I opened the bathroom door. I heard Avi screaming below. She seemed to be happy, but the screaming meant she hadn’t been fed. I turned off the bathroom lights and decided to do some schoolwork. I went to the desk, my hand on the lamp. I pulled my hand away when I realized he was there.
Luca was in his regular spot, though instead of standing or even crouching, he was sitting with his head down. Like he was waiting for something that hadn’t started yet. I grabbed the side of my desk. Part of me wanted to confront him, to finally demand an answer to why he watched our windows. Another, larger part, wanted to pretend I noticed none of it—not the smeared window at the inn or his stalker-like behavior. Maybe Thomas was right, I thought for the first time; maybe Luca had come to church for me. If that was true, this had to stop. Like Gigi said, the best time to stop something was before it started. It was too late for that. This started weeks ago, but I could at least stop hiding in my room like a child.
I grabbed my fuzzy boots and slipped them on when I reached the top of the stairs.
“Where are you going?” Lisieux asked, coming up the stairs, her face glued to her book.
The chaos that was our baby sister raged below.
“How do you walk up the stairs while reading at the same time?” I asked.
Lisieux shrugged. “It’s a gift,” she said.
“Clearly,” I said. “When will dinner be ready?”
“Dad’s been saying five minutes for the last thirty minutes. So, probably twenty minutes.”
“Thanks,” I said, continuing down the stairs.
“Be back in a second,” I said to no one in particular as Avi was screaming and refusing food at the same time.
I slipped out the back door, scooting a sleeping Jackson out of the way.
I closed the door behind me and stopped. The cool night air made me shiver after the hot shower. My eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness. I moved toward the trees and heard rustling. I couldn’t see him … just the vague outline of the chicken coop in front of the forest.
“I know you’re there,” I said, keeping my voice even.
I stood, waiting, until he emerged from the shadows.
“What’s going on in your house?” Luca asked.
Even from out here, we could hear Avi.
“She doesn’t do well when she’s not fed on time,” I said.
“Yeah, I guess not,” he said, sounding worried for her.
“I answered your question, now you answer mine. Why are you here?” I said, crossing my arms.
His shoulders fell. “I told you it’s better you not know.”
“I accepted that answer before. I’m not going to accept it again,” I said, demanding the truth.
“It’s complicated,” he said.
“Are you watching my sisters and me?” I said, feeling disgusted at the thought.
“No, and you know I’m not. Otherwise you wouldn’t be out here—at least I hope you wouldn’t. I hope you have at least enough survival instincts to not confront some strange prowler, alone in the dark woods,” he said, though he was implying he didn’t think I had much in the way of survival instincts.
“You don’t think I can take care of myself?” I said.
“I think you have lots of great qualities, but self-preservation isn’t one of them, or isn’t one of your stronger gifts,” he said.
“I have enough sense to realize when someone is watching my house,” I said.
He took a step back. “You won’t believe me,” he said.
“Try me.”
He hesitated. “If I tell you, you’ll think I’m crazy.”
“Luca, you told me you can feel evil, and then at church, that you can feel good. Why did you show up there?”
“You saw me?”
“Of course I saw you. You weren’t invisible. I assume you came because you wanted to feel whatever you felt before,” I said, speaking fast and angrily.
He nodded cautiously. “You ate it,” he said, confused.
“Ate what?” I said, eyebrows drawn together.
“The round white things with the presence in it,” he said.
“Communion? Yes, that’s kind of the point,” I said, still irritated.
“Almost everyone did. Not the little kids and not Thomas. Does the one on the altar not eat the presence?” Luca asked with sincere interest.
I took a breath. The irritation was fading. His tone was so endearing it made it difficult to stay mad at him. “The kids younger than Avi aren’t old enough, but the altar servers always receive. I’m sure Thomas did.”
“No,” Luca said. “I was watching him closest of all. He didn’t consume the presence.”
“Why were you watching him?” I said, and then shook my head. “No! I came out here for an answer. An answer to a specific question. Tell me the actual reason you watch my house, or I’m telling my dad.”
He said nothing. He only stared through me, to my house.
“I’ll tell you,” he said. “But first I need you to answer a question. Then if you want to tell your dad, you can. Though, maybe you should tell Gigi first. She’ll at least somewhat understand, I hope.”
All I could think to say was Gigi wasn’t exactly a great example of normalcy, so I didn’t answer.
“What does your family do every night about this time, except not Saturday night and not tonight?” he asked.
A fresh Avi shriek came from the house.
“Typically, we are finishing dinner,” I answered.
“And then what?”
“I don’t know. Different things, depends on the night, I guess.”
He shook his head. “That doesn’t make sense. Something happens in there,” he said, pointing to my dad’s office. “Every night at about this time. It lasts for maybe half an hour and then it’s done.”
“In there?” I said, following the direction of his finger.
“Yes,” he said. “What is that room?”
“My dad’s office,” I said. “And—”
“And what?” he said with anticipation.
“After dinner each night, he goes in there and prays. Sometimes I go with him, usually not. Gigi and Avi are usually there, though, and sometimes Lisieux.”
“Prayer?” he said, stepping back and leaning against a tree. He stared past me with a look of disbelief.
“I answered your question, now answer mine. Why do you come here every night and stare at my house?”
His look was far off. He blinked and focused on me, his gaze so intense it frightened me. “I’m looking for my mom.”
Eighteen
Afraid he had lost his mind, I said, slowly, “Luca, your mom is dead.”
My dad had said Luca’s mom suffered from mental illness. Maybe Luca did too. I felt sorry for him and suddenly afraid of being outside alone with him.
“Yeah, she is,” he said solemnly.
I felt better that he didn’t deny that truth. “She died in Florida,” I said. “This is Maine. She isn’t buried here.” Her body wasn’t here; it was over a thousand miles away.
“I’m not looking for her grave.” He paused, his eyes searching mine as if hoping I understood something I didn’t. “I’m looking for her,” he said cautiously, aware of how ludicrous he sounded.