Thankfully, it powered the kitchen. We wouldn’t lose the food in our fridge or freezer. And in here and in Dad’s office we’d have lights. For the rest of the house we had plenty of flashlights, candles, and fireplaces. Our heat was fueled by an oil heating system. It was as old as my dad and just as reliable. Never in my life had we been without heat when we needed it—something we were always grateful for in Maine.
The wind sounded louder, loud enough to hear through the stone, or more accurately, the windows. Little noise came through the stone. The rain was pelting the glass.
“It won’t be long now,” Gigi said, clicking her teeth. We all knew what she meant.
The soaking of the earth mixed with strong winds meant old, tired trees fell over and, while some would fall in the forest, others would fall by the road, taking down power lines with them. In every storm, my simple hope was that the trees would fall closer to town. It was an odd thing to hope for and perhaps a bit selfish. The closer to town the line broke, the more people who were without power and the more of a priority it became for the electric company to repair. Otherwise, it was only us and Sam, Jason, and, now, Luca. Two families were not a priority.
The door to the garage opened. Jackson barked, startled awake. Dad came in. Jackson rose to greet him and Avi ran to him.
“You came home early!” she squealed.
She’d be happy, now that all those she loved were safe, together. The storm wouldn’t get us.
“I wanted to get home before the trees fell across the road,” he said, lifting her into a hug.
“Smart man, my son,” Gigi said, clearly relieved he was home.
The two made eye contact, then focused on me. She’d told him about Thomas. I could tell by his expression.
A second later, the lights flickered and went off. A moment after, we heard the generator roar to life and the lights return. The oven and the microwave clocks blinked back to life.
“Did you hear what happened?” Avi said, her voice excited, like she had a fun yet important secret to tell him.
Dad squeezed her and set her on the floor. “Yes,” he said.
“How did you? It just happened.” She sounded disappointed she wasn’t the one to disclose the news.
“I sent him a text,” Gigi said, busying herself with wiping down the counter.
“Yes,” Dad said, “a text with minimal information and no follow-up.”
“You came home because of Thomas being a jerk to Siena, didn’t you?” Avi said, studying him for the truth.
“I came home because it’s where I was needed most,” Dad said, filling a glass with water.
“I’m sorry you were worried,” Gigi said as he stood beside her. “I was on the phone with Brenda. That’s why I didn’t take your calls.”
“I was afraid of something more,” Dad said, holding the glass tight in his hand.
“No, no.” Gigi’s voice had lightened. “We are all fine, aren’t we, girls?”
In her woe-is-me voice, Avi said, “I will be finer if someone plays with me.”
Dad chuckled. “Avila, I just walked in the door. I’ll play with you in a few minutes.”
“Lisieux,” Gigi said, “why don’t you and Avila go get a fire started in your dad’s office. It’s the perfect day for roasting marshmallows and a little extra warmth on a cold day never hurt anyone.”
“You just want to talk without us around,” Avi said, folding her arms.
“Yes,” Gigi said, “you are exactly correct. Now go, both of you.”
Dad took Lisieux’s book from her as she got up from the table. “Are you doing okay?” he said as he hugged her. She hugged him back.
“Yeah, I guess … I’m glad you’re home,” she said, her face pressed against his buttoned-down dress shirt.
“Me too,” he said, holding her tighter.
“Do you want to play chess later?” she asked, still holding on to him.
“I’d love to,” he said, and kissed her on the head.
“Okay,” she said. “Can I have my book back now?” Her face was still pressed to his chest.
He smiled and looked up to the ceiling. “Yes, but be sure you are the one to start the fire, not your sister.”
“Okay,” she said, taking the book from him and going down the hall to his office.
With them gone, Gigi sat at the table and Dad came beside me.
“How are you?” he asked me with concern.
I shrugged, not sure how to truthfully answer that question.
So many things were unclear. Thomas and his behavior, his desire to get me alone, the terror that thought brought me. But equally confusing, though far less terrifying, was Luca. I saw the handprint. His hand hadn’t made it. I wasn’t sure how anyone could have made it, and yet I saw it. It exists, and if it exists, do the creatures he told me about exist? And if they do exist, is he right about evil? Is it targeting me and my family? Is the inn full of demons? Is Thomas?
“It’s a lot to take in,” Dad said, watching my shifting expressions with concern.
I blinked. “Yes,” I said, and then I remembered something else.
I went to the table and sat across from Gigi. “You weren’t afraid,” I said.
“Afraid?”
“Of Thomas. You weren’t afraid even for a moment. I was, Luca was, even Jackson was, but you weren’t.”
“No,” she said, “I wasn’t afraid of Thomas.”
“Why not?” I asked, studying her.
“You think because I’m a frail old woman, I should fear a strong young man?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“No,” I said. “Not just because he is young and strong. He was acting crazy.”
“How crazy was he acting?” Dad said, sitting beside his mom, his eyes darting from hers to mine.
“Not all that crazy,” Gigi said, trying to calm his fears. She turned to me. “I wasn’t afraid, because you were in danger. I could sense it from the moment I stepped out of the house. And that awareness ….” She paused. “They always say there is no animal as dangerous as a mother protecting her young. That’s true in humans as well, and it’s true for grandmothers, not only mothers. Heaven help him if he’d tried to hurt you.”
“But he did,” I said, suddenly feeling panicked.
“What!” Dad said, his voice shaking with controlled rage.
“He tried. The picnic basket was empty,” I said, rubbing my hands on my thighs. “He wanted to get me alone. Why did he want to do that?”
Dad turned from me, his eyes too furious to look at me. “What did Brenda say?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.
“Not a lot. She apologized, said he’s been acting a little strange lately, but she and Phil will talk to him when he gets home this afternoon.”
Dad tapped his fingers on the table and inhaled a deep breath. “I’ll call Phil later,” Dad said, his voice back to normal. “For now, let’s try and not think of any of that. Instead, I say we have a celebration.”
“A celebration?” I said.
“Yes. Life should be celebrated, rain should be celebrated, cold weather should be celebrated, having my children and mother around me should be celebrated,” he said, sitting straighter. “I’ll get the marshmallows, chocolate, and graham crackers. You two can get the hot chocolate started.”