“He’s a sweetie,” Niki said, rubbing under his chin. “His name is Sarge?”
“Short for Sargent Snuggles.”
“Perfect.” Niki nodded in approval.
They continued on, Sharon pointing out the front entrance and circling around until they ended up in her bedroom with its adjacent bathroom. She walked through, opening the door to the bathroom. Sharon had a well-practiced routine that she usually did when giving guests the tour, a sort of apology for the size of the rooms, and out of habit, she began to explain. “Not very big, but it’s just me and—”
Niki let go of her suitcase for the first time and looked around the room, spellbound. “I think this is the most beautiful bathroom I’ve ever seen.” She leaned over and peered at the honeycomb tile floor.
“Really?”
Niki stood up and nodded. “So pretty. And you have it all to yourself.” She ran a finger over the granite countertops and looked up at the tulip-shaped pendant lights, an antique fixture that Sharon loved as much for its appearance as for the rosy glow it cast over the room. “You must love living here.”
“I do. A lot of people my age are looking at assisted living apartments. I guess there are advantages to that kind of thing, but I’d rather stay here as long as I can.”
“If I had this house, I’d never move.”
Sharon smiled. “That’s how I feel.”
Niki nodded and then turned to face her. “So if I’m going to be on the couch, where should I put my stuff? In the laundry room?”
It took Sharon a moment to realize what Niki was saying. “Oh no, you’re not sleeping on the couch. You can have Amy’s old room upstairs. Come along. I’ll take you up.” She led the way, opening a door that was the entrance to the narrow wooden staircase. At one time this had led to a walk-up attic, but the previous owners had converted it into two bedrooms and a bathroom. The bigger room had been Amy’s; the other they used for storage. The junk room was what they called it. Sharon explained all this as they climbed the stairs. When they got to Amy’s room, she was relieved to find it tidy and dust free, the bed made and nothing cluttering the floor or the top of the dresser. Amy must have cleaned the last time she stayed over. “Just make yourself at home. The dresser should be empty.”
Niki left her suitcase next to the bed and walked over to the window.
“You have a view of the backyard,” Sharon said, joining her and pointing. “Nothing too exciting.”
“Who lives in that house?” Niki asked. From this height, they could see into the backyard and look directly into one of the upstairs windows. Sharon hadn’t been up here in ages and had forgotten that the second story afforded so much of a view.
“The Flemings. A couple with a teenage son and a little dog.”
“You know them?”
“No, we’ve never met. I just see them sometimes, and I’ve driven past their house.”
“Oh.”
“I did notice something kind of weird about them just last night.” Sharon had not planned on bringing this up, but the words just popped out.
“Weird how?”
She shrugged. “It might be nothing, but I was in the yard last night around eleven to see the lunar eclipse.” Sharon paused, and when Niki didn’t respond, she plowed forward. “And I saw a little girl washing dishes at the kitchen sink. A really little girl, like five or six? Looked to me like she was standing on a step stool. It struck me as odd because they don’t have a daughter, at least not that I’ve seen.” She found it difficult to read Niki’s face. Did she just think she was an old busybody with nothing better to do than spy on the neighbors?
“And even if they did have a daughter, why would she be washing dishes at eleven at night?” Niki said, finishing her thoughts.
“Exactly,” Sharon said. “I was thinking maybe they had houseguests, but even then why would she be doing dishes?”
Niki nodded, weighing her words.
Sharon added, “And then I saw Mrs. Fleming come in, and it was just for a split second, but she looked furious. She yanked on the little girl’s arm, and then I couldn’t see them anymore.”
“Sounds like a foster child to me,” Niki said.
“I don’t think they have a foster child,” Sharon said, then realized she didn’t really know much about the family at all.
“They could have one and you might not know it,” Niki said. “It fits what you saw. A little kid washing dishes late at night. She was probably being punished, and then she got in more trouble for not doing it right.”
“No . . . ,” Sharon said, shocked. “I can’t believe someone would treat a child that way.”
Niki laughed, a bark of derision. “Believe it. Happens all the time.”
