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“Much worse,” she says darkly. “Do a lot of your patients end up dead?”
“Charlie!” Meredith hisses, but I wave her off.
“Charlie, have you ever heard of the Hippocratic oath?” I ask the girl, giving her all of my attention.
She stares at me very seriously and shakes her head.
“Well, the oath is to do no harm. So, I work very hard to make sure none of my patients die. I can’t always guarantee it, but I always try my best to keep them alive and keep them healthy. I promise you that I’m going to do everything I can to keep you alive and keep you safe, deal?”
She appraises me for a moment, then nods.
“So, you haven’t had any more seizures?” I ask her carefully.
She shakes her head and looks down as if she’s ashamed. It saddens me to see how traumatized the girl is. She’s so young to be experiencing so much shame from something she can’t control. I try to ask her a few leading questions about her past, but she completely shuts down. Even Daisy can’t cheer her up.
“Can I please go?” she asks, not looking at me, but at Meredith.
Though I can’t see her, Meredith must nod. Charlie gets up and runs up the stairs quickly. I stand up and look at Meredith, who’s clutching her arms as if it’s the only way she can keep herself from falling apart.
“She seems to be more accepting of your parental authority,” I tell Meredith.
“She likes it here,” Meredith confirms. “I think she’s trying to be on her best behavior so she doesn’t have to leave.”
I nod in understanding. Considering all the love and cheer Abigail has infused into this house, I hardly want to leave either. Though, curiously, I never felt that way before. It’s only been since Meredith and Charlie came to stay. No time to dwell on that feeling, though. I need more information to complete Charlie’s chart.
“Can we talk outside?” I ask Meredith. She nods.
We sit on the large swing hung on the front porch. Meredith is careful to sit as far away from me as she can get. Considering what I’ve observed over the last few days, I understand that she doesn’t like to be touched any more than Charlie does. It must be a family trait.
“I get that Charlie doesn’t like to be touched,” I say slowly. “If I could see people’s deaths when they touched me, I wouldn’t want to be either. But can you shed more light on why she’s so distrustful of people beyond that?”
Meredith takes a hesitant breath and shakes her head. “I can tell you everything about her medical history, but I can’t explain her psychological complexities. She’s been through a lot in her short life. That’s all I really know.”
I find it strange that she knows so little about what her sister has experienced, but I don’t push. I take notes as she tells me about Charlie’s medical history. I ask as many questions as I can, building an accurate picture of Charlie. I sense there’s so much that Meredith isn’t telling me. I’m desperate for her to open up more.
CHAPTERELEVEN
Ihaven’t been back to the clubhouse since church two days ago. I’m still too furious with Seer to set foot in the place. Damien is exactly as I expected. He’s a malnourished runt the pigs have left out to die. I’m not surprised the chief of police sent such a punk. He probably hopes we’ll take the kid off his hands for good. That will be his fate if any of the men find out who he really is.
But I’ve sworn my loyalty to Seer, so I’ll keep my mouth shut. Regardless of how stupid his decision was, I wouldn’t be where I am without his loyalty. I owe him the same. That doesn’t mean I have to be around the interloper. I hate him with every fiber of my being.
I’ve told Seer I’m taking care of this whole Graveyard matter. I’ll be home for a few days.
Honestly, dealing with some sick child and her antisocial older sister is a better job for me right now. Charlie doesn’t seem to be too sick, though. She and Daisy have created a bond from the moment she stepped into the house. They’re thick as thieves. She’s well enough to play all day. She apparently has incredibly intelligent conversations with the ghost Cassandra. I only know because sometimes I hear her talking at a level too high for Daisy to comprehend.
Great. I’m running a daycare for the dead and dying. I don’t actually know that Charlie is dying, but something is incredibly odd about her. Her dark eyes are hollow and lifeless, as if she’s already burnt out on the world at ten years old. She barely speaks to any adults, except for her sister, Meredith. She’s pale and sunken in a way I can’t explain.
Graveyard assured me Meredith has nothing to do with her apparent malnourishment, which is good. The moment I saw her, I was reminded of Coco as a child. I was sure we would die of starvation or cold. If I thought for one second that Meredith was abusing the little girl, she’d be out on the street in a second. Still, she’s not overly fond of the girl. Something about her reminds me of my cursed aunt. The distance between them is unexpected for siblings.
For instance, right now, Daisy and Charlie sit at the kitchen table for a teddy bear tea party. In other words, my ninth circle of hell. They’re dressed up in hats and plastic jewelry and everything. Meredith is, as she has been for days, holed up in her room. She comes out for meals. She pops her head out frequently to check that Charlie is behaving. Apart from that, I’ve barely seen her.
Their dynamic is hard to understand. I’m not sure that I trust Meredith. It’s not my place to have any opinion about her. I’m only providing a roof over their heads until they can figure out their next move. I hear a door open upstairs and then the hesitant tread of Meredith’s feet. When she enters the kitchen and sees me, she stops short.
“Hello,” she says stiffly, carefully walking to the refrigerator while she puts as much distance between us as possible.
It seems the distrust goes both ways.
“It’s nice to see you out and about,” I tell her kindly. “Abigail and I want you to feel at home here.”
