Page 4 of A Violet Obsession

I shake my head hard as if it can silence them, as deep, aching pain splits my chest.

Hands shaking, I dial my mother’s number over and over.

The whispers are gone, and my hands feel normal again.

In fact, the whole house is silent.

It shouldn’t be a surprise, but the knock on the door still makes me jump up from where I’ve been sitting on the steps in the foyer. Waiting.

The sky is dark, but there’s enough light that I can make out Mrs. Markham’s familiar outline through the glass.

I swing the door open, feeling lightheaded.

Emma’s mom looks sick. Her face is pale and drawn, and the fingertips of one hand press so hard against the small cross that always hangs around her neck the edges blanche white.

For a moment, no one speaks.

“Lily. Honey.” Her voice breaks, and one of the police officers behind her steps around Pastor Rick to stand in front of me.

“Let’s go inside.”

3

LILY

10 years ago

Our house smells the same as it always does. I don’t know why I expected it to be different when we opened the door after the funeral today. I haven’t been back since Mrs. Markham came to tell me three days ago that my parents were dead. Killed by a drunk driver in the middle of the day.

I’ve been sharing Emma’s room ever since. When I’m there, it’s almost easy to pretend that nothing has happened and nothing has changed.

But everything has changed.

Yesterday, my mother’s older brother Scott Jenkins arrived. He’s my only living family, according to him and the social worker assigned to my case.

I used to be a daughter.

Now I’m a case.

I didn’t say anything when the social worker told me that my uncle—a man I’d met maybe three times in my life—was going to take care of me from now on. Her words sounded like an alien language. I wanted to scream and cry, and tell her it was crazy.

He’s a stranger. My dad didn’t even like him!

But my mouth wouldn’t work.

Emma’s did.

Immediately, she began ranting everything I was thinking but couldn’t say. Her mother started crying, and Mr. Markham was speaking so fast over his daughter that I was having a hard time following his words. Finally, the social worker interrupted loudly and explained that not only was Scott my only living relative, but that my mother had left a document requesting, should anything happen to her, I be raised by her brother.

As the fight swirled around me, I snuck a glance at my uncle. He’d never seemed interested in me before. I can’t think of a single time he said happy birthday, or I saw him on a holiday. As if he could feel my gaze, he turned to look at me with a blank expression and then checked his watch.

Scott agreed to let me stay with the Markhams until the funeral. Emma clung tightly to my hand the entire time Pastor Rick spoke, and I had the strange thought that without her grip anchoring me, I might run screaming through the double doors at the back.

Even Finn gave me a firm hug and a quiet, “I’m so sorry,” before he left with his dad. Finn doesn’t hug anyone voluntarily—ever. The fact that he hugged me made it real in a way nothing else had.

Mrs. Markham and the principal at the school where my parents worked put together a small reception at our house for after the service. Now, watching from the kitchen, it’s clear my uncle is ready for everyone to leave.

Our house.