“Our mother’s name was Anne,” Jude said, but Hattie saw the question in her eyes.
“It’s her, isn’t it?” Hattie asked, already knowing the truth.
Jude lifted the paper again, studying the image.
“Yes, it’s her. I recognize her. Even with the scarf. And that necklace…” she trailed off, but Hattie understood. Their mother always wore the gold locket and though a gold locket was not unique, the way it rested on their mother’s chest was.
“She had an accident,” Jude said, talking to herself. “That July, they dropped us at Gram Ruth’s and then Mama died.”
Jude rarely said mama, always mother, and Hattie could see her working back through the years in her mind.
“He never said what it was, the accident,” Jude continued. “Dad, he was acting so strangely and then-”
“He died too.”
Jude nodded, frowning at the newspaper.
“The Northern Michigan Asylum? Mom was not crazy. Why would they…?”
Hattie showed her the second paper that depicted two young girls standing in front of a horse pen. She considered telling Jude about the girl in the yellow dress, but bit her tongue.
Jude whistled, shaking her head and glancing at her baby sister. Hattie knew she was noticing the resemblance.
“There’s more. A whole crate of stuff nailed shut. I didn’t take much, but I’m going back. I need to see what’s in that crate.”
Jude nodded, eyes fixed on some place far away. “In the loft? Where Dad died?”
Hattie nodded. She had considered that too. Had Daddy put the crate there? Or someone else? Had the guilt from the lie killed him?
“Fucking Gram Ruth,” Jude spat. “She has to be behind this.” Jude stood angrily from her chair, knocking it to the floor. She paced to the little window that looked over the street below. “How could Dad have lied?”
Only eight when their mother died, Hattie had lived in a haze of grief and loneliness. She barely remembered the stories they were told.
“Let’s go right now,” Jude said, turning away from the window with a wild expression.
Short and muscular, Jude looked like an animal cornering her prey. Even her caramel colored pencil skirt and red sweater gave her the appearance of a brightly colored jungle cat.
Hattie shook her head.
“No, Gram will be there, and I don’t think we should tell her.”
“Confront her, you mean? That’s exactly what we should do.”
Hattie’s stomach turned at the thought of facing off with Gram Ruth. She had always done her best to stay on Gram’s good side. Unlike Jude who intentionally riled her at every opportunity.
“Don’t tell me you’re still scared of her?” Jude demanded.
Hattie shrugged and fiddled with the edge of the newspaper, looking again at the picture of their mother.
“Not scared, but, I don’t know. I have a bad feeling, Jude.”
Jude rolled her eyes. “Don’t go all woo-woo on me now. This isn’t the time to flake out.”
Hattie bit her tongue, tempted to tell Jude about the man who led her to the crate. She knew Jude would only laugh and write it off.
Hattie had confided in Jude, more than once, about the apparitions she’d met over the years, hoping Jude would share she too had seen the ghosts. Jude only looked at her like she was nuts and told her she better keep that crazy to herself or Gram Ruth would have her locked away.
“How will you sleep tonight, Hattie? Knowing half the truth? Will you lay in bed thinking about that crate?”
“Tonight then,” Hattie said, resigned. “Gram goes to bed at nine.”
“Deal.” Jude lifted the paper one more time and then shook her head angrily. “I’ll pick you up at eight-thirty.”
Damien
Damien straightened his tie and knocked on the door. He wished he’d foregone his second cup of coffee. Meeting Doctor Kaiser made him nervous. He didn’t need the additional caffeine to worsen the experience.
Kaiser opened his office door and gestured that Damien take a seat. The shades were drawn, blotting out the sunny day. Though the office was meticulously kept, Damien often felt claustrophobic in the room.
“Tell me about the girls,” Dr. Kaiser asked Damien quietly. Damien’s skin crawled, and he shifted away from the man, standing to examine a book on his fastidiously organized shelf.
“They’re great,” Damien told him. “Jude is a fireball, all attitude, sexy as hell, a little rough around the edges. Hattie is her polar opposite, sweet as vanilla ice cream with a heart of gold.”
“Beautiful?” the doctor asked, and Damien barely caught the question, almost a whisper.
The doctor stared at a file in front of him, his eyes burning into the page, but his mind clearly elsewhere.
Not for the first time, Damien questioned working with Doctor Kaiser. Unconventional was one thing, but the man gave him the creeps. However, Damien needed the recommendation.
“Yes, both beautiful,” Damien wanted to hold back, but he knew the doctor would probe for details. “Jude is short, muscley, like a gymnast and Hattie is…” Damien searched for the words, “angelic.”
Dr. Kaiser looked up sharply and rested his pointed gaze on Damien. His eyes, sharp blue flecks, bore into him and Damien tried to hold his stare. After seconds that felt like minutes, Damien looked away, face growing warm. The Doctor had looked at him with knowing as if they shared a dirty secret that lived in the deepest stratum of all men. A primal urge, born of a lesser consciousness, that needed only a glimpse of flesh, a brush of fingertips to awaken from its slumber.
“Any news of their mother? Sophia?” The doctor spoke her name with relish, his mouth forming the O and spreading it into a long sigh.
“I didn’t want to rush into those questions,” Damien told him. “I want to know them first, approach the topic carefully.”
“Yes, as you should,” the Doctor agreed, returning to the file on his desk with actual interest. “I expect a full report as soon as you’ve broached the subject.”
Damien left the office and immediately shrugged out of his blazer. Sweat grew in circles beneath his armpits and the tie encircling his neck appeared to be strangling him. He stumbled into the bathroom and fought it off, whipping it onto the floor like a live snake. He splashed cold water on his face and peered at his reflection. Water ran in rivulets over the thick ridge of his brow and dripped from his chin. His eyes looked vacant and, if he were honest, scared.
The doctor terrified him.
Damien remembered a dream from his boyhood. A hideous witch chased him through the woods behind his house. He would always escape her, rush into his bedroom and close the door, only to turn and find her waiting by the window.
Dr. Kaiser reminded him of the witch from his nightmares.
Hattie
Hattie stared at the silhouette of the trees rolling by. Her stomach growled. Since finding the newspapers, she had been unable to eat. She tried to force down a piece of dry toast before Jude picked her up but took only two bites before throwing it in the trash. Even painting had done little to soothe her. After an hour staring at a blank canvas, she’d given up and taken a walk instead.
Jude cranked her music loud. Hattie’s teeth vibrated in her head. She thought about asking Jude to turn it down but preferred the music over Jude’s hateful diatribes about Gram Ruth. Hattie could tell that Jude spent her afternoon working into a greater and greater frenzy over the lies.