She blinked against the light from the lamp next to her as she tried to make sense of where she was.A chair in the parlor.And she was sitting at an odd angle.Apparently fighting the demons of her dream had translated into actual movement while she slept.The pounding in her head matched the rhythm of her heartbeat and demanded she find immediate relief for the monstrous headache.
She stretched gingerly, and paper crinkled beneath her bare feet.Mum’s libretto lay scattered on the floor, like she’d fallen asleep reading and it had slipped from her lap.Strange.Hadn’t she read it while eating supper at the kitchen table?She didn’t remember coming tothe parlor to finish.In fact, she distinctly remembered checking all the windows and doors before going upstairs to put it away.
Unease wound through her.It had been a nightmare, hadn’t it?Something about Winston and her bedroom?She massaged her throbbing temple to abate the headache so she could think.Bits and pieces floated to the surface.The woman in mourning garb—Ursula.Winston attacking her.Their threats and search for Mum.No, for Katherine ...who was also Mum?Then there was her head being slammed and the sweet-smelling handkerchief.
Had she been drugged?But then, why was she in her chair like she’d never made it upstairs to begin with?Surely Winston and Ursula hadn’t drugged her, carried her downstairs, propped her up in a chair, and given her the libretto to read.Winston was more likely to cut out her eye and leave her for dead.Did that mean the attackhadbeen a dream?It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility, especially given her reaction toOlivetteand then her recounting of the kidnapping.It probably hadn’t been wise to read Mum’s libretto, given how tied it was to Nora’s past.
But she did go upstairs for bed.She was sure of it.So was last night a dream or real?
She needed evidence or her mind would pace around the question all night.Even if they’d staged her sleeping in the chair for some reason, they would’ve had to leave a sign of their presence.She collected the pages of the libretto and set them aside, then began her rounds, including a stop for headache powder.Both doors were locked, as well as most of the windows.But all it took was one to give Winston entrance.Nora’s hand trembled as she touched the sash lock that, although twisted, had missed the notch.Even the nail board she kept beneath the window was somewhat askew.Someone could have easily climbed in or out and shut the window behind them.
Or she could have missed the window during her earlier checks.
After all, they had cracked the window when Flossie complained about the lingering sardine stench.Lydia closed it as she left for lunchwith Abraham, but Nora hadn’t double-checked she’d done a good job of it.So was this her fault or the work of Winston and Ursula?
After locking it tight and checking all the windows and doors again, Nora took the libretto to her room.Not a dust mote stood out of place, from what she could tell, but just standing in the room churned her stomach.She’d been facing her shelves when Winston’s arms wrapped around her and she dropped the libretto.It was there, on the floor amongst those scattered pages, that he’d pinned her and suffocated her with that handkerchief ...just as he’d done when she was eleven.Dream or reality, she couldn’t sleep in here tonight.
She grabbed her knitting needles and the loaded gun from her nightstand, then shut the door on the feel of evil in the room.She should search for the officer who patrolled their area, but it was after three and far from a safe time for a woman to be alone on the streets.Abraham would attend church tomorrow.She could ask him to use his detective skills to sort out whether or not someone had been in her house.But would he think her crazy if he found nothing?
Perhaps the safest and sanest course of action was to set more traps.She and the Guardians had talked about doing it, knowing she’d be alone for at least two more nights, but then they’d been distracted.The traps were only meant to test Lydia’s plots, but they’d come in handy more than once.Tonight, Nora would set them all up, then pray it was a dream.Because if Winston and Ursula were real, her whole family was in danger.
Chapter Fourteen
NORA STOLE SNATCHES OF SLEEPon the couch downstairs but never fully rested.The shadows of last night’s troubles pressed too heavily upon her.While preparing for church in the morning, she examined herself for signs of attack, but the bruising she found could easily be caused by her slip down the steps with the trunk.The Jerdens were her last hope for evidence that she hadn’t dreamed it all.However, when she knocked on their door, they answered still in their coats and with a carpetbag at their feet.They’d only just returned home from a visit with their daughter in Indianapolis.She was no closer to knowing if she’d imagined the attack or not.
Sleep called for her to hide from the uncertainty, but nothing would keep her from finally singing with the rest of the congregation.Today was to be her first, and likely only, Sunday without Father’s restrictive rules on a late arrival and early exit.The sheer joy at the opportunity shoved last night’s troubles aside and felt sinful for its magnitude.May God forgive her if it was dishonorable to break Father’s rules so she could sing without reserve.
