Page 30 of I Would Die for You

“Ah, that must have been his sister,” I lie, aware of the bitter irony. “She was in town last week.”

Eva eyes me with suspicion and I find myself wondering if she knows something I don’t.

“Of course,” she says, trying to sound convinced. “That would explain their closeness.”

My lips pull thin, and I have an overwhelming desire to slap the meddling old cow in the face, but I restrain myself, if only for the sake of Hannah, who will be coming around again any second now.

I look up, my eyes furtively scanning the rise and fall of every horse that circumnavigates the 360-degree revolution. They all look the same, their colors bamboozling me, and I’m no longer able to distinguish between them. Yet I know that my red-headed daughter would be easy to spot if she were on one.

“Hannah!” I croak, taking four or five steps forward, as if it will help me see better. “Hannah!”

I spin around, my eyes no longer able to focus on my surroundings as panic descends and my legs threaten to give way.

“Nicole?” questions Eva. “Is everything OK?”

“She’s not… she’s not there!” I choke, the air to my lungs seemingly cut off at the pass. “She’s gone!”

The carousel continues to spin, churning out its macabre music, and I’m struggling to breathe.

“Hannah!” I scream.

Concerned faces turn at my pitiful shriek; strangers give me a wide berth, while those I recognize rush to me with a look of “Dear god, not again” etched into their furrowed brows.

“Stop the ride!” I yell, my adrenaline-laced legs unable to decide which way to go first.

The galloping horses slow to a trot, and I jump up onto the first board, desperately trying to correct my balance as I crawl up the steps.

“Hannah!” I call out, weaving my way through the startled faces of young children suspended on mythical creatures.

“Mommy?” comes a voice.

It sounds like Hannah, but my brain is so convinced that she’s gone that I dismiss it and allow the thousands of other noises in my head to run amok, goading me with a cacophony so loud that I put my hands over my ears to drown it out.

I see someone who looks a lot like Brad walking toward me on the platform and my blurred vision allows me to believe that he has our daughter’s hand in his. I pull myself together, forcing myself to breathe, as I hold on to one of the candy-cane poles for support.

“Nicole!” he shouts, his voice sounding far away, even though he’s getting ever closer.

I look down at his side and my little girl’s silhouette slowly begins to come into focus. My chest convulses, letting out the fear that had been trapped inside.

“Hannah,” I gasp. “Where were you?”

“Just here, Mommy,” she says, looking between me and Brad, wondering what she’s done wrong.

“But… but you weren’t on the horse,” I say, feeling like I’m losing my mind.

“I went in the mermaid,” she says, pointing to the sickly pink tail fin that hides a seat within.

“But I told you…”

“Nic,” says Brad sharply, taking hold of my flailing arm. “She’s fine.”

“She was supposed to stay where she was,” I cry, my utter relief rushing out of me.

“But I wanted to sit with Auntie,” says Hannah.

A knife plunges into my chest, twisting itself until I can’t breathe. My head swivels, my eyes scanning the crowd below, who look on awkwardly, their desire to know what’s going on at odds with the embarrassment they no doubt feel for me. I search for the features I vaguely recall from the woman at my door—the slim frame, the dirty-blond bob, the slight air of superiority about her—but my eyes still won’t let me see straight. Whoever she is and wherever she is, I willnotlet her hold my family for ransom in this way. I would rather tell the truth than have her blackmailing me into living a lie.

“Listen, sweetie,” I say, kneeling down to meet Hannah’s eyes. “I know we may call her Auntie, but she’s not really. She’s a pretend auntie who isn’t a part of our family, because Daddy doesn’t actually have a sister.”

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