Page 23 of Strangers She Knows

Seeing Rae’s hopeful face, Kellen cursed herself. “No. You’d be too far away, and it’s dark up here.”

“I wouldn’t mind.”

“Even when you have a nightmare?”

Yesterday’s belligerent denial was gone. Rae grimaced. “I guess not.”

“Besides, no bathroom that I can see.” Although perhaps it was through the next door.

Rae picked up a pair of binoculars from a shelf in the alcove and pointed them outside the window. “Look! A bird nest in the top of one of the oaks.” Her voice brightened. “There are babies!”

“Let me see!” Kellen grabbed another set of binoculars and crawled into the window seat. These binoculars were heavy, and with her uncooperative hand, it took her a few minutes to gain control and focus on the tree. She found the nest, then the gawping mouths of the infant birds, and then she focused on the mother, tearing bits of meat into shreds to feed them. “Is that an eagle?”

“I don’t know. We could look it up online—”

“There are books on the bookshelves!” Kellen slid out of the window seat, grabbed the first book on bird watching she could find, and shoved it at Rae. “Look it up!”

Rae was interested enough not to grumble, and used the binoculars and the book, back and forth, until she could shout, “It’s a peregrine falcon!”

“Wow. I don’t think I’ve ever seen one before.” Kellen wandered over to a wall of cupboards. “That’s wonderful!”

“They’re a fully protected raptor.”

“It’s a beautiful bird. I’m glad it’s protected.” Kellen opened one door and found a closet filled with art supplies. “Someone painted up here!”

“Yes, Mother, it looks very well painted.” Rae was dreaming; she didn’t want to be interrupted with prosaic matters.

“I meant art.”

Rae didn’t react, so Kellen closed the door and snooped further. The other doors revealed old Christmas decorations, stacks of notebooks and pens, a well-stocked linen closet, and finally a recessed door that looked as if it went into the other part of the attic.

Luna slipped off the cushions and came to Kellen’s side, sat in front of the door and wagged her tail as if expecting Kellen to open it.

Kellen turned the cut glass knob.

The door was locked.

Luna looked up at her as if to say,Come on!

“I’ll see if I can find a key,” Kellen told her.

Rae had followed Luna, and when the door failed them, she went to the desk and rifled through the drawers. “Somebody up here wrote a lot of letters.”

Kellen hurried over and took the pile Rae held. “Three-cent stamps! Postmarked in the 1930s and ’40s.” She wanted to open them, but it seemed vaguely rude.

“Look!” Rae held up a small blue leather-bound book. “It’s a diary!” She felt no qualms; she opened it to the first page. “‘September 1, 1938. Ruby Evelyn Morgade, my book.’” She turned the page and read, “‘I turn fifteen years old today and my sister sent me this journal as a gift. Bessie says to keep it hidden from Father or he’ll read it, and all my secret beliefs and deep emotions will be revealed. He doesn’t deem his wife or children should be allowed private thoughts, and he is the head of this household so he controls us all.’” Rae looked up, frowning thunderously. “I don’t like her father.”

“What a jerk,” Kellen agreed.

“Who does he think he is?”

“He was the rich newspaperman who owned the house. In those days, men did pretty much what they wanted with their families. And to their families.”

“The olden days?”

“Yes.” Kellen hesitated, then reminded her, “Now, too. My first husband abused me. I was lucky to escape alive.”

“I know, Mommy. I’m sorry.” Rae hugged her, and leaned her head against Kellen’s shoulder.

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