Chapter 7: What Kerensa Was Told
I was at Dara's house by seven.
Kerensa was on the sofa under a blanket, a bowl of cereal in her lap, watching something on the television.
When she saw me come through the door she put the bowl down and held her arms up.
I sat beside her and pulled her into my lap and didn't say anything for a minute.
Dara stood in the kitchen doorway with her arms folded, watching us.
"Hey," I said into Kerensa's hair.
"Auntie Dara said you had a bad dream."
She nodded against my chest.
"Do you want to tell me about it?"
She shook her head.
"That's okay." I held her a little tighter.
"Can I ask you something else instead?"
She went still.
Not the normal still of a child listening.
The other kind.
"Did someone tell you not to talk to Daddy about things that happen at home?"
A long pause.
Then a very small nod.
"Who told you that?"
She didn't answer.
But her hand found mine and she pressed my fingers together like she was checking I was solid.
"Kerensa.
You're not in trouble.
I promise.
I just need to know."
"Mummy said," she whispered.
"What did Mummy say?"
She pulled back just far enough to look at me.
Her eyes were very serious.
Four years old and already carrying something she shouldn't have to carry.
"She said if I told you things you'd be sad.
And if you got too sad you'd have to go away.
Like Grandpa did."
My father had died two years ago.
Kerensa had been told he went away to be with the angels.
She didn't fully understand it yet.
Meliora knew that.
Dara made a sound from the kitchen doorway.
I didn't look at her.
"Kerensa," I said carefully, "Daddy is not going anywhere.
Do you understand me?
Nothing you tell me will make me go away.
Not ever."
"Promise?"
"I promise."
She studied my face for a moment the way children do when they're deciding whether to believe something.
Then she leaned back against me and picked up her cereal bowl.
"She said other things too," she said quietly, like she was telling me something about the weather.
"She said I was too loud.
And that my hair was ugly and that's why she fixed it."
The spoon went around in the bowl.
"She said ugly things don't get kept."
I put my hand over hers and held it there until she stopped stirring.
Dara came and sat across from us.
Her eyes were wet.
She didn't try to hide it.
"Owen," she said.
"I know."
"That's not discipline.
That's not even anger.
That's—"
"I know, Dara."
We sat quietly for a moment.
Kerensa ate her cereal.
Outside a bird was making a lot of noise in the tree by Dara's front window.
"She threatened me last night," I said.
"Said I didn't want to dig into things.
Said she knew things I didn't."
Dara looked up.
"What things?"
"She wouldn't say.
But she wasn't bluffing.
I could tell."
"What are you going to do?"
"I'm keeping my appointment with the lawyer.
And I'm going to the bank this morning to freeze the joint account."
"Good."
"And I need you to write down exactly what Kerensa said to you last night.
Word for word, as close as you can remember.
Time, what she was doing, all of it."
Dara nodded.
She was already reaching for her phone.
Kerensa looked up at me.
"Are we going home today?"
"Not today, sweetheart.
You're going to stay with Auntie Dara a little longer."
"Is Mummy there?"
"Yes."
She looked back at the television.
"Okay," she said.
Just that.
Okay.
Like staying away from home was the easier option and she already knew it.
That was the moment I stopped second-guessing myself.
I kissed the top of her head — the bare side, the side Meliora had taken from her — and stood up.
My phone buzzed in my pocket.
The unknown number again.
May you like
This time, a name.
*Ask her about Daniel Forsythe.*