Arriving so early not even the choir or pastor milled about proved she might have been a littletooeager.When she entered the sanctuary, only a handful of people dotted the pews.Most were elderly ladies bent in prayer with scarves covering their heads.It was a dying practice in their church, but Nora always appreciated the humble beauty of a head covering.Given how bright her own hair was,maybe it would be a blessing to others if she hid it beneath one of her own.Mum had some beautiful pieces Nora could pilfer from the opera trunk, but Father would object and deem them unnecessary.
Nora tapped a finger on the arm of their usual pew but didn’t enter.Father wasn’t here to make her arrive late or leave early, nor was he here to force her to sit in the back.Lydia and Abraham would sit closer to the front, but should she?Could she focus with her back exposed to anyone behind her?She wasn’t vain by any stretch of the imagination, but she didn’t relish the idea that Winston or Ursula could watch her without her knowledge.However, with Abraham in her pew, they couldn’t harm her.
Stop it.You likely dreamed them up.Behaving as if they are real only makes you as insane as Mum.
Nora winced.Mum wasn’t insane.She was confused and needed help, no matter what Dr.Chalfant said.To believe anything else meant Nora could be following Mum’s descent into madness.
You are not going mad.You are tired and have stirred up memories you’d rather forget.Sit with Lydia and Abraham.You are here to worship, not worry.This is your only free Sunday.Do not waste it on silly imaginary fears.
With courage bolstered, she strode to the Pelton family’s usual pew—second from the front, directly in front of the pulpit—and took a seat.She pulled a green clothbound hymnal with gold lettering from its place in the narrow bookrack and ran her thumb over its cover.The rough texture sent a thrill of excitement through her, and she flipped through the pages, drinking in the words and notation of songs she’d not heard more than a few bars of, if at all.She was fairly good at sight-reading.Even when she didn’t have the music before her to read, she’d always been good at predicting the next note based on the ones preceding it.Music was full of patterns and communicated so much without a word ever spoken.One day music would fill her life again, not just in stolen moments.
The organist practiced, and Nora closed her eyes, feeling each note as it reverberated through the room.Oh, how she needed this chanceto rest in the beauty of God’s musical creation.Soon she would pour her soul out to the Lord and, in return, have it filled to overflowing with the peace and wholeness she’d missed for so long.She breathed deeply and lifted her head in her own private reverie.
Unease intruded upon her riotous joy and crawled its way up her spine, as unwelcome and unnerving as a spider upon her skin.No, she would not cave to paranoia.She slipped her hand into her pocket and clutched the knitting needles there.As long as she had these, she’d be safe.Still, it wouldn’t hurt to check her surroundings.Perhaps it would even calm her nerves.More people had arrived, and the hum of voices in the foyer indicated the sanctuary would soon fill.She nodded at one of the elderly ladies whose eye she’d caught, but it wasn’t her who’d caused the unsettling sensation.
It’s all in your head.You need to stop this nonsense.
Even as she chided herself, her gaze snagged on Winston’s in the back row.Or was it the man from the opera, that Adler fellow?Her mind knotted around the multiple possibilities and their implications.He could be the Winston of her family’s past and be real, having finally found them after so many years of hiding.Or he could be a hallucination.Proof that she was losing her mind.Or he could even be Mr.Adler—an innocent parishioner simply come for services before the opera company moved on.Or Mr.Adler could be the real Winston, just with a new name.After all, her family had changed names without it ever being questioned.How was she to untangle the knot and figure out which possibility was right?
A wicked smile that shouldn’t be possible in a church twisted Winston’s lips, like he dared her to acknowledge his presence publicly.Did that make him a hallucination or a real man?
This was ridiculous.She should get up and talk to him to prove which of the four possibilities he was.Of course, if she started talking to someone who wasn’t there, the congregation might drive her out as demon-possessed, or maybe they’d simply lock her in a room and call for an exorcism.Wouldn’t that make a fine scene?But she wasin a public place, which meant if he was a man of flesh and blood, others would interact with him at some point.They’d speak to him or awkwardly scoot past him in the row to reach their seat.It made for a safer test of her sanity, and she intended to watch him until she proved to herself she wasn’t imagining him.
Of course, if he was real, so were his threats.
Nora shivered but didn’t take her eyes from him.He seemed to understand her purpose and stretched his arms across the backrest, waiting for her to come to her own conclusions.She only needed one person to speak to him.One person to struggle to slip past him.
“Ahhh!I’m so excited you’re sitting with us today!”Lydia rushed into Nora’s pew.
Her hug forced Nora to lose sight of Winston.When finally released, Nora glanced back to continue her vigilant watch, but he was gone.She scanned up and down the row and even raised onto the tips of her toes to see if he’d ducked low.It didn’t help her see, only garnered a quizzical look from Lydia.The tightness in Nora’s chest confirmed her fears, even if her mind refused to admit it.Paranoia was digging its claws into her, exactly like it had with Mum.
