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Despite Kandace’s older age, and her often seemingly indifferent attitude, Scarlett knew that deep down, Kandace was tender and kind. She’d been desperately looking for validation—attention and affection—and never receiving it from the one person who should have given it naturally: her mother.
It was no wonder she’d made the choices she had. It was no wonder she’d sought “love” in all the wrong places. It was no wonder she’d ended up at Lilith House, a reform school for wayward girls.
Even after Scarlett’s mother took a new position with a different family, she and Kandace kept in touch—even if months would pass between phone calls—until right before Kandace left for Lilith House. Lilith House where Kandace had eventually run away from, never to be seen again. Scarlett had known that Kandace had headed down a dangerous path, she’d known that Kandace was skating the razor’s edge of decisions that had consequences she’d never come back from. She’d hoped . . . along with Kandace’s mother, she was sure, that Lilith House would help put her back on the straight and narrow. Instead . . .
Scarlett’s eyes again went to the edge of the vast forest beyond. Where did you go? she wondered. Where are you now? They’d searched the woods. She wasn’t there. But being here made Scarlett feel somehow closer to the troubled girl who’d shared her heart with her, and few others.
“Tell me about Ruby Sugar.”
Scarlett smiled. Haddie knew about Ruby Sugar, the name Scarlett had chosen for her business, but like all of Haddie’s favorite stories, she liked to hear it being retold. “Kandace and I played a game where we were wedding designers. We used our names to create the company name. Ruby is another word for Scarlett, and sugar is the main ingredient in candy.” Or . . . Kandi.
Haddie smiled. “I like that, Mommy.”
Scarlett smiled back. She did too. Especially because when she’d seen the ad for Lilith House and recognized it as the school Kandace had been banished to, and then run away from, she’d gotten a feeling that was so strong, so absolute, that she’d picked up the phone before she even made a conscious decision to do so.
A sound caught her attention and she turned her head toward the wall where she thought it was coming from, listening intently. It sounded like . . . faraway screaming, the rising wail of human misery. Scarlett stilled, goosebumps rising on her skin. The noise subsided, but another one picked up. This time it sounded like crying—the very distant sobs of an infant.
“What in the world?” she whispered. “Haddie, do you hear that?”
Haddie looked up from her drawing. “What, Mommy?”
“It sounded like crying. It must have been the wind, but . . .” She shook her head, mustering a smile for her daughter. “Wow, kind of spooky the way a breeze sounds coming through these old walls, huh?”
“It’s just a memory, Mommy.”
Scarlett frowned. “What do you mean, Haddie? My memory?” Did Haddie think she was hearing things coming from her own mind?
“Lilith House’s memory.”
Those goosebumps rose higher. “What do you mean, baby?”
Haddie shrugged, focusing back on her drawing, humming softly.
Scarlett stared at her daughter for a moment, opening her mouth to demand that she explain her comment further, but Haddie seemed perfectly content and Scarlett didn’t want to push her child and potentially alarm her when there was really nothing to be alarmed about. Add that comment to the list of hundreds like it she’d heard from her over the years. She turned her head, staring out the window, mostly unseeing for another few minutes, attempting to warm from the chill that had settled under her skin as Haddie continued to draw. No more sounds came from the walls. Trees shifted outside, swaying gently. There was definitely a strong breeze. Finally, convinced she’d heard nothing more than wind rattling the rafters, she looked at her computer screen, rubbing at her eye as she tried to find the motivation to do some more work on the remodeling plans. She drummed her fingers on the table for a moment, instead opening a browser window and typing in the name of their new house. Several links popped up immediately. Thank you, Louis, for bringing Lilith House into the modern century.
She’d looked Lilith House up once before from their apartment in LA, but more so to view as many pictures of the interior as possible . . . to determine if it was right for what she had planned. In all honesty, part of her had been hoping it wouldn’t be. She’d come upon the sale so unexpectedly, and the idea that had almost immediately planted itself in her head felt far too ambitious . . . ill-advised . . . crazy, even. But also . . . right. She’d never been particularly impulsive, and when she had been, she’d usually ended up regretting it in at least some way or another. But the more she’d clicked through the available pictures, traveling remotely from room to room then each outdoor space, the more her excitement level doubled, tripled, soared. It was as though someone was quietly, but urgently, nudging her along.
