Chapter 2 - Tessa Wouldn’t Say the Name
Everett did not question her in the garden.
He carried Tessa inside, wrapped her in two thick towels, changed her into warm clothes with help from the longtime housekeeper, and sat with her in the upstairs sunroom until the shivering stopped.
Cole tried to follow.
Everett locked the door.
“You don’t get near her until I understand what happened.”
“That’s my daughter!”
“Then you should have acted like her father.”
Cole struck the outside of the door once with his palm.
Everett waited.
Eventually the footsteps moved away.
Tessa sat curled beside him in an oversized cream sweater, her bare feet tucked under the blanket.
He gave her warm milk.
She held the mug in both hands.
For almost ten minutes, Everett asked nothing.
Children who had been frightened needed safety before questions. He had learned that raising Cole, though somewhere along the road his son had apparently forgotten everything Everett tried to teach him.
Finally Tessa whispered:
“Grandpa?”
“I’m right here.”
“Are they mad?”
“Yes.”
“At me?”
“No.”
She studied his face.
“Really?”
“Really.”
The answer seemed to loosen something inside her.
Everett waited another minute.
Then he said gently, “Outside you told me there was another person.”
Tessa immediately looked toward the closed sunroom door.
That reaction mattered.
“Someone here?”
She shook her head.
“Someone who comes here?”
Another hesitation.
Then a tiny nod.
Everett kept his voice neutral.
“A man?”
Tessa frowned.
“I don’t know.”
That surprised him.
“You don’t know if it’s a man or a woman?”
“She wears big glasses.”
Everett said nothing.
Tessa stared into the milk.
“And gloves.”
“What color?”
“White.”
“Does this person have a name?”
Tessa’s expression tightened.
“Marla says I’m not supposed to call her anything.”
Everett felt the first real chill.
“What are you supposed to do when she comes?”
Tessa’s fingers tightened around the mug.
“Remember.”
The same word Marla had used outside.
You probably remember it well by now.
Everett shifted closer.
“Remember what?”
Tessa looked like she wanted to answer.
Then fear won.
“She said if I tell it wrong, we have to start again.”
Everett’s stomach dropped.
“Start what again?”
Tessa looked toward the rain beginning to gather against the windows.
Then she whispered:
“The cold part.”
It had happened before.
Not once.
Enough times for a five-year-old to understand a procedure.
Everett forced himself not to react too strongly.
“How many times?”
Tessa began counting silently on her fingers.
One.
Two.
Three.
She stopped.
“Lots.”
Everett looked toward the door.
Marla had not dumped a bucket over Tessa because she lost her temper.
Cole had not stood there because he was too weak to intervene.
They were repeating something.
May you like
And somebody else had been helping them do it.
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