“Sam,” Scott said, touching her arm. “Should I go on? If you and Nicole don’t want to…?”
“Yes,” Sam gasped. “Tell her.”
Scott straightened, assuming what Tabby considered his ‘bank manager’ position. But she couldn’t make fun of him; the determined calm in his dark brown eyes was too chilling.
“Tabby, maybe you should sit down?”
“Just spit it out,” she said, but she dropped her ass back into her chair as instructed.
Scott inhaled just like Nicole had done. “When your mother left, she tried to take you with her.”
A sensation like freezing water rushed through Tabby’s ears, into her mouth, and down her throat. “Huh?”
“When your mother left, she tried to take you with her,” Scott repeated with that same tight composure as Nix and Sam sobbed in earnest.
“But I didn’t…” Tabby began. “I couldn’t have…”
“From how I understand it, for weeks after your mother was gone, you were very confused and wouldn’t talk. And when you did, you made up stories about things your mother said or where she went. Edgar thought it was a normal part of the grieving process, and Samantha and Nicole took their cues from him, but as you began to relax, Sam noticed you were telling one story repeatedly. Your mother told you many times that if she ever ‘went away,’ you would have to dress yourself and wait by the back gate as soon as you woke up the next day.”
Something tugged at Tabby’s memory, rising like a monster from primordial ooze.
… Put on your gummy boots and come right away…
…don’t tell the twins, Babby…
The dirty, ice-cold water flooded her veins, throat, and heart. She heard herself speak as though she was a stranger. “She… she called me ‘Babby.’”
Sam let out a noise between a gasp and a howl and even Scott’s stoic expression flickered.
“Babby-Tabby,” Nix whispered, sounding ten days into a nasty bout of pneumonia. “You remember her talking to you?”
“I…” A pair of big blue eyes swam before Tabby, but no sooner did she comprehend them than the memory sank back into the brownish mud. “Dunno. It doesn’t matter. So, Mum tried to abduct me, huh?”
No one smiled.
I need to get out of here.
The thought came as clearly as if her mind had been repeating it for days.
“Samantha wasn’t sure how serious you were,” Scott said, resuming the story. “She talked to Edgar, and he agreed it was troubling. So, your father took you to see a child psychologist…”
…White and silver tables. Big smiles. Coloured blocks...
“And the psychologist established that your mother had coached you to come looking for her if she ever ‘went away.’ And she seemed to have confided a lot of her worries in you as well…”
… so hard to be here, Babby…
“… the psychologist also asked Edgar to look for your pink and blue backpack…”
Tabby saw a burst of brown beak. Small flappy wings. “It had an owl on it.”
Nix and Sam jolted like they’d been electrocuted.
“Yes,” Sam whispered. “We couldn’t find it after she left, and we thought…”
“… she took it with her,” Nix said through her fingers. “But she didn’t. It was under the side bit of the porch with your clothes and a drink bottle and colouring books in it.”
The ground beneath Tabby was rising and flipping over as though she was on a roller coaster. She thought telling people to sit down when they got bad news was a cliché, but she understood it now. Unsure what else to do, she raised the wine to her lips and drank. Everyone was watching, but no one stopped her.
