After, there was a period of chaos as serving platters were passed and I noticed that Rebecca was still trying to maintain some control, however badly. I probably could not have done any better in her place.
But I had my own plans, so I ate a small portion of potatoes, roasted pork, and green beans quickly. Then I refilled one of the nearly empty serving plates, stood, and announced I would take it to Talitha.
I could see Stephen was about to object, but Kurt spoke up. “Please pardon Linda. She has no more children of her own at home, and has been so unhappy not to be able to mother anyone. I would be very appreciative if you would let her do this.”
I was grateful for Kurt’s intervention. For all his dislike of Stephen, Kurt knew how to handle an arrogant man when he was determined to do it. I wondered how many men in church he spoke to like this, men who were not so different from Stephen.
Sarah glanced up at me, as if about to ask if I knew where I was going, and then seemed to decide she wasn’t going to help me.
I could manage without her. I hurried upstairs. I wasn’t exactly sure which room was Talitha’s, but with no one else around, I felt less intrusive opening doors and peering inside. I held the plate full of food in one hand like a waitress and turned doorknobs with the other, calling out “Talitha!” quietly as I went.
After searching the second floor with no luck, I went up to the next floor. The fourth door on the third floor, a couple of doors past the bunkroom where Kurt and I were supposed to spend the night, opened to a room covered in pink and white frills. There was lace everywhere, and the carpet was a dusky shade of rose. Talitha’s small figure was obscured by the pink blanket. Long blonde hair splayed over the pillow.
I set down the plate of food on the dresser—white with pink stenciled designs. Then I moved to the bed and put a hand to Talitha’s forehead, which was warm, but not hot. She didn’t rouse to my touch and was breathing very deeply.
Had Stephen Carter given her drugs to make her sleep this heavily? Had he hurt her physically after he’d left us in the backyard with the cat’s body? Her face seemed swollen with crying, but I couldn’t guess if she had any other physical harm done to her since I couldn’t see her arms and legs under the blanket.
Why didn’t they teach us in Relief Society about how to spot signs of abuse, or how to know when to call DCFS without worrying about doing more harm than good?
Reluctantly, I lifted the blanket and saw that Talitha was wearing a short nightie that left her legs mostly bare. Still asleep, she tugged at the blanket, probably because she was cold. But her legs were pale and unbruised as far as I could see. No cuts, no scars except for one line on her calf that was probably from a perfectly natural fall. But how would I know for sure?
“Talitha?” I whispered, next to her ear.
She stirred and moaned something, then tried to turn over.
I shook her shoulder gently. “Talitha, I need to talk to you. Can you wake up a little?”
Her eyes opened again, and I saw that they were rimmed with red. I didn’t know if that was a result of drugs or the crying.
“Do you remember me? My name is Linda Wallheim. My son is marrying your sister, Naomi.”
No response.
“Did your father punish you?” I asked. I needed her to tell me the truth, but she still might not know me well enough to do it. It was a Catch-22, where she knew Naomi too well to tattle on other family members and me not well enough.
“I’m hungry,” said Talitha, tucking the blanket around her legs tightly, ignoring my question.
“Well, lucky for you, I brought this.” I offered her the plate of food I hadn’t really been sure she would eat. “Do you want me to help?” I asked. “I could feed you.”
“Like a baby?” she said, making a funny face.
“Or cut the pork for you?” I tried again.
She shook her head. “I can do it myself.”
She sat up and ate very carefully, asking for a napkin, which I had happened to bring, and using it to wipe her lips after nearly every bite. It took her quite some time to get through the food, her hands moving slowly.
She had such a big personality packed into her tiny body, I thought with a smile. Naomi had described Talitha as innocent and carefree, but I wasn’t sure that was true. At times she seemed burdened by some invisible weight; and at other times, she seemed wonderfully bright and engaged.
When Talitha was finished eating, I took the plate.
She smiled at me and said, “Do you know where my cat is?” She looked at me with wide eyes and heart-breaking earnestness.
I felt my heart lurch. “Lucy?”
Talitha nodded. “My father doesn’t like her to be in the house, but sometimes I sneak her in.” She pointed to the open window behind my head. “She knows which window to come in, and I don’t let her go into any other rooms.”