“Just let me take Michael. Let me help calm him down.”
I didn’t want to let him go, but Holly seemed sincere enough, and I thought it might buy some time and sympathy.
“Come to Holly, sweet boy.” She smiled brightly at Michael, who didn’t seem afraid of her. “Let’s look at the toys I’ve got here.” She took him to the large basket of infant toys she had for Seraphina, who wouldn’t be ready for them for months.
I sank back into the comfortable chair, telling myself I wouldn’t fall asleep. I had to persuade them to let us get to Clareston and my father and Nonie. I thought about Eva, but I knew I didn’t dare tell them what I suspected about Rachel.
“You said the policeman pursued you?” David came all the way into the room. “Something about the car being stolen?”
“It has to be a misunderstanding, doesn’t it?” I tried a smile. Of course I knew it was nothing of the sort, but I didn’t want to complicate things. “My car has never been stolen.”
“But why would someone report it, then?”
I didn’t like the way David was looking at me at all—as though I were a teenager prone to lying. I hadn’t lied. Everything I had told them was the truth, but I had seen in their faces that they weren’t sure what to think. I had been an idiot to come to them. They weren’t really my friends. Complete strangers would have been better. I wasn’t thinking straight, and now I couldn’t stop the flood of panic inside me.
Holly had Michael, and I was going to have to try to get him from her without them becoming suspicious. If I had to walk all the way to Clareston, I would get Michael to safety and my father’s house. Why had I come to this town? Press had fooled me in some horrible way. I imagined then that Holly and David were a part of it all, that they had been involved in Press’s duplicity. Olivia had never truly warmed to them. What if it hadn’t been because of her dislike of Jewish people? Perhaps she knew something about the Webbs the way she knew something about Press. But Olivia wasn’t there to protect either Michael or me. I had to be smart.
“Use your head, Lottie.” Nonie was always trying to make me be sensible, and I was, most of the time. God, how I wished she were with us.
Michael yawned, making Holly smile.
“Press hasn’t been himself since Eva died. Can’t you see he blames me? He can’t forgive me? This is just one way he’s trying to hurt me. Surely you can understand how hard it’s been.”
I thought I saw sympathy in David’s eyes, but I wasn’t sure. Bringing up Eva might have been a mistake. I imagined then that the world was divided into two groups of people: those who believed Eva’s death was my fault and blamed me; and those who believed I was responsible, but pitied me. My hope was that David Webb was in the second group.
“You can’t just take a man’s son away from him, Charlotte. Especially if the boy’s injured.”
“He’s fine. Can’t you see he’s fine? Look at him. He’s just exhausted.”
David glanced at Michael, then back at me.
“I’m calling Jack.” When I started to protest, he said, “It’s either Jack or the hospital, Charlotte. You’re not a child. You know what’s right, here.”
“Then stop treating me like a child.” Getting up, I bent to take Michael from Holly’s arms, but she held fast to him. I tugged, trying to pull him away. He called out for me, sounding frightened.
“You can’t. David, we can’t let her leave here with him.”
“Then just let me use the phone. It’s in the kitchen, yes?” It was the best chance I had to reach my father.
Before I knew what was happening, David took ahold of my shoulders and pulled me backwards so that I fell back against him. Even though he was nearly two inches shorter than I, he had control.
“Listen to yourself, Charlotte. Listen.” He turned me around to face him. “Do you want to hurt your son, too?”
Stunned and sickened into silence, I could only look down at the room’s expensive wall-to-wall carpet. Michael continued to cry for me, but I couldn’t bear to look at him.
Half an hour later, I was resting on the beige velvet sofa, stroking Michael’s hair as he slept in my arms. My badly bruised leg was extended over the cushions. They had argued that calling my father—who was still recovering from the hit-and-run accident—in the middle of the night would unnecessarily alarm him. I knew they were wrong, but I didn’t have the energy to disagree. But they had promised to tell Jack that he was to come alone, without Press. Yet when Jack arrived, his face creased with concern, Press was close behind.
I would be back at Bliss House, a prisoner, before the sun rose.
Chapter 38
Upstairs, Upstairs