She sounded so lost. When she was a child, I’d sometimes wondered if my ability to see things could be passed down to her. Butshe’d never shown any signs of it, and I wasn’t going to ask her now. I knew the answer.
Lisette wasn’t talking about not fitting in because she saw ghosts. She was talking about not fitting in, period. She had wanted to see her family, to find out if she fit in with us, because she was a teenager, not a so-called psychic.
“I know that feeling,” was all I could think to say. “I understand.”
“Aunt Dodie braided my hair,” she said. “She’s so pretty. Can I see her and Uncle Vail more when this is over? Can we visit them more often? Please?”
I did feel a bolt of fear then, cold and icy. Because I didn’t want to promise things to her that I couldn’t deliver. And Alice McMurtry had said that one of us wouldn’t leave this house.
“If it’s possible,” I hedged, “then I’ll make it happen. I’ll do everything I can.”
That seemed to mollify her, at least for the moment. She rolled over with her back to me, and with the resilience of the young, she fell asleep.
I didn’t sleep. I lay awake. This was my room, Sister’s room. Maybe Lisette would have been better off in our parents’ room after all. But Sister had appeared everywhere lately—downstairs when Vail hit her with a vase, then walking the upstairs hall in daylight. Screaming.
If I knew Sister—and I did—she hadn’t been screaming in fear. She was angry. The thought of my daughter here while Sister was angry made me sick. If Lisette had insisted on sleeping in my parents’ room, I would have gone with her. I wasn’t going to let her out of my sight.
When I was sure Lisette was sound asleep, I rolled over and put an arm around her. She slept on without stirring, so I moved closer and held her more tightly.
Sister would have to tear me to pieces if she wanted Lisette. And she was welcome to try.
—
“Mom?”
The voice was soft, but I woke up right away.
I didn’t know what time it was in the dark. Lisette had pushed up to one elbow, staring at something I couldn’t see.
“Did you hear that?” she whispered into the silence.
I strained, but I heard nothing. “No,” I whispered back.
Her body tensed against mine. “There it is again.”
I squeezed her, but she squirmed against me, trying to free herself from my grip. “Baby, no,” I said.
“It’s him!” She broke away from me easily. “It’s Ben, Mom! I found Ben!” She slipped from the bed and was gone.
I rolled out of my side of the bed. I didn’t see Sister’s familiar form or feel cold. The furniture wasn’t moving and the curtains weren’t juddering. I registered all of this as my feet hit the floor. “Lisette!”
There was no answer.
I slapped the light switch, but nothing happened. The darkness was thick, the air heavy with silence. My siblings didn’t make a sound.
“Lisette!” I called again.
In the bedroom doorway, I held my arms in front of me. How was it so dark? We’d kept lights on every night since we came back. Who had turned them off? Had the power gone out?
I shouted this time. “Lisette! Vail! Dodie!”
No answer.
I shuffled into the hall, my bare feet sliding with caution on the hardwood floor. I braced a hand on the wall and took a few steps. Where would Lisette have gone? To one of the other rooms? Downstairs? I heard no footsteps, and it made me frantic.
I opened my mouth to shout again, and something brushed my legs.
I flinched, but then I recognized the touch and the sound of small footsteps. A child had run past me, his body brushing the fabric of my pajama bottoms. Ben.
