her!”
“Nothing’s going to happen. Trust me.” He stared very seriously back into Ava’s accusing eyes. She shivered. David took a few steps towards her, a strange glint in his eyes, “Leave her alone. I’ll take care of it.”
Lena turned and started marching back up to the house. She wanted to trust both her mother and David, but it was moments like that that prevented her. As honest as David was, he was going over her head, and she hated it. When she got back up to her room, she saw out the window that David and her mother were still talking.
Lena had hoped that hearing what was in the room would have opened it to her, but it didn’t. That day she had wandered back to her room to read, slightly light headed, and continued to attempt reading. She was greatly pleased, however, that she was only light headed—she appeared to be gaining a tolerance for David’s teaching. Her efforts to rediscover the lost brown diary went unrewarded.
She found herself going back up to the third floor constantly over the next several days, attempting to ascertain if anything had changed. She paced back and forth in the rooms, which were admittedly starting to fill up, but not with anything useful to her. There were dressers with old clothes, boxes of old lamps and empty picture frames, and covered furniture. She sorted through it all, because she knew there had to be some truth, or at least something that would spark her to find the way to the upper floors.
Finally, one day, she thought she had struck gold when she found a box of old picture albums. They were mostly empty at the time, but Lena reasoned they might work like the library books, and so secreted them off to her room, where she inspected all of the pictures very closely. Some were of people she didn’t recognize. Some she did.
There were pictures of her mother as a girl. She knew they were her mother, because she had seen that face in starkly clean hotel mirrors every day when she was young. The pictures were old and slightly yellowed, but still in very good condition. She apparently liked wearing dresses then, too. The Waldgrave house hadn’t changed much, unless the pictures lied—her mother, next to the koi pond, in front of the house, entertaining at a party, smiling in the garden… A span of several years of her life, and even a few photographs that seemed to foretell Lena’s future; pictures of her mother when she was late in her teens. The last photograph of her mother was when she looked to be very early in her twenties, at some sort of party. She was standing in the living room as a man, who appeared to be her date, attempted to hold her hand. While he appeared to be having a good time, Lena quickly recognized her mother’s forced smile. Not the one she had when she laughed, which was rare, but the one she had every time she talked to David.
The back of the photograph only bore three words: Avalon’s engagement party.
Lena flipped the photo back over, and carefully analyzed the man. She could only imagine that Ava must have broken the engagement at some point, because the man in the photo wasn’t her father. Curiosity urged her to ask Ava, but her better judgment told her the issue was too personal.
It wasn’t until she went back through the photos a second time that she noticed something odd. A cat, with short hair and overly large ears, appeared in most of them. It was a reddish brown color, with blue eyes. A family pet, maybe? While young Ava made a crown of daisies, the cat stood still as a stone carving, tense, staring into the camera. Where she stood in front of the house, the cat could be seen leaping down from the window behind her. And there—peeking from behind the door, going up the stairs, glowing eyes in the shadows of the distant trees. But the thing that bothered her wasn’t the cat itself, but rather the fact that it didn’t seem to have aged in any of the pictures. However, Lena had never owned a cat, and
“Nothing’s going to happen. Trust me.” He stared very seriously back into Ava’s accusing eyes. She shivered. David took a few steps towards her, a strange glint in his eyes, “Leave her alone. I’ll take care of it.”
Lena turned and started marching back up to the house. She wanted to trust both her mother and David, but it was moments like that that prevented her. As honest as David was, he was going over her head, and she hated it. When she got back up to her room, she saw out the window that David and her mother were still talking.
Lena had hoped that hearing what was in the room would have opened it to her, but it didn’t. That day she had wandered back to her room to read, slightly light headed, and continued to attempt reading. She was greatly pleased, however, that she was only light headed—she appeared to be gaining a tolerance for David’s teaching. Her efforts to rediscover the lost brown diary went unrewarded.
She found herself going back up to the third floor constantly over the next several days, attempting to ascertain if anything had changed. She paced back and forth in the rooms, which were admittedly starting to fill up, but not with anything useful to her. There were dressers with old clothes, boxes of old lamps and empty picture frames, and covered furniture. She sorted through it all, because she knew there had to be some truth, or at least something that would spark her to find the way to the upper floors.
Finally, one day, she thought she had struck gold when she found a box of old picture albums. They were mostly empty at the time, but Lena reasoned they might work like the library books, and so secreted them off to her room, where she inspected all of the pictures very closely. Some were of people she didn’t recognize. Some she did.
There were pictures of her mother as a girl. She knew they were her mother, because she had seen that face in starkly clean hotel mirrors every day when she was young. The pictures were old and slightly yellowed, but still in very good condition. She apparently liked wearing dresses then, too. The Waldgrave house hadn’t changed much, unless the pictures lied—her mother, next to the koi pond, in front of the house, entertaining at a party, smiling in the garden… A span of several years of her life, and even a few photographs that seemed to foretell Lena’s future; pictures of her mother when she was late in her teens. The last photograph of her mother was when she looked to be very early in her twenties, at some sort of party. She was standing in the living room as a man, who appeared to be her date, attempted to hold her hand. While he appeared to be having a good time, Lena quickly recognized her mother’s forced smile. Not the one she had when she laughed, which was rare, but the one she had every time she talked to David.
The back of the photograph only bore three words: Avalon’s engagement party.
Lena flipped the photo back over, and carefully analyzed the man. She could only imagine that Ava must have broken the engagement at some point, because the man in the photo wasn’t her father. Curiosity urged her to ask Ava, but her better judgment told her the issue was too personal.
It wasn’t until she went back through the photos a second time that she noticed something odd. A cat, with short hair and overly large ears, appeared in most of them. It was a reddish brown color, with blue eyes. A family pet, maybe? While young Ava made a crown of daisies, the cat stood still as a stone carving, tense, staring into the camera. Where she stood in front of the house, the cat could be seen leaping down from the window behind her. And there—peeking from behind the door, going up the stairs, glowing eyes in the shadows of the distant trees. But the thing that bothered her wasn’t the cat itself, but rather the fact that it didn’t seem to have aged in any of the pictures. However, Lena had never owned a cat, and
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