Chapter 1 - The Summer Emma Came Home)
Six weeks earlier, Emma Carter arrived at her grandfather's house with one suitcase, one backpack, and absolutely no intention of staying longer than necessary.
Her father had accepted a temporary construction contract in Denver. Because Emma was sixteen and technically old enough to stay alone, she had argued that she should remain in their apartment in Ohio.
Her father disagreed.
Charles offered his house in Pennsylvania for the summer.
Emma had not seen him for nearly two years.
Her mother, Sarah, Charles's middle daughter, had died when Emma was eleven. After the funeral, family visits slowly became less frequent.
There had never been a dramatic argument.
The Carters simply drifted apart.
Vanessa remained near Charles.
Emma and her father moved away.
And another daughter, Olivia, became a name that people rarely mentioned.
When Charles opened the front door that June afternoon, he looked older than Emma remembered.
His gray hair had thinned.
His shoulders had rounded.
But his smile was genuine.
"There she is."
Emma let him hug her.
"Hi, Grandpa."
He stepped back and looked at her.
"You look like your mother."
Emma had heard the sentence a thousand times.
Usually it comforted her.
From Charles, it sounded painful.
Before Emma could answer, little feet came running across the living room.
A girl stopped at the doorway.
She was tiny for six, with light brown hair and enormous brown eyes.
Emma recognized Lily from photographs.
"Hi," Emma said.
Lily looked toward the stairs before answering.
"Hi."
Emma crouched.
"I'm Emma."
"I know."
That made Emma smile.
"You do?"
"Grandpa has your picture."
Emma opened her arms slightly.
Lily hesitated.
Then she came forward.
The hug lasted less than two seconds.
"Don't bother Emma."
The voice came from behind them.
Vanessa Carter entered the room carrying a basket of folded towels.
Emma remembered her aunt as beautiful in a sharp, severe way.
She still was.
Shoulder length dark hair framed a face that seemed permanently disappointed with the world.
"She just arrived," Vanessa said.
Lily immediately stepped away.
Emma noticed it.
So did Charles.
Neither said anything.
Vanessa placed the basket on a chair.
"You've grown."
"So have you."
Charles gave Emma a warning glance.
Vanessa did not smile.
"Your room is upstairs. Second door on the left."
Emma picked up her suitcase.
Lily followed her toward the stairs.
Vanessa spoke again.
"Lily."
The child froze.
"Where are you going?"
"Helping Emma."
"She doesn't need help."
Lily lowered her eyes.
Emma looked between them.
"Actually, I could use help."
Vanessa's mouth tightened.
"It's a suitcase."
"I've seen suitcases before."
Charles coughed into one hand, hiding what might have been a smile.
Vanessa turned away.
"Fine."
Lily followed Emma upstairs.
The moment they reached the landing, the little girl whispered, "You shouldn't make her mad."
Emma looked down.
"Who?"
"Mom."
Emma glanced toward the stairs.
"Why?"
Lily shrugged.
"She gets different."
That sentence stayed with Emma.
Her bedroom was at the end of a short hallway near the laundry area.
While Lily sat on the floor helping her unpack, Emma asked ordinary questions.
Favorite color.
Favorite movie.
Favorite food.
Lily answered quietly.
Pink.
Anything with horses.
Pancakes.
Then Emma asked, "Do you go to school around here?"
Lily nodded.
"First grade in August."
"You excited?"
Another shrug.
"Grandpa says school is good."
"What does your mom say?"
Lily folded one of Emma's shirts unnecessarily carefully.
"Mom says people ask too many questions."
Emma stopped unpacking.
"What kind of questions?"
Lily looked toward the open bedroom door.
Then she whispered, "About families."
Emma frowned.
Before she could ask anything else, Vanessa called from downstairs.
"Lily!"
The girl immediately stood.
"I have to go."
"You didn't do anything."
Lily gave her a strange look.
Like Emma had misunderstood the problem completely.
"I know."
Then she left.
That evening they ate roast chicken around Charles's old dining table.
Emma sat beside Lily.
Vanessa sat opposite them.
Charles barely spoke.
It became obvious within minutes that Lily lived according to rules no one had explained to Emma.
She could not pour her own water.
She could not leave the table without permission.
She could not answer questions directed at Vanessa.
When Emma asked Lily whether she wanted more potatoes, Vanessa answered for her.
"She's had enough."
Lily's fork stopped halfway toward her mouth.
Emma looked at her plate.
She had eaten almost nothing.
"She said earlier she likes potatoes."
Vanessa's gaze moved to Emma.
"Did she?"
Lily stared at the table.
Emma felt tension gathering.
Charles quietly reached for his water.
"Vanessa," he said.
"What?"
"Let the girl eat."
For several seconds nobody moved.
Then Vanessa pushed the bowl toward Lily.
"Fine."
Lily took one small spoonful.
Later, Emma found Charles on the back porch.
He was staring into the dark yard.
She sat beside him.
"Is Vanessa always like that?"
Charles rubbed one hand over his jaw.
"Like what?"
"Like Lily is a prisoner."
His expression hardened.
"That's a dramatic word."
"Is it?"
"Vanessa has had a difficult few years."
"So has Lily, apparently."
Charles looked at her.
Emma expected anger.
Instead she saw fear.
It vanished quickly.
"Don't interfere with things you don't understand."
It was the first cold thing he had ever said to her.
Emma stood.
"Okay."
She turned toward the house.
Charles called after her.
"Emma."
She looked back.
He seemed to want to say something.
He did not.
That night Emma woke shortly after two in the morning.
For a moment she did not know what had awakened her.
Then she heard it.
A soft tapping.
Three taps.
Pause.
Three more.
Emma sat up.
The sound came from the hallway.
She opened her bedroom door.
The corridor was dark.
At the far end, near the washer and dryer, Lily stood barefoot in her pajamas.
"Lily?"
The little girl jumped.
Emma walked toward her.
"What are you doing?"
Lily pointed toward the wall behind the dryer.
"I heard Mommy."
Emma stared at her.
"Vanessa?"
Lily shook her head.
"My other mommy."
Emma's skin prickled.
"What other mommy?"
Lily looked toward the stairs.
May you like
Then back at Emma.
"The one Mom says I'm never allowed to talk about."
