All the Little Lights(101)

“That’s awful. Why does she travel with him?”

“He comes here for work. Poppy doesn’t have a mother.”

“Poor kid.”

I squirmed.

“Who else?”

“When Althea stays, she helps me cook and clean, and she always gives great advice. She’s the one who told me to forgive you.”

“Smart lady,” Elliott said with a smile.

“Then my uncle Toad and cousin Imogen come sometimes, but not as often as the others. After last time, Mama told Uncle Toad he couldn’t come back for a while.”

“Uncle Toad?”

I shrugged. “If he looks like a toad and sounds like a toad . . .”

“Is he your mom’s brother or dad’s brother? Or someone’s sister’s husband?”

“I don’t know,” I said, looking up at the ceiling in thought. “I’ve never asked.”

Elliott chuckled. “That’s weird.”

“It’s all weird, trust me.”

The room was dark, and the Juniper was quiet except for Willow’s occasional pacing and the cars driving down our street. The dresser was against the door and the bed against the dresser, so I barely worried about guests wandering into my room at night anymore. I leaned down to gently kiss Elliott’s swollen lip.

“Is that okay?” I asked.

“It’s always okay.”

I lay down on Elliott’s chest, listening to his heartbeat. It sped up for a few seconds before finally settling down. He hugged me to him, his voice low and soothing.

“Christmas break, then Christmas, then New Year’s, then the last semester of high school. You turn eighteen in just over a month.”

I blinked. “Wow. It doesn’t seem possible.”

“Still plan on staying here?”

I thought about his question. Eighteen had felt like it would never come. Now that it was here and I felt so safe and warm in Elliott’s arms, my resolve was wavering.

“Hesitation is good,” he said.

I pinched his side, and he let out an almost silent yelp. His fingers found the ticklish spot on my ribs, and I squealed. I covered my mouth, my eyes wide.

We chuckled until the doorknob turned.

“Catherine?” Willow said.

I froze, feeling fear burrow a hole in my chest and spread through my veins. It took every bit of courage I could muster to speak.

“I’m in bed, Willow. What do you need?” I asked.

The door rattled again. “What’s in front of the door?”

“My dresser?”

She pushed at the door again. “Why?”

“Because I don’t have a lock, and the guests think they can just walk in.”

“Let me in!” she whined.

It took me a few seconds to gain the courage, but the alternative was worse. “No. I’m in bed. Go away.”

“Catherine!”

“I said go away!”

The doorknob released, and Willow’s footsteps sounded farther away as she made her way back down the hall.

I let my head fall against Elliott’s chest, finally exhaling like I’d been underwater. “That was too close.”

He hugged me to him, the warmth of his arms helping my heart rate return to normal. “She’s definitely from the Chicago area.”

I leaned back against Elliott’s chest, keeping my gaze on the door.

“Are you going to stare at it until morning?” he asked.

“Elliott, if she comes in . . .”

He waited for me to finish a truth that wouldn’t come. “Say it. Tell me.”

I frowned, everything inside me screaming not to say the words. “They’re going to try to keep me here. Mama. The guests.”

“Why?”

“More questions,” I said, already miles outside of comfort.

“Catherine,” he prompted, “what is going on here? What are they doing?”

I bit on my bottom lip and then moved into a new position. “The new guests . . . they don’t leave. Sometimes I find their suitcases in the basement, their toiletries still in their rooms. We don’t have guests other than the regulars very often, but . . .”

Elliott was quiet for a long time. “How long has this been happening?”

“Not long after we opened.”

“What happens to them? The new guests.”

I shrugged, feeling tears sting my eyes.

Elliott hugged me to his chest. He was quiet for a long time. “Has anyone come looking?”

“No.”

“Maybe it’s something else. Maybe the regulars are just stealing from them.”

“Maybe.”

“You’ve never seen anyone leave?”

“Not anyone who’s come alone.”

He sighed, holding me close. Eventually, my eyes felt heavy, and no matter how hard I tried to watch for shadows in the light that slipped under the door, blackness surrounded me, and I tumbled backward into the dark.

When my eyes opened again, Elliott was gone. The winter birds were chirping in the bright sun, and the wind was silent for a change. I dressed for school, and just as I pulled my hair back into a ponytail, I heard plates clattering in the kitchen, and the fire alarm began to bleat. I scrambled downstairs, stopping when I saw the chaos in the kitchen. Mama was struggling to put a breakfast together, the smell of burned bacon mixing with the smoke in the air.