Page 43 of From the Darkness

In the sunroom, she set her kitty beside her on the chair, then made a face when Bree uncovered the trays. “I hate peas and carrots.”

“Me too. Let’s not eat them!”

The child looked startled. “You’re saying we don’t have to taste everything?”

“That’s what I’m saying.” Grinning, Bree pulled out her chair and sat down.

“And I can still have chocolate cake for dessert?” Dinah clarified.

“Absolutely.”

A smile flickered on the child’s face as she took her seat.

“And you can pick up your pieces of chicken, if you want. That’s what I like to do.” Demonstrating, she grabbed a chicken leg and took a bite.

Dinah followed suit, then asked, “Where did you live when you were a little girl?”

“In Greensboro, North Carolina. My mom was a schoolteacher.”

“Like you.”

“Yes.”

“What about your Daddy?”

“He . . . left us when I was very small. I don’t really remember much about him.”

“Oh.”

“Do you still live with your mom?” Dinah asked.

“She died a few years ago.”

“And that made you sad.”

“Of course.”

“My mom died,” Dinah murmured.

And how did she die?

Bree wanted desperately to ask that question, but she didn’t do it because she didn’t want to bring back painful memories. Instead, she said, “I know. That must have been so hard on you—especially if your daddy was very sad, and he didn’t want to spend a lot of time with you.”

Dinah shifted in her seat. “Who told you about that?”

Bree thought for a moment about what she ought to say. Up till now, she’d been cautious about Dinah’s too many probing questions, because their relationship was new, and she didn’t want to come across as prying. But now it felt right to try and get some information. Still, there was another consideration. Was there any chance that someone could be listening to their conversation? She decided to assume that speaking freely was all right in this room, since it wasn’t a place that anyone regularly frequented. If somebody had gone to the trouble of bugging it, then the whole house would be bugged.

“Your Aunt Helen,” she answered. “She and I met when we were in college at Chapel Hill. And we became very good friends.”

“I haven’t seen Aunt Helen . . . for a long time.”

“Neither have I, because she’s out of the country. But she called me and said she was worried about you and your daddy. She wanted me to find out how you were doing.”

Dinah nodded gravely, then said in a low voice, “Daddy said I could trust you. But I wasn’t sure it was really Daddy.”

Bree’s head jerked up. “He talked to you—but you’re not sure it’s him?”

The child kept her face averted. “I never see him or touch him. But sometimes we have conversations. Then I don’t know if it was a dream.”

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