What Whit’s reaction to our news lacked in exuberance was made up for by the others at Dawes House. Henry was overjoyed and talked a mile a minute, planning all kinds of adventures for him and his new sibling, finally determining that they would either be astronauts or pirates, but only after they were inat leastthird grade.
There were hugs all around and lots of congratulations from the Dawes House residents—Ms. Netty was positively giddy, instantly looking a decade younger in her excitement. I could see a hint of the young woman she’d once been, the young woman in my dream.
“Well done,” Ms. Pearlie said, taking Whit’s face in her hands and beaming with pride. She patted his cheek. “Well done.”
“Guess you took my advice,” Merilee said with a sly wink. She then shared a meaningful look with Chase, some message I didn’t understand clearly passing between them in a single glance.
That night, I ran my fingers through Whit’s hair as he lay with his head on my lap. “What is it you wanted to tell me?”
He took my hand and pressed a kiss to my palm. “It’ll keep until morning.”
I don’t know how long we’d been asleep when I jerked awake, every sense on alert. At first, I didn’t know what my subconscious had picked up on, but then I heard it—a strange scratching sound coming from Henry’s room.
“I hear it too.”
I started at the sound of Whit’s voice but was glad he was with me when I went to check on Henry. A jolt of panic stabbed me in the chest, causing my heart to seize painfully when I entered Henry’s room and saw his bed was empty.
I nearly called out to him but then saw a thin sliver of light seeping out from below his closet door. I heaved a sigh of relief and pulled the closet door open to see Henry sitting at the desk, scribbling furiously.
“Henry?” I said softly. “What are you doing, baby? You shouldn’t be up. You have school tomorrow.”
“I’m drawing you and Daddy a picture,” he said in a strange monotone, not looking up from his drawing.
“That’s awesome,” Whit replied, slipping by me into the closet to crouch down next to Henry. “But you need your sleep, buddy.” He gently took the crayon from Henry’s fingers and set it aside then lifted him into his arms. “Come on. Let’s get you back to bed.”
As Whit tucked Henry back into his bed, I picked up his picture from the little desk, my blood turning to ice water in my veins when I saw what he had drawn. There were three stick figures—a dark-haired man, a brown-haired pregnant woman with red scribbles across her belly, and a little boy with dark curly hair lying on the ground at the mother’s feet, a puddle of blood beside him.
My hand went to my mouth as I raced to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet.
“Zellie!” Whit cried, rushing in to steady me as my stomach heaved again. “I’ve got you, baby. It’s okay.”
I shook my head, a single sob escaping before I could stop it. “It’s not okay, Whit. His drawing…”
My stomach heaved again.
“I’ve got you,” he said, gently rubbing my back with one hand, holding my hair for me. And when I was able to breathe through the nausea and sit on the floor, he grabbed a washcloth and ran it under the faucet before sitting down on the floor beside me.
I leaned against him while he held the cool cloth to my forehead.
When my stomach finally settled, I let him help me to my feet. “Come with me,” I croaked out. “I need to you to see what Henry drew. I need you to understand how serious this is.”
His face was solemn, concerned, as he nodded. “Okay.”
I led him back into Henry’s room and picked up the paper where I’d dropped it in my haste.
“What the fuck?” Whit breathed. “I thought you said this was over…”
I glanced at where Henry was sleeping peacefully and motioned for Whit to follow me. “I thought it was,” I told him when we were in the living room. “I don’t know where this is coming from. But it scares the shit out of me, Whit! Henry…he sometimes sees things…visions. Just like me. Just like my mother, I think.”
“And you think this—” he waved the paper for emphasis “—is a vision?”
“I don’t know,” I told him sincerely. “It could just be a nightmare. But I can’t take it anymore, Whit. I thought it would be fine. It had been so quiet for a while. But we can’t stay here. Please!”
“What about Henry’s school?” he asked. “You said you didn’t want to disrupt his routine.”
I groaned, frustrated—mostly at myself for not leaving sooner when Whit had first offered, for trusting the lull in activity, for letting myself become too comfortable at Dawes House. “Then we can go live in a hotel for a couple of weeks while we find another place nearby. Or offer to drive him every day. Or something. I don’t know, Whit!”
Whit gave a curt nod, his jaw set. “Okay. I’ll make arrangements first thing in the morning and then we’ll figure out what we want to do after that. The most important thing is that you and Henry and the baby are safe. That’s all I want, Zellie. I’ll do whatever I have to do to keep you safe.”
