She told Merrilee about the church playroom and the disabled little boy with the leg braces. She told her how she’d questioned Haddie who had insisted she hadn’t meant what she said. When she’d finished, Merrilee was quiet for a moment. “Haddie’s never been cruel. I’m sure . . . well, I can’t say what that was about, but this is all a big change for her too. Maybe she’s a little confused . . . not exactly herself. That would be natural.”
“Yes, I know. I believed her, I just . . . well, you’re right. It’s going to take time to adjust. Everything here is new and strange for both of us. This house and the town . . . it has a strange vibe to it.” Scarlett leaned into a room, the door half-open. Inside was empty except for a metal bed. She frowned. Had someone once slept in this basement? A strange chill skittered up Scarlett’s spine.
“A girl from LA says a place has a strange vibe? Now I’m concerned. What could possibly shock you that the City of Angels doesn’t already provide? In spades. Although,” she said, dragging the word out, “you are used to the big city and moved to the boondocks.”
She acknowledged what Merrilee said with a chuckle. Her friend was right. But it was more than that too, although Scarlett didn’t know enough about Farrow yet to say exactly what.
“Met anyone interesting?” Merrilee asked.
“Hmm,” Scarlett hummed. “I met the Deputy Sheriff of Farrow. He’s . . . interesting.”
“Ooh, cute interesting, or creepy interesting?”
Scarlett laughed. She would have said cute interesting before today. Before he’d scowled at her and walked away without saying goodbye. “The jury’s out. He’s got a bit of a strange vibe too.”
“Well, I expect you to get back to me on that.”
“Ha. I will. He might have a girlfriend, so there really won’t be much to mention.”
There was a short pause and when Merrilee spoke, the laughter had faded from her voice. “You know,” she said, “if things don’t feel right, now or . . . at any point . . . well, you can come back anytime.”
“I know,” Scarlett said quietly. Only really, she couldn’t. For so long, she’d had this feeling her life was somewhere else, waiting to begin. She’d felt it inside herself, not as a rush on her part, not as an action to fulfill, but as a . . . promise. Something that would make itself known to her when the time had come. Such overwhelming certainty had gripped her when she’d seen the ad for Lilith House. Here. Here it was, finally, the promise that had been waiting to be fulfilled.
Her mother had always said Scarlett had a sixth sense, but Scarlett had written that notion off long ago after making one bad decision after another. If she really had such sharp instincts, why in the hell did she keep making such pitiful choices? At that thought, her daughter came to mind, her chest pinching. One of those “poor choices” had resulted in her beloved girl, so how could she think of it that way? “I’m going to stick it out though, Merrilee. There will be challenges, but I feel like this is the place we’re meant to be. At least for now.”
She heard the smile in Merrilee’s voice when she said, “Then I trust that it is too. And,” she went on, “I’m going to come visit you just as soon as I can get a few days off. Maybe in a couple months?”
“Anytime would be wonderful. I miss you already.”
“I miss you guys too. Give Haddie a kiss from me, okay?”
“I will.” They said their goodbyes, and Scarlett dropped her phone back in her pocket, nudging the next door open. Inside was another bare bed. When she peered inside the third room, the same sight awaited her. Weird. Would the school have put students down here for some reason? Seemed odd and . . . disturbing. Like she’d stumbled upon the school’s version of solitary confinement. Stop letting your imagination run away with you, she admonished herself as she turned back toward the stairs. They’re probably just storage rooms.
She made her way quickly through the piles of boxes and what looked mostly like junk. She’d have to make arrangements to have this hauled away once demo started on the house. As she was about to turn the corner and head up the stairs, she spotted something in the corner to her left. Could it be . . . she yanked the white sheet covering the object and let it drift to the floor, waving her hand to disperse the cloud of dust that had covered it. Just as she’d thought, a birdcage! How perfect. Haddie would love it, and it’d be a place she could safely set her little patient while the baby bird—she hoped—recovered.
She picked it up by the base and carried it up the stairs. She stopped in the kitchen to wipe the cage down, admiring the beautiful scrollwork of the bars. Scarlett didn’t necessarily love the idea of birds in cages, but for their temporary purposes, it would work nicely. And they’d leave the door propped open as a sign of their abiding belief that beautiful, feathered things should not be locked away, unable to fly as God intended.
She took it to their attic room where Haddie sat on the floor, her stuffed animals in a circle, the box holding the injured baby bird directly in front of her. Scarlett set the cage down and grinned at Haddie. “Look what I found in the basement. A recovery hospital for our little patient.”
Haddie stared at the cage for a moment, her eyes widening momentarily as her forehead creased in a frown. Her gaze moved to Scarlett, her lips parting slightly as though she was about to say something, but changed her mind. Haddie’s expression was so . . . strange.
Confused, Scarlett looked from the birdcage to Haddie. “We can leave the door open, baby. I just thought it would be a good temporary home. He’ll be right at your eye level and you can check on him easily . . .”
Haddie picked up the baby bird gently from the box, cradling him against her chest. She turned her shoulder outward as if . . . shielding him. Haddie moved her eyes to the cage, that same peculiar look on her face as she shook her head. “No,” she asserted. “I’ll just keep him with me.”
“Are you sure?” Scarlett glanced at the cage, wondering if it appeared scary for some reason to her daughter. “It’s perfectly—”
“No.” She lowered her face. “No, thank you,” she whispered.
Scarlett paused. Haddie was . . . Haddie, but all kids got strange ideas in their heads sometimes. She supposed the cage might look sort of imposing, especially to such a small girl. “Okay, then. I’ll just put it back.”
Haddie nodded, laying the baby bird back in the box.
“How’s he eating?”
“Good,” Haddie said, using a finger to smooth the downy fluff on the top of his head. Scarlett had looked online and found that softened dog food or well-mashed hard-boiled eggs could be fed to orphaned baby birds, so she’d prepared the eggs. If the little guy was eating well, it gave her even more hope that he’d survive. “How about you get all your friends ready for bed,” she said, smiling around at the circle of—primarily—fur-filled, non-egg-eating pals.
“Okay, Mommy,” Haddie said, shooting the cage one last wary glance. Scarlett picked up the apparently offensive piece of furniture and set it outside their room, shutting the door on it.
Half an hour later, Haddie was snuggled up in her bed, the baby bird next to her on the bedside table. Scarlett sat down on the bed and pulled the blanket to her chin. She stroked her daughter’s silken hair and leaned down and kissed her forehead. “I love you,” she murmured just as a loud creak sounded from a floor below. Haddie’s eyes widened. “It’s okay,” she said, smoothing Haddie’s hair back calmly even as her pulse quickened. “It’s an old house. There are going to be lots of creaks.”