She was unaware. Truly. I wasn’t sure why I’d been walking through life assuming I was the only one clueless, or the only one bothered by it… I needed to talk to Amaryllis. I wished I could talk to Mother. With her tied up, held at a distance and forced to answer my questions, anyway. That was about the only way I was willing to communicate with that wench.
And I couldn’t speak with Father now. Or Charlie. The Lewis clan was dwindling, but the delusion remained strong. I just didn’t understand if it was mine or theirs.
Then, before I knew it, the car was stopping, Connor and Theo were climbing out, Connor’s hand wrapped around Margaret’s bicep after opening her door, and Theo’s touch landed on my back when I scrambled out after her. His thumb stroked my spine, subtle, just for us, before we separated and met the others by the front door of what looked to be a pretty substantial house.
“Well, here we are,” Connor said, pushing open the door, sighing as he watched Theo walk Margaret over the threshold, his grip on her shoulder firm; no one was risking this flighty girl’s escape. She glared at me as she passed before Connor caught my eye and gave me a weary smile. He looked exhausted, with bags under his eyes and pale, clammy skin. He scrubbed his hand through his messy hair as he encouraged me to step in next.
“Thank you,” I told him in a whisper, and he patted my shoulder, nodding his head.
“Don’t mention it,” he muttered before turning to lock up. Multiple locks and a coded pad that took him a minute to complete. I watched him, attempting to learn the pattern, memorize the numbers I couldn’t see him press. Theo was too busy talking low to Margaret, trying to get her to see reason, I guessed. But one of us needed to be aware. I refused to not know my way out again.
“Is this place yours?” I asked Connor. We all stood in the sizeable foyer, with doors leading off in all directions, and a wide staircase in front of us. I had paid little attention coming in. It was on the edge of a town, that much I knew, but otherwise, I’d been too focused on my sisters, my brother, on what would happen next.
Connor grunted. “Safe house. My… organization keeps it.” He was never one for long speeches.
“Organization?” I asked.
Theo looked up from Margaret. “Good luck getting any information out of him,” he said, dropping his grip on Margaret. He shot her a warning glare, and she scowled back, but didn’t move. “I’ve been working for him for years and know pretty much jack shit.”
Footsteps sounded on the top of the stairs, and we all looked up as one, hackles raised. Theo’s hand darted to the gun in his back pocket. But calm soon washed over us all. Amaryllis,Amy, stood there, her toes curling into the carpet, her wide eyes not sure where to look. A wild mixture of emotions flashed across her face. Relief to see me and Theo, a dip of her brow when her eyes landed on Margaret, and something I couldn’t recognize when her gaze locked with Connor.
“Hi,” she said, and with her bounding down the stairs, we were reunited. Brief hugs for everyone followed, even Margaret, who grunted and pushed her older sister away. Amy took it in her stride and grabbed my hand, pulling me further into the house. She seemed different. There was fire behind her eyes,life.She wasn’t dead-eyed like Margaret.
Like with Margaret, Amy and I had never had the chance to be close. She was the middle child, only ten months younger than me, creeping up to eighteen herself now. She was softer than Margaret, always had been, but still stiff, still distant with me. I always wondered if our mother had poisoned their opinions of me, broken any relationship we might form with toxic words and lies.
For the briefest of moments, the surviving four Lewis children were alone together, Connor moving first out of the hall. We didn’t let it last.
We made our way into the kitchen where Connor had gone, and Theo came up beside me, resting his hand right above the curve of my bum, at the very base of my spine. His touch warmed me, the almost inappropriate placement making me want to sink into him further. I needed him, his warmth, and his sturdiness. But we had to hide again now that there were eyes on us.
Margaret stood against the furthest wall, her arms crossed, her signature scowl pasted onto her face as she watched Amy buzz through the kitchen.
“I’m making Connor some coffee if anyone else wants?” Amy asked, on edge as she pulled things from the cupboard. “I have tea, too. Or hot chocolate? Anyone for hot chocolate?” She whirled around to face us, her kind, still baby-fat round face tense. She had no idea what to do.
“Hey,” Connor said, reaching out to soothe her, before pulling back, grabbing the package of tea bags instead. Amy smiled at him. “Let’s all have tea and then crash for a few hours. We can figure out our next move after.”
“Actually,” I spoke up, “I want to talk to my sisters first.”
Everyone looked at me. Only Margaret bristled. Amy’s shoulders relaxed, her eyes widening in intrigue, open and innocent. Scared, maybe.
“I don’t think I can rest until we’ve cleared the air.”
Connor nodded, his jaw tensing. “Tea first, then you guys can hash it out.”
Amy turned to grab the kettle, and while no one was paying us any attention, Theo pressed a soft kiss to the top of my head.
But I needed to do this without him. Just us sisters.
Margaret glared, Amy frowned, and I paced in front of them. Connor had directed us to the room he’d decided would be mine, and they were sitting on the bed, side by side, the windows drawn and the only light the yellow shine from the bedside lamp. This felt like a conversation to have shrouded in shadow.
“I don’t know if we’ve ever been alone together,” I realized, stopping in front of them, my mind racing to pick out a single moment in our lives we hadn’t been supervised in some way. No, this was it. “I don’t think there’s been a time in our entire lives when Mother let us be together, the three of us, without her or one of the nannies.”
Amy’s mouth dipped down further, her gaze lowered. “You were always kept with the boys, then alone, I think.” She was picking at the skin around her fingernails, looking small, childlike.
“There was once,” Margaret interrupted. “Mother and Father had an engagement at the house, and the nanny fetched you for a few hours. We were together then. They left us locked in the nursery.”
“How do you remember that when I don’t?” I asked, wracking my brain. Not that it mattered. If I didn’t recall it, it’d had no impact on my upbringing. But I couldn’t help but think that just once, if we’d had just one time, this would never have happened. We would know each other. I had no memory of this ever happening.
Margaret shrugged. “It was insignificant, I suppose. But I remember being in awe of you, so grown up. You played with my dollhouse with me then left as suddenly as you’d arrived.”
