s terrible reputation, Stripe remembered Beverley pleading with Principal Charlotte and Coach Lucy, the feeling of being in trouble was so unsettling.

My daughter never gets into fights...

Stripe could vouch that the woman on the screen said those cutting words to Beverley: Neither does my daughter.

“Are you related to Cameron? I mean, you do have a likeness. Very similar eyes, and hair colour.”

“No, I’m not.” Isaac replied, smiling.

“You’re not cousins then? Cameron did say she was an only child.”

“No, not related in the slightest iota. Do you want another coffee?”

“Yes, thanks.” And wipe off the charm.

Isaac rose and started making her drink. “I think my mom just looks like Cameron’s mother. It’s coincidental. People can appear similar to each other, even if they live on the other side of the globe.” He returned back with her coffee. “I can promise you right now that Grace Payne is not her, also I’m not Cameron’s brother, cousin, lover, friend. You name it.”

Stripe felt the blush of embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I