Page 20 of A Heart So Haunted
The roaring between my ears calmed the longer I sat. I counted the beats through the seat upholstery—the volume loud enough to hit deep, deep in my chest. In the cup holder by my elbow, my phone pinged.
I turned it off. Mom could wait—all of it, for a few moments, could be forgotten.
Everyone dealt with death, memories, and old pain at some point, and it was my turn on the merry-go-round, but I wanted off. I didn’t remember standing in the line for this ride.
I didn’t want to admit it, but Ivan was tangled to Cadence and Harthwait simply by being a piece of my memories. The thought sent my skin crawling: Ivan had the pleasure of crawling into my mind because he was a section of that puzzle, no matter how ugly.
Saliva pooled in my mouth. Hatred. Shame. I wanted to rip the pieces up, cut them to shreds, and burn them. But I couldn’t. The best I could do was ignore it.
I thought of Emma, waiting at home, and how Sayer would be back to help. How they both would look at me with careful eyes, and that only reminded me how Ineededto be okay.
So I breathed in deep, and I pulled back onto the road.
Back home, I deposited the seedlings on the front porch—a project for another day—and unlocked the front door. By the time I stepped inside, I realized the foyer was dark. And that I’d unlocked the door.
Which I shouldn’t have had to do.
“Emma!” I called. “Are you hungry?”
Silence met me.
I poked my head into the living room. The sink light still spilled yellow over the sink; the refrigerator hummed in tandem with the AC unit. The TV, on mute, flickered over the walls, the ceiling, the ornate rugs. The grandfather clocktick-tick-ticked as I turned the foyer light on.
“Em?” I stepped back and shut the front door.
The house just felt so—big. I was used to an apartment. Not two floors of empty rooms. With furniture that I’d never use. I circled, glancing at the stairwell.
When no answer came, I took a peek in the office, left of the front door. A tiny book nook light glowed amber. That particular book nook resembled an alleyway in Italy: cobblestone streets, sand-colored buildings with moss latched to their clay-tiled roofs. It stood no taller than a dictionary. A dime-sized motion sensor blinked at the bottom—if I were to walk in front of it, it’d flicker the alleyway to life, before falling dark after a few moments.
Had it turned on when Aunt Cadence fell from her heart attack? Had it been during the day, or sometime at night?
Why was it on now, though?
A buzz caught my attention. Back at the foyer table, I dug through my purse. Hadn’t I turned my phone off?
Sure enough, three text messages, all within the last eight minutes.
EMMA:Dinner? I can get pizza. None of those casseroles looked appetizing.
EMMA:Or pasta.
EMMA:Carbs are good, just let me know before I leave the grocery store. You had no ravioli which is blasphemy so I’m at the store.
I leaned back against the handrail. It bit in between my shoulder blades, along all the knobs of my spine, as I typed back,Can you get some greens so I can make my smoothies.
Tick
I paused. Glanced up.
Then, it came again.
Tick
My heart started to flutter. My mouth watered with adrenaline. I stared at the very spot I’d stood in the foyer earlier today, except Sayer had been leaning where I was right now. I stared at the grandfather clock, waiting, just as the sound came again.
Tick
But the grandfather clock sangtick-tick-tick. Even, expected ticks. This sounded like a bug hitting a window, or—
