Scarlett let out a breath of relief. Haddie liked this girl. She’d liked her immediately and without doubt. And really, that was all Scarlett needed to know. Anything more would be purely about formalities.
“What have you got there?” Amelia asked, pointing to the container Haddie had placed on the coffee table.
“It’s a baby bird,” Haddie said, drawing the dark piece of fabric back slightly.
Amelia leaned over farther and let out a soft gasp of breath. “Oh my goodness. It fell out of its nest?”
Haddie paused but nodded. “We think so,” she said, glancing at Scarlett. “We have to take care of it now. We thought she might not make it because she’s tiny and hurt, but my mommy said she’s a fighter.” There was a gravity in Haddie’s tone that Scarlett had never heard before and, with surprised interest, she glanced over to see her gaze glued to Millie as though she was in a semi-trance.
“Poor little thing,” Amelia murmured, putting her hand over her heart. At the gesture, Haddie blinked and looked down. “How do you know it’s a she?” Scarlett had wondered that too when Haddie said it. Scarlett had been referring to the bird as a he, but really, she had no basis for that.
“I just . . . feel it,” Haddie said.
Amelia smiled at Haddie. “Ah.”
“She eats egg,” Haddie explained. “But we’re going to stop at the pet store after this and buy some baby bird formula.”
Scarlett watched as the two girls—their golden heads bent together over the tiny bird—discussed its care. She marveled at the fact that there was something so immediately comfortable about Amelia, as though she was a long-lost friend they were catching up with. What a sweet girl she seemed to be.
When Haddie gently placed the cloth over the bird, Scarlett said, “Well, speaking of that little guy, or, I mean, girl, we’d better get going before she wakes up hungry. It was lovely meeting you, Millie. I’d love it if you’d watch Haddie. I think you two get along great.”
“I’d love to,” Millie said. “Especially now after meeting Haddie.” She offered a smile. “My parents had me later in life—sort of a surprise baby, you know?—so there were no siblings, just me.” She looked at Haddie. “I’ve always wished for a little sister.”
Haddie smiled back shyly at Millie.
“Then this works out perfectly,” Scarlett said. “Right, Haddie?” She pushed a lock of hair off her daughter’s forehead as she nodded. When she looked back at Millie, she asked, “Your mother is okay with Haddie coming here some days?”
“Oh definitely. She’s shy, but my mom’s really nice.” She nodded up to the picture of Jesus and leaned in closer. “Very involved with the church if you didn’t already guess.”
Scarlett smiled. “You must be part of the youth group? Sister Madge mentioned it earlier.”
Millie shook her head. “This fall I will be. But there’s a separate group for the original town members. Stuck-up, right?” She rolled her eyes and Scarlett breathed out a laugh.
“Um . . . I’ll go with”—she squinted one eye—"traditional.”
Millie grinned. “Oh!” she said, turning her attention to Haddie. “I forgot to tell you I have a craft room upstairs with everything you can imagine. We can color and make friendship bracelets, and do all sorts of things. Maybe we could even make a little cradle for your baby bird so she doesn’t have to sleep in a box.”
“A craft room,” Scarlett repeated, smiling at her daughter. “That sounds right up Haddie’s alley, right?” Haddie’s eyes had lit up as Millie described the room and now she nodded enthusiastically at Scarlett.
“And do you feel okay watching Haddie at Lilith House some days?” she asked Millie. “I’d pick you up, of course.”
“Promise there are no ghosts there? That’s what the kids say.” She let out a soft laugh.
Scarlett forced a smile, thinking about the fear she’d felt the night before at the sounds of someone climbing up the inside of the wall. Kids, just kids. She resisted a shiver. “Ghosts? No. We haven’t seen any, right, Haddie?”
Haddie nodded, even as her eyes slid away.
Millie let out a small giggle and shrugged. “We’re not afraid of ghosts anyway, right, Haddie?” She winked at her.
“Sometimes,” Haddie said softly. “But not all the time.”
Scarlett set up an appointment to pick Amelia up for a few hours of childcare the next day and they said their goodbyes to Millie.
As they stepped back out into the sunshine, Scarlett felt as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders, and this feeling of peace had descended, Millie’s sweet cheer a balm to her soul that she hadn’t even realized she’d needed so desperately. So many things in Farrow felt so odd—disconcerting—but here was this girl, this breath of fresh air.
The move was a major adjustment for both of them, and Scarlett had felt guilty for taking her sensitive child away from the only home she’d ever known, from Merrilee’s love and affection, from Gram’s steady presence. So to see the joy in her face as she interacted with Millie was the best gift she could possibly receive.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Thirteen Years Ago
Kandace was having the strangest dreams. Only the weirdest part was, she really couldn’t remember anything about them. All she knew was that she would wake up with this odd sort of heavy feeling, but when she’d tried to piece together the dream that left her with those sensations, she couldn’t remember a single thing about them.
It was the school. This damn house where an oppressive feeling of doom suffocated them. The way she felt both lost in time and utterly aware of every tick of the clock.
The way screams sometimes echoed from the floors below, and then one of the girls would be missing from class for the next few days. She wanted to ask them about it, to get their account, but socializing with anyone other than your roommate—or in her case roommates—was not facilitated. Somehow it was all the more horrifying to let your own mind wander as to what was happening in rooms beyond your own. She wondered if Ms. Wykes knew that and figured she must. Everything here was calculated.
“What happened to you?” Aurora asked quietly, her words mumbled around a mouth of toothpaste.
Kandace looked at her in the mirror in front of where they were both brushing their teeth at the large farmhouse sink in their shared bathroom and then followed her gaze to her arm where there were several small, round bruises.
For a moment she frowned in confusion, but then she remembered the kid grabbing her arm as he’d pulled her from the forest. She hadn’t thought it’d been with enough strength to cause bruising, but obviously it had been. She wasn’t going to mention the kid to Aurora though. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust her. It wasn’t that she did either, it was just that she wasn’t going to risk getting the boy in trouble after he’d put himself on the line to help her.
“I was late to class yesterday. One of those old bitches pulled me into the room like I’d personally insulted her with my tardiness.”
Aurora’s eyes widened and she glanced behind her in the mirror nervously as if one of those “old bitches” might walk in unexpectedly at any moment. God, everyone walked on eggshells around here. She was beginning to as well. The rigorous academics, hours of Bible study, the rigid schedule, strange sounds in the walls, secret, forgotten children living in the basement, and of course those screams. She felt like she was walking through a different life, one she had no compass for, one in which every step felt precarious and uncertain.