“I know, baby,” I told him. “I don’t like it either. But I have to do laundry.”
I put off laundry days until it was absolutely necessary, but with the late-spring heat settling over the city with its full force now, nothing could be worn twice.
“I don’twantto go in the basement!” Henry whined, tugging my hand, trying to pull me away.
I blinked at him in disbelief. “Excuse me?” I cautioned. “You don’t take that tone with me, young man.”
“I’m not going!” He yanked again, harder, the force of it sending me stumbling.
“Henry!” I cried, dropping the laundry basket to catch myself. “What’s wrong with you?”
He broke down completely then, sobbing loudly, his head thrown back, his mouth wide open as he wailed, “No! No! No! No!”
I knelt in front of him and held his arms. “Stop it, Henry,” I said as calmly as possible. “I need you to stop crying and use your words. Baby, please—”
“Can I be of assistance, honey?”
Iris stood just a few feet away. Henry was crying so loudly, I hadn’t noticed her approach.
“It’s okay,” I told her, sitting down on the floor and pulling Henry into my lap, rocking him a little to quiet him. “He’s scared of the basement. I’m so sorry. He never has tantrums like this.”
Iris gave me a sympathetic smile. “No problem, honey. We all have rough days. Isn’t that right, Henry?”
Henry sniffed, took a shaky breath, and nodded.
“Why don’t you let him come sit with me for a spell?” Iris offered. Before I could respond, she extended her hand to him. “Would you like to come sit with me at my desk, sweetheart?”
He nodded and launched himself from my lap, taking her hand then turning back, giving me a guilty look as if realizing he should’ve asked first.
“It’s okay,” I said with an exhausted sigh. “Go ahead with Ms. Iris this time.” I got to my feet. “Thank you, Iris.”
“Of course,” she said, waving away my gratitude. “We all need a hand now and then, especially someone like you without anyone else to help her. You go on and tend to your laundry. We’ll be up front when you’re finished.”
I watched them walk down the hall, grateful and unsettled at once. I hadn’t missed her pointed reminder that I had no one but the Dawes House “family.” Maybe they had forgiven me for the call about Kitty. Or maybe this was yet another way of reminding me to stay in line. Because I needed them.
I lifted my laundry basket again and turned to face the basement stairs, my mouth going dry. The first step creaked ominously as I started down.
As soon as I reached the bottom of the steps, I fumbled in the darkness for the light switch on the wall, heart kicking against my ribs. Finding it, I flipped on the lights to the main hallway that led to the laundry room, relieved when most of the bulbs instantly blazed to life, only one flickering a few times before finally joining the others. These were the big floodlights that people put on their houses that came on whenever they detected motion and then would shut off after a while, making it a race against time to reach the laundry room before being plunged into darkness once more.
I waved my hand in front of the sensor again to give myself more time—the damned things never stayed on long—and hurried forward, trying to keep my mind from imagining anything down there with me. But almost immediately the hairs on the back of my neck rose and my skin tingled with the undeniable sense that I wasn’t alone.
I stepped into the laundry room just as the hallway lights clicked off, plunging me into darkness. My panic spiked hard. I waved my hand wildly, activating the laundry room sensor.
Not wasting a second, I went to one of the washing machines and began sorting the clothes. When I glanced over my shoulder to the doorway, the light blinked out. My gut twisted with fear.
“Damn it!” I muttered, waving my hand across the sensor, reactivating it, then turning back to my laundry. “I hate this freaking basement.”
Seconds later, the lights turned off again.
“Shit!” I cried, more irritated than frightened this time. With a huff, I waved my hand again, turning the light back on. “Screw this.”
I grabbed a couple of the small loads, and threw them in, hoping the colors were similar enough and the clothes old enough that they wouldn’t bleed and create a whole load of tie-dyed laundry for Henry and me.
I was just adding the detergent when the lights went off a third time.
“Are you freaking kidding me?” I demanded, angrily waving my hand across the sensor.
The light flicked back on.
