Charlotte's Story (Bliss House Novels)

I couldn’t move, but in that moment I’m sure I felt my heart stop. Eva. Press hadn’t wanted Eva. In my head, I screamed his name. Where was he? Why was he letting Rachel tell me these lies? But I knew the answer, didn’t I? They weren’t lies, and I had known it for a long, long time. It was in the way he looked at Michael. It was in the way Eva had followed after him, climbed onto his lap, begged for his attention. She had been so desperate. Deep down, she had known he didn’t love her.

He’d taken her from the nursery, surely telling her they were going on a special adventure—just the two of them. Leaving Michael and me behind. A trip to Auntie Rachel’s and Uncle Jack’s. Off to feed the geese and enjoy whatever other pleasures Rachel had planned. When I had taken her there, Rachel had given her ice cream for lunch and teased her that Nonie and I probably only gave her nasty vegetables. I had laughed! How easily I had believed that Rachel was only being indulgent.

Oh, God. Had they done things to her? We lived then in a world where few people—certainly not I—imagined that anyone would touch a child in a sexual way. It had been beyond my darkest, most suspicious thoughts. But I suddenly understood that it was a possibility. Looking into Rachel’s now-cold eyes, I knew she was capable of anything. What about Jack? Surely not a doctor. Who knew what these people were capable of? They had all become strangers to me.

Michael? Where was Michael?

Rachel was drinking more wine. A man wearing a horse mask and a white dinner jacket and red bow tie came up behind her. The wine in Rachel’s glass sloshed a bit as he pressed himself against her back and wrapped an arm about her waist. She wavered, but then pushed him away, nonplussed. She had no time for him.

“I should let him have you.” She grinned wickedly. “He’s pretty good. Not Press good, but pretty good.” Then she was suddenly somber. The music had changed again. It was no longer classical music, but some sort of strange drumming. Behind Rachel, a kind of collective shout went up.

“Everyone’s happy tonight. Do you know why? Because Press is in charge now instead of that old letch Zion. Everybody loves Press. Did you know that? Everyone loves Press, everyone wants Press. It’s this house, too. We belong here, Charlotte, because this is where Press belongs. He’s a part of us, and we’re a part of him.”

There was a satisfaction in Rachel’s eyes that sickened me. When, God, would I be released from this horror? What had Jack done to me? My eyes were so dry, I felt they might wither in my head. Was Michael sleeping somewhere else in the house? Was he with Shelley? How seamlessly she’d fit into our life after Nonie’s departure. I prayed that they hadn’t hurt her as well. She was hardly a child, but she was so young and vulnerable, with no one but her brother to look out for her. Like me, she was alone. And at that moment, I felt alone in a way I’d never felt before. I had nothing. Not even Michael. How could I protect him? The truth was that I couldn’t.

The tears began again. This time they slid down both temples and I felt them work their way into my hair.

“Darling, darling, darling.” Rachel kissed my forehead and stroked my arm. “Eva didn’t cry, darling. Did you know that? She was such a brave little thing. Bold, even. She marched down to the pond with her bag of crumbs for the geese. So proud of herself. You would have been proud of her too. Like a little angel out among the geese. They’re obnoxious bastards sometimes, but at first I had the real sense that they were being careful with her. Isn’t that funny? Perhaps because she was so tiny—not much bigger than they were.” There was a faraway look in her reddened eyes. “I promise I told her to be careful. Those geese can bite. Well, you remember how that one nipped at her that last time you both came over. She knew better than to tease them with the crumbs. I mean, she was throwing them right at them. I don’t know. Maybe she accidentally hit one in the face? It was hard to tell from the porch.”

I could see Eva at the water’s edge in her pink playsuit, hair pulled back with the blue velvet ribbon that Rachel had tied around her head, surrounded by hungry geese. Geese that snapped at her and honked. She’d stuck close by me the day she’d been nipped. I knew she was afraid of the geese, had wanted me to come with her to feed them. And I knew Rachel was lying. She’d made Eva go down to the pond alone. Afraid.

“I shouted for her to get back from them, and she tried, bless her heart. She really tried. But those mean old geese were just determined to get at that bag, and she just wouldn’t let go. But she wouldn’t run away either! She was stubborn, Charlotte, just like you. If only she’d let go, they would’ve taken it and left her alone.”

She was alone. My baby was alone by the water. Harried. Afraid.

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