around them?
But Essie put her hands on Phoebe’s shoulders. “It’s nothing. We’re safe, we’re all safe. That’s everything. Oh God, Phoebe, I’m so sorry.”
“Not you. Not you.” Tears spilled again as Essie brushed kisses over the bruise on Phoebe’s jaw. “Mama, it wasn’t your fault. Dave even said so.”
“I let Reuben into our lives. I opened the door to him. That much, at least, is my fault.” She stepped away to walk over, to lean over Carter and rest her cheek on his head. “God, God, if anything had happened to you, to either of you, I don’t know what I’d do. You got him out,” she murmured. “You got Carter out of the house. It’s more than I did.”
“No, Mama—”
“I’ll never look at you quite the same way again, Phoebe.” Essie straightened. “I’ll always look at you and see my little girl, my own baby girl, but now, every time I look at you, I’ll see a hero.”
“You beat him down to the floor,” Phoebe reminded her. “I guess you’re a hero, too.”
“Maybe at the end of it. Well, I hate to wake him up, but I don’t want to stay in this hospital anymore.”
“Can we go home now?”
Essie brushed a hand over Carter’s hair, faced her daughter again. “We’re never going back there. I never want to go inside that place again. I’m sorry. I’d never feel safe.”
“But where can we go?”
“We’re going to stay with Cousin Bess. I called her, and she said we’re to come.”
“To the big house?” The idea of it had Phoebe’s eyes opening wide. “But you and Cousin Bess don’t hardly speak. You don’t even like her.”
“This morning, she’s my favorite person in the world, save you and Carter. And we’re going to be grateful to her, Phoebe, for opening her home to us when we need it.”
“She didn’t open it to us when Daddy died, or when—”
“Now she is.” Essie snapped out the words. “And we’re grateful to her. It’s what we have to do.”
“For now?”
“It’s what we have to do,” Essie repeated.
They rode to Cousin Bess’s in a police car while Carter wolfed down the cold burger and fries, gulped down the Coke. They circled the park with the fountain sparkling in the air. The grand old house was rosy brick and soft white trim; it was lush with green lawn and tended flowers and draping trees.
It was a world away from the tiny shotgun house where Phoebe had lived for more than eight of her twelve years.
She noted her mother’s back was poker straight as they climbed up the stone steps to the front door, so she stiffened hers as well.
Mama rang the bell like company would, rather than family. The woman who answered the door was young and bright and beautiful. She made Phoebe think of a movie star with her golden fall of hair and slender build.
There was sympathy on her face as she held out her hands to Essie. “Mrs. Mac Namara, I’m Ava Vestry, Ms. Mac Namara’s personal assistant. Come in, come in. Your rooms are all ready for you. You must be exhausted, so I’ll take you right up. Or if you’d rather have some breakfast, or some tea?”
“They don’t need anyone fussing over them.”
Cousin Bess made the announcement from the curve of the grand stairs. She stood, dressed in a crow-black dress, her thin face pinched with disapproval. Her hair was as gray as a Brillo pad with odd wings of black at either temple.
Now, as always, the first glimpse of her father’s cousin made Phoebe think of the mean Almira Gulch, come to stuff Toto in her basket.
Wicked old witch.
“Thank you for taking us in, Cousin Bess,” Mama said in the same quiet voice she’d used when Reuben had a gun to her head.
“Doesn’t surprise me you got yourself into a mess. The three of you are to wash, thoroughly, before you sit at my table or lie on my sheets.”
“I’ll see to it, Ms. Mac Namara.” Ava turned her beautiful, compassionate smile onto Phoebe, then Carter. “Maybe the children are hungry. Maybe after
But Essie put her hands on Phoebe’s shoulders. “It’s nothing. We’re safe, we’re all safe. That’s everything. Oh God, Phoebe, I’m so sorry.”
“Not you. Not you.” Tears spilled again as Essie brushed kisses over the bruise on Phoebe’s jaw. “Mama, it wasn’t your fault. Dave even said so.”
“I let Reuben into our lives. I opened the door to him. That much, at least, is my fault.” She stepped away to walk over, to lean over Carter and rest her cheek on his head. “God, God, if anything had happened to you, to either of you, I don’t know what I’d do. You got him out,” she murmured. “You got Carter out of the house. It’s more than I did.”
“No, Mama—”
“I’ll never look at you quite the same way again, Phoebe.” Essie straightened. “I’ll always look at you and see my little girl, my own baby girl, but now, every time I look at you, I’ll see a hero.”
“You beat him down to the floor,” Phoebe reminded her. “I guess you’re a hero, too.”
“Maybe at the end of it. Well, I hate to wake him up, but I don’t want to stay in this hospital anymore.”
“Can we go home now?”
Essie brushed a hand over Carter’s hair, faced her daughter again. “We’re never going back there. I never want to go inside that place again. I’m sorry. I’d never feel safe.”
“But where can we go?”
“We’re going to stay with Cousin Bess. I called her, and she said we’re to come.”
“To the big house?” The idea of it had Phoebe’s eyes opening wide. “But you and Cousin Bess don’t hardly speak. You don’t even like her.”
“This morning, she’s my favorite person in the world, save you and Carter. And we’re going to be grateful to her, Phoebe, for opening her home to us when we need it.”
“She didn’t open it to us when Daddy died, or when—”
“Now she is.” Essie snapped out the words. “And we’re grateful to her. It’s what we have to do.”
“For now?”
“It’s what we have to do,” Essie repeated.
They rode to Cousin Bess’s in a police car while Carter wolfed down the cold burger and fries, gulped down the Coke. They circled the park with the fountain sparkling in the air. The grand old house was rosy brick and soft white trim; it was lush with green lawn and tended flowers and draping trees.
It was a world away from the tiny shotgun house where Phoebe had lived for more than eight of her twelve years.
She noted her mother’s back was poker straight as they climbed up the stone steps to the front door, so she stiffened hers as well.
Mama rang the bell like company would, rather than family. The woman who answered the door was young and bright and beautiful. She made Phoebe think of a movie star with her golden fall of hair and slender build.
There was sympathy on her face as she held out her hands to Essie. “Mrs. Mac Namara, I’m Ava Vestry, Ms. Mac Namara’s personal assistant. Come in, come in. Your rooms are all ready for you. You must be exhausted, so I’ll take you right up. Or if you’d rather have some breakfast, or some tea?”
“They don’t need anyone fussing over them.”
Cousin Bess made the announcement from the curve of the grand stairs. She stood, dressed in a crow-black dress, her thin face pinched with disapproval. Her hair was as gray as a Brillo pad with odd wings of black at either temple.
Now, as always, the first glimpse of her father’s cousin made Phoebe think of the mean Almira Gulch, come to stuff Toto in her basket.
Wicked old witch.
“Thank you for taking us in, Cousin Bess,” Mama said in the same quiet voice she’d used when Reuben had a gun to her head.
“Doesn’t surprise me you got yourself into a mess. The three of you are to wash, thoroughly, before you sit at my table or lie on my sheets.”
“I’ll see to it, Ms. Mac Namara.” Ava turned her beautiful, compassionate smile onto Phoebe, then Carter. “Maybe the children are hungry. Maybe after
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