Public Secrets Part 13

one as she heard voices. Emma scooted back against the wall and sat

frozen, staring at the shards of china from the vase she'd broken.

They would beat her. Send her away. Shut her up in a dark room to be

eaten.

"Emma?" Still dazed with sleep, floating a bit on the joint he'd smoked

before he and Bev had made love, Brian walked toward her.

She curled into herself, bracing for the blow. "Are you all right?"

"They broke it," she told him, hoping to save herself.

"They?"

"The dark things. Mam sent them to get me."

"Oh, Emma." He dropped his cheek to the top of her head.

"Brian, what--" Still belting her robe, Bev rushed out. She saw

what was left of her Dresden vase, gave a little sigh, then crossed to

them, avoiding the shards. "Is she hurt?"

"I don't think so. She's terrified."

"Let's have a look." She took Emma's hand. It was fisted, her arm taut

as a wire. "Emma." Her voice had firmed, but there was no meanness in

it. Cautious, Emma lifted her head. "Did you hurt yourself ?"

Still wary, Emma pointed to her knee. There were a few drops of blood

on the white T-s.h.i.+rt. Bev lifted the hem. It was a long scratch, but

shallow. Still, she imagined most children would have wailed over it.

Perhaps Emma didn't because it was nothing compared to the bruises Brian

had found on the girl when he'd bathed her. In a gesture more automatic

than maternal, Bev lowered her head to kiss the hurt. When she saw

Emma's mouth drop open in shock, her heart was lost.

"All right, sweetie, we'll take care of it." She picked Emma up and

nuzzled her neck.

"There are things in the dark," Emma whispered.

"Your daddy will chase them away. Won't you, Bri?"

The Irish in him, or perhaps the drug, made him weepy when he looked at

the woman he loved holding his child. "Sure. I'll chop them up and

toss them out."

"After you do, you'd better sweep this up," Bev told him.

Emma spent the night, the first of her new life, snuggled with her

family in a big bra.s.s bed.

AS SHE Had every day for nine days, Emma sat on the big window seat in

the front parlor and looked through the mullioned gla.s.s. She stared

beyond the edges of the garden with its nodding foxglove and bushy

columbine to the long graveled drive. And waited.

Her bruises were fading, but she hadn't noticed. No one in the big new

house had hit her. Yet. She'd been given tea every day, and presents

of sugar plums and china dolls from the friends who came and went so

casually in her father's house.

It was all very confusing for Emma. She was given a bath every day,

even if she hadn't been playing in the dirt, and clean-smelling clothes

to wear. No one called her a stupid baby because she was frightened of

the dark. The lamp with the pink shade was turned on in her room every

night, and there were little rosebuds on the walls. The monsters hardly

ever came into her new room.

She was afraid to like it, because she was sure her mam would be coming