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For a moment, Scarlett didn’t know what to say and so she kept her eyes on the painting as though studying its tones and shadows. Fallen woman? Atonement? What was she supposed to say to that? Was Scarlett considered a fallen woman? Was the sister suggesting that she should atone? You’re being paranoid and defensive, she told herself. She’s a nun. So her ideas are antiquated. So what?
“It’s a beautiful painting. The symmetry is . . . quite masterful. Not that I know anything much about art. Just . . . well . . .” She glanced at the slip of paper in her hand and then back to Sister Madge. Stop rambling. You sound like an idiot. “Thank you so much. I’m grateful for the contact.” Although now she couldn’t help question the referral. If the teen—Amelia—started talking about atonement, she would have to pass.
“I hope it works out.” Sister Madge stood and so did Scarlett. The old nun came around the desk and opened the door. “I need to head downstairs as well. I’ll walk you back to fetch your little girl. Haddie, was it?”
“Yes,” Scarlett said as she stepped through the door of the simple house after Sister Madge, and they walked side by side down the path, through the back door, and downstairs, stepping out into the wide-open space Scarlett assumed was used for church business events and socials, and came to stand in front of the large glass window. “That’s her right there,” Scarlett said, pointing to where Haddie sat in a chair against the wall, her face focused down on the book in her lap.
“Hmm,” Sister Madge hummed, her head tilted as she gazed at Haddie. “Beautiful child.” She looked up at Scarlett. “So many would give anything to have such a precious gift.”
Scarlett nodded, smiling even as additional unease pinched her chest. Odd thing to say. “She is a gift.”
“Indeed. We’d just love to have her as part of the church youth group. Of course, that won’t be for some time as she’ll need to be thirteen, but you keep that in mind.”
Scarlett couldn’t even begin to imagine her daughter as a teenager. Not yet. Still, she smiled at the nun. “Oh. Absolutely. I will. I’d love Haddie to be very involved in the community.”
Sister Madge’s smile widened. “I do hope so, dear.”
“Thank you again, Sister.”
“Of course. If you need anything, just call. Farrow has always come together for its residents during any time of need, big or small. We take pride in a long history of caring for our own.” And with that, Sister Madge gave her one last smile and then turned, heading for the stairwell.
Scarlett opened the door, seeing Ruth on the other side of the room and shooting her a smile that faded quickly when Ruth didn’t smile back, but instead gave her a thin-lipped look of disapproval, heading to where she stood. Scarlett glanced quickly at Haddie, who was still sitting with her head bowed. It was only then she noticed that her shoulders were shaking very slightly as though she was crying. That pinch of unease gripped tighter. She took a step toward her child, turning back at Ruth’s voice directly behind her.
“Ms. Lattimore.”
“Ruth, what happened? Is everything okay?”
“I’m afraid not. Haddie said something quite cruel to Mikey.” She nodded her head to a little disabled boy propped in a chair by the window, his legs encased in metal braces, head tilted, a thin line of spittle running down his chin.
Confusion swept through Scarlett. Haddie had said something cruel? “What did she say?”
“Robby heard her tell Mikey that he was nothing. Nothing at all. Bullying is not tolerated here, Ms. Lattimore. She is not welcome back.”CHAPTER ELEVENThirteen Years AgoShe needed a cell phone, any cell phone. And not because she intended on making a call, even if she could find a spot where there was service. Like she’d told her new roommates, no one was going to believe a word she said. The past few years had ensured that. She had a feeling the greeting she’d received from Ms. Wykes was only the tip of the iceberg around here as far as abnormal—and perhaps illegal—practices occurred. What she needed was video.
The sounds of dishes clattering softly behind her faded as she made her way down the hall, ducking into the bathroom, waiting a few minutes by the door, and then peeking out. No one had followed her. She walked quickly toward Ms. Wykes office, glancing behind her every few steps to make sure she wasn’t spotted. She had slipped out the side door when the other girls at her table rose to dish up their plates. Thankfully the table she’d been assigned to was near the back of the room, somewhat obscured by the other tables. She’d slip back in when the other students were busy clearing the tables and bussing their dishes.
