Page 16 of Dark Shadow of Guilt

She spied a wrecked, abandoned car on the curb. The rear bumper dangled on the ground, the hood was ajar, and the grill was bent. She peeked inside. Empty.

While ignoring the dirty, torn front seat, Madeline opened the door to slide in. She prayed the locks worked. They did.Click. Feeling a bit safer for the moment, she curled onto her side.

As the radio talk show psychologist Lizette Lee had advised, she’d identified the problem, planned an escape, and carried out the plan. Now, she faced round two. She’d analyze the new situation and run it through the steps later. She was so exhausted she closed her eyes for a minute.

Maddy’s lids fluttered. Just a short nap. Haunted by her past, she was in limbo, caught in a restless dream-awake state.

Her biological parent, or parents, had abandoned her in front of a Catholic church in St. Louis when she was an infant. She never sought their identity. They hadn’t wanted her. She didn’t want them. Then shortly after her arrival at the orphanage, the Williamsons had adopted her.

For years, she was the treasured, spoiled only child in a wealthy family. She remembered snippets with her new parents. They showered her with gifts on birthdays or holidays, took her on fun vacations to Disneyland or the beach, and were kind, caring, and devoted to each other as well as to her. She rode on her father’s shoulders to watch parades, ran into the kitchen smelling chocolate chip cookies, and learned to bait a hook on a fishing trip. They laughed easily and often.

She attended an exclusive preschool. Her mother enrolled her in every imaginable class—voice, dance, piano. Nothing stuck. She lacked those creative talents, but she was told not to worry. She would find her talent elsewhere. She was a clever child.

All was good. But age eight was a pivotal year. It’s when the arguments began. Late at night in her bed, she’d hear her parents’ angry, muffled voices, objects being tossed, and doors slamming when her father left the house. Then, her mother’s tears flowed.

The fights centered around drinking. Being young, Madeline didn’t understand why water, coffee, or soda would matter because they had plenty of money for groceries.

One night, after a horrible, loud fight, her mother came into Maddy’s room, still wiping moisture from her eyes. She sat on the edge of the bed, patting the blankets, cocooning her in them. “I know you’re awake. I’m sorry about all this mess. Though your dad and I are going through a rough patch, I have a solution. The orphanage called about two girls who need fostering. I think they could take our focus off these ridiculous problems. Would you like sisters?”

Madeline rolled onto her back, shifting her arms on top of the blankets. “Would they be nice?”

“The nun assured me they are.”

“Would they sleep in my room?”

“No. This space will always be yours. Only yours. We have two spare rooms for the girls. We’ll convert my sewing room to guest quarters.”

“Will they play with me?”

“Of course they will, even though they are a bit older. They will be your big sisters, great friends.”

Fiamma was eleven when she joined the Williamson family. Darya was a year older. Both girls were everything Maddy’s mother had promised. They were nice, and they played with her. Mostly. Sometimes, they ran off and did big girl things, but they always made it up to her later, baking cookies, playing house or school, or drawing pictures.

The mother and father stopped arguing about drinking. The household was far too busy for family fights. Fia excelled at voice lessons, eventually having a private coach. Darya danced and enrolled in the best ballet school. Madeline sometimes accompanied them, amazed at their talents.

Once, when she told them she was jealous, the sisters sat her down for a stern conversation. They explained that Fia was the singer, Darya was the dancer, and Madeline was the smart, scholarly one. Each girl had a gift. And while they were not alike, each would be a star.

Darya, the oldest said, “Revel in what you have, not in what you lack or what others possess.”

When her sisters walked her home from school, the other kids crowded around, amazed at their beauty. Fia had red hair as fiery as her personality. Everything about her was vibrant. Darya was trim, long-legged, with light brown skin and tight coils in the dark hair that hung to the middle of her back. Maddy’s friends wanted to hang out at her house because her sisters were so kind and thought up tons of games to play.

Then it happened again. The nightly arguments. The muffled voices. The slammed doors. The loud sobs. Madeline had just celebrated her eleventh birthday at a local pizza place. When they returned, the mother called the girls into the hall to witness an event. Their father had stashed three bags by the front door. He kissed each girl on the cheek, mumbling how sorry he was and how he would still be in their lives. He grabbed his luggage, one under his arm and the others gripped in a fist. He left the house. Madeline, Fia, and Darya stood frozen, shock on their faces.

When the mother latched onto his shoulder, he struggled out of her clutches, shouldering her away. She tumbled to the floor. Quickly, Darya gathered her wits to drop beside their mother and console her.

Mother clutched the oldest sister like a lifeline. “What will I do? What will I do?”

Madeline and Fia came to life, helping Darya get their mother to bed. They sat with her until she fell asleep. Her eyes red and puffy, she cried herself to sleep.

Afterward, Darya called a meeting in the living room. The three girls agreed to be extra kind and help around the home on the housekeeper’s off-time.

The following day, her mother stayed in bed while Fia and Darya fixed breakfast. They took charge of getting Madeline to school on time. The entire week was the same routine. Their mother stayed in bed while Maddy’s sisters prepped breakfast, packed school lunches, and cooked dinner. When groceries grew scarce, Fia collected money from their mom’s wallet and went to the store.

Weeks passed. Their father never visited and the mother kept to her room. Madeline read, read, read. She read about the world, real and imaginary. Darya made a schedule to keep their lives ordered and, knowing all Mother’s passwords, paid bills. Since money was no problem, the housekeeper continued to come three times a week, doing the laundry one of the days. Madeline took responsibility for her share of the breakfasts and simple dinners, doing homework, and getting to school on time.

At night, the girls often fell asleep in the same bed, arms around each other, keeping spirits high and love alive, even if only among themselves.

Something woke Madeline. The car was rocking from side to side. Once she flicked her lids open, she saw a man’s large head at the window, his palm above his ethereal, mesmerizing eyes while he peered inside. He was one of the giants from the bar, his face punctuated with whistling-pursed lips.

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