House of Darken (Secret Keepers #1)(5)

There was no bedding but that was okay. I had my own. Sara said that no matter how many houses you lived in, as long as you had clean, familiar sheets, and a secure roof over your head, you’d be okay. Personally, I wouldn’t have minded a sandwich and hot cocoa to go with that, but she was half right at least.

Stepping to the mattress, I wrinkled my nose as a slight smell of stale dampness assaulted me. Glancing up, it didn’t seem as if this room leaked, so hopefully it was just from sitting unused. If the increasing heaviness of the rain was any indication, we were in for a bit of a thrashing this night, so I’d find out soon enough on the leaking situation.

“How you getting on in here, Emma?”

Sara popped in, and seeing that I was in the middle of making the bed, strode over to help. It took us a few minutes to get my pale rose sheets on, throw a couple of pillows to the head of the bed, and finish with a simple white knit blanket over the top. Hopefully I’d be warm enough. Something told me we weren’t even remotely prepared for the weather here.

A crash of thunder rocked the house at the same time my stomach growled. I thought Sara looked at me closely, probably wondering if she’d heard right. She wasn’t used to me wanting food. My curves were long gone, grief and lack of interest whittling my frame down to one that was far too slim. I was just starting to get my appetite back. I really hoped my curvier figure would return with it.

“Are you hungry?” Sara said quietly. “I just realized we haven’t really eaten since lunch and those few other snacks. I can duck out and get you something.”

I shook my head, forcing a smile across my face. “No, it’s okay. I can wait for breakfast.”

She nodded a few times, her own smile looking forced too. “Mike will get up early to grab some essentials. You know him, always up with the birds.”

“You talking about me, woman?” Michael’s shout came from the living room, where he was no doubt trying to hide from the storm.

With a laugh, Sara turned to leave, a gleam in her eye that told me Michael was in trouble. She paused at my doorway to wink and blow me a kiss, before closing the door to give me privacy, which was my general request.

Sucking in a deep breath, I braced my hands on the dresser. Closing my eyes, it took me many moments to center myself and push off the sadness, the pressing ache in my chest that sometimes literally took my breath away and had me dizzy and shaking. I managed to keep up a happy fa?ade when I was around my guardians; they tried so hard and I knew my pain hurt them. I kept waiting for it to get easier, for the day I would wake up and be able to breathe again. The psychologist had said – during my five forced appointments right after my parents’ deaths – that only time could ease my agony. “Give it time,” he’d say, over and over.

Clearly, eight months was not enough time because I felt nothing but constant pain.

Miss you guys. Love you both so much.

A part of me hoped they were around, watching over me, that death wasn’t the end of it all, that there was something more. Something beyond. I needed to believe I’d see them again one day. We weren’t a religious family. Math and science had been our calling, but I was taking a leap of faith for the first time.

There was only one bathroom in this rental, so I gathered my toiletries and pajamas before opening my door and entering the green-tiled room.

Five minutes later I emerged shivering as I dashed to my room. “No hot water,” I yelled as I passed the living area.

I heard a few curses; most of them sounded like they were from Sara, but by this time I had already shut my door and was jumping into bed – which was not much warmer than the outside, but it was cozy at least. Despite the fact I’d only sat on my butt all day, I was exhausted. Tomorrow was a new day. I would hopefully explore the stunning little town that was to be my home for the next twelve months. Astoria. For the first time in a long time, I actually fell asleep with a sliver of positivity inside of me.





2





That night I slept solidly. When I woke, I opened my eyes to a dimly lit room, but lingered in bed for a few minutes, enjoying the warmth under the covers. The air was chilly on my nose and cheeks; it was definitely not summer weather here. The worst of the storm had died off during the night, but there was clearly no sun shining on the town of Astoria.

After enjoying the quiet for some time, I eventually stretched out, trying to ease the stiffness from my extremely crappy bed – pretty sure the mattress was filled with sand and rocks – and pulled myself up.

The minutest sounds of conversation drifted through the thin walls. Sara and Michael were awake, which hopefully meant food. As soon as I thought about eating, the hunger gnawing at my belly roared to life. A few gulps of water from the cup on my bedside subsided the cramps for a short time. I was getting pretty good at this minimal food thing. On top of grief killing my appetite, the Finnegans also forgot about food all the time. Neither of them were big eaters, focusing more on their crazy research. Team that with our limited money and there had been more than one night we all went to bed with empty bellies.

God, I missed my mom’s cooking, my dad’s laughter in the morning when he would read the papers and shout about politics and the world going to shit. I missed my family. I didn’t even have a place to visit them. The fire had burned so hot and fast that there was literally nothing left but ash. Some days I imagined they had escaped and were out in the world looking for me, but I knew that was just wishes and dreams. They would never have abandoned me. Which left only one logical conclusion. The fire had … taken them. The two empty graves back home signified their official deaths.