Page 32 of The Only One Left

“That’s not funny.”

“But I didn’t do it! I was barely touching it! It had to—”

Jessie’s mouth drops open and her eyes go wide, startled by something behind me. I whirl around to face the mirrored wall at my back, expecting to see—well, I don’t know. What I do see is my alarmed reflection and, just over my shoulder, Jessie breaking into a wide grin she tries to hide by slapping a hand over her mouth.

“Not cool,” I say.

“I’m sorry,” Jessie says, laughing openly now. “But you should have seen the look on your face. I, like, totally got you.”

I stand and brush dust from the skirt of my uniform. “So what you said about Mary thinking this place is haunted is—”

“Totally made-up,” Jessie admits as she picks up the Ouija board and retrieves the planchette. “I was just messing with you.”

“Then why did Mary really leave?”

“I don’t know.” Jessie turns off the lights and leaves the ballroom. I follow, closing the doors behind me. “One day, she was just... gone.”

“Weren’t the two of you close?”

“Ithought we were,” Jessie says. “Close enough for her to tell me she was leaving, at least.”

“And no one else knows why she left?”

“Nope.”

We’re in the kitchen now, Jessie heading to the service stairs and me leaning against the center counter. “Aren’t you worried about her?”

“A little,” Jessie says. “But Mary’s smart. And normally super responsible. I know she wouldn’t leave like that without a good reason.”

“Do you think Lenora had something to do with it?”

“Like Mary was scared of her?” Jessie shakes her head. “No way. She adored Lenora. I think she left because of a family emergency or something. Her parents live in the next county. One of them probably got sick and she had to leave, like, immediately. I’m sure she’ll reach out and tell me what happened when she gets the chance.”

I hope that’s true, for Jessie’s sake. But I know from personal experience it doesn’t work that way. When I left a patient to care for my mother, a replacement for me needed to be arranged. I didn’t just leave in the middle of the night like Mary did.

“I should get back to my room,” Jessie says with a tiny yawn. “I’m about to start recording a new book for Lenora.Laceby Shirley Conran.”

“I read it,” I say. “It’s good. Racy.”

“Awesome. Lenora loves racy.”

I wish her goodnight and stand for a moment in the vast, empty kitchen. I run my gaze along the walls, trying to estimate its size, which might be larger than my father’s entire house. This fact would have impressed the hell out of my mother. Not so much my father, who hates the rich almost as much as he hates politicians.

I touch the telephone, which is so old it could be in a museum. But it still works. Lifting the receiver from its cradle, I hear the steady buzz of a dial tone. Quickly, I dial my father’s number, rationalizing it by telling myself he’ll at least want to know where I am. According to the kitchen’s equally ancient clock, it’s just past ten o’clock, so I assume he’s still awake. Sure enough, he answers after three rings.

“Hello?”

I say nothing, the urge to speak fleeing at the sound of his voice. In the background, I hear a woman talking. It might be the TV. Or it could be his new girlfriend, allowed to stay the night now that I’m not there.

“Hello?” he says again. “Who is this?”

I hang up and back away from the phone, worried he’s certain it was me and will now try calling back. An impossibility. He doesn’t know where I am or the phone number for Hope’s End. And since he didn’t want to talk to me while I lived with him, I see no reason why he would now that I’m gone.

The only thing I’m certain about as I head upstairs is that at least now my father knows how it feels to be met with silence.

TEN

Just like when Mrs. Baker first led me to it, my bedroom door seemingly moves on its own. One touch of the handle is all it takes to send it swinging open with a pronounced creak.

---