Page 267 of Secrets Hidden In The Glass

Chapter Forty-Eight

Callie clutched the dark-blue covers and pointed her toes as she slid down the side of the big bed. Her feet finally touched the floor, and she reached up, grabbing Emily Dolly by her soft yarn hair. Cuddling Emily Dolly close, she moved to the railing, holding on to the wooden slats as she stared at Mommy lying down in her new red dress. “Mommy,” she whispered, frowning when her voice echoed. She walked downstairs, taking each creaky step one at a time, waiting for Mommy to stand up and smile. Hurrying to where Mommy lay sleeping on the floor, Callie studied the bruise on the side of Mommy’s pretty face and the slow trickle of blood dripping into her long blond hair. “You have a boo-boo?” she asked, her voice hollow and echoing again. She looked across the room toward the screen door open to the dark and crawled on top of Mommy, resting her head on her chest while her eyes traced the floral patterns on the rug. An owl hooted outside and crickets sang their song, but Mommy’s heart didn’t thump in Callie’s ear the way it usually did. She waited for Mommy to reach up and slide her fingers through her hair and sing “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star,” but Mommy slept instead.

There was a noise outside—a door slamming somewhere in the distance. Gasping, Callie scrambled to her feet and looked at Mommy, then ran back upstairs, hiding in the corner and squeezing her eyes shut when she heard a voice—

“Callie,” Nate called, touching her arm.

She sat up, screaming in the dark, and rushed out of bed, her breath heaving as she stared at Nate.

“Easy.” He held up his hands as if he were under arrest. “Take it easy.”

She blinked, still torn between the past and present, and collapsed onto the side of the mattress as her heart hammered in her chest and throbbed in her head. “Oh, God, Nate.”

He scooted over to her side. “I’m right here.”

“I saw her. I saw my mother.” She rushed to her feet again, suddenly hot, still able to see the image of Samantha Fletcher so clearly. “I waited for her to run her fingers through my hair but she didn’t because she was dead.” She hurried into the bathroom as her stomach roiled, certain she was going to vomit.

Nate followed, turning on the dim light over the bathtub. “Jesus, Callie, you’re ghost white.” He turned on the faucet. “Sit down and breathe before you pass out on me.”

She slid down the wall to the cool tile, fighting for each breath, as the room started spinning. “I left her.” Trying to stand again, she sat quickly when her legs gave out and she shook uncontrollably. “I ran upstairs when the shadow man came.”

Nate crouched down in front of her, settling a cool cloth on the back of her neck. “Take some deep breaths.”

She shook her head as tears rolled down her cheeks. “She was dead in the cottage.”

He sat next to her, taking her hand, rubbing her knuckles. “All right. Just keep breathing for me.”

“I remember the rug. I stared at the rug.”

“The same one you drew?”

She nodded. “She sang to me.” A swift wave of grief nearly swallowed her up, and she started sobbing. “‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.’ She sang songs to me, Nate.”

He lifted her onto his lap and wrapped his arms around her, rocking her. “Okay.”

“I ran away from her,” she fought to say.

“Because you saw the shadow man?”

She shook her head. “I knew he was coming.”

He wrapped her up tighter, kissing her. “You’re safe here with me. You’re safe.”

She held on, clinging, squeezing her eyes shut, still seeing her dead mother lying on the floor. “I don’t want to know. I don’t want to remember anymore. I don’t want to remember.”

“Everything’s going to be okay. We’re going to make it okay.”

She cried harder, not sure she would ever be able to stop.

~~~~

Nate gripped Callie’s hand in the dark, watching her sleeping in their bed while Winston lay close by his side. After the turbulent last couple of hours, everyone was a little shaken up. “You think she’ll be okay?” he asked Matthew.

“The sedative I gave her should keep her resting comfortably for the rest of the night.”

“What about tomorrow?” He tore his gaze away from Callie, looking at Matthew sitting in the play of shadows on the armchair across the room. “How do I help her when she wakes up? She’s devastated.”

Matthew sighed. “Callie suffered a horrible trauma. Clearly, she witnessed the aftermath of her mother’s death—possibly more.”