“But one that small? I mean, she looked like a little tiny girl.”
“Absolutely.” Niki’s eyes narrowed. “I could tell you stories.”
Sharon could hear Amy’s words echoing in her head. Nikita’s gone through hell. All she needs is a room and a little support. Just someone to be in her corner, to let her know she matters.
Such a simple thing and not much to ask for. Not much at all.
Sharon said, “I took pictures on my phone. Would you mind taking a look and telling me what you think?” Without waiting for a response, she got out her phone and scrolled to the clearest image.
Niki took the phone from her outstretched hand. She stared at the screen for a moment and then swiped to see the other images, finally landing back on the one Sharon had first offered. Her face colored with sympathy. “Poor little thing.” She looked up and met Sharon’s eyes. “Someone needs to help her.”
“You think so?” Hearing someone else say what she’d been thinking was unnerving. “I had the same thought, but I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t witness anything abusive, just odd. And I don’t know the family.”
“It’s a hard call,” Niki said.
“Do you think I should call someone?”
“You mean like child protective services?”
“Yeah, like that.”
Niki twisted her mouth in thought and then shook her head. “There’s no abuse that you can prove. And you don’t even know who this kid is. It might turn out to be nothing.”
“But it seems like something,” Sharon said.
“I think so too.”
“So what to do?”
“Get to know them and watch. Trust me, if it seems odd, there’s probably something wrong. When you know more, when you have more actual information, then you can report them. If you do it too soon, you give them a chance to cover it up.” Niki sounded like she spoke from personal experience, making Sharon wonder yet again what she had gone through.
“Good advice.” Sharon peered through the window, but there was no one in sight and nothing to point to a problem in the Fleming household. She felt better having told Niki. Two sets of eyes were better than one.
Chapter Five
“Mia! Mia, where are you?” Coming from the direction of the front door, Ma’am’s voice sliced through the room. Mia, who’d crawled into the space between the couch and the wall, scrambled out. So far, no one knew about her hiding spot, and she wanted to keep it that way. When Mister was traveling, and Jacob was in his room or at school, and Ma’am was gone or busy, the spot behind the couch had become her place to just be, undisturbed. Of course there was her room in the basement, but she wasn’t allowed to go down there until the end of the day, the reason being that she had to stay within calling distance. Sometimes seeing her idle reminded the family of something that needed doing, so if she stayed out of sight she could have a few moments of peace. Ma’am didn’t like her on the furniture, and sitting on the stairs all the time was tiring. Being able to hide behind the couch helped, as long as she stayed alert. She still had to come when her name was called or there would be trouble.
And if Ma’am discovered she hid back there, punishment was sure to follow.
“Here, Ma’am.” Mia came out of the living
room, meeting her in the front hall. Griswold, Mia’s faithful canine companion, trotted at her heels. Mia took Ma’am’s purse and keys, then turned to put them away: the keys on a hook in the kitchen, and the purse in the linen closet, a place Ma’am believed burglars would never think to look.
Behind her, Mia heard the thunk of Ma’am kicking off her high heels. She knew her next chore would be to retrieve them and put them on the shoe rack in Ma’am and Mister’s closet. First, though, they’d have to be inspected. If the soles were dirty, Mia would be expected to clean them, and if they were scuffed, she would need to polish them. Ma’am was very fussy about her things.
“Oh, what a day I’ve had, Mia!” Ma’am’s voice had a weary air. “I had to wait for an hour at the doctor’s office, and then he wouldn’t even listen to me. After that, I had to stop and look at fabric samples at the upholsterer’s, and that was your basic nightmare. Traffic was terrible, so I nearly missed my nail appointment. And then my friend was late meeting me at the restaurant for dinner. I’m completely frazzled. Believe me, I’ll never schedule so much in one day again. You’re lucky to be able to stay home all the time.”
Mia answered from the kitchen. “Yes, Ma’am.” She stood on tiptoe to put the keys on the hook. She had been proud when she’d first realized that she’d grown tall enough to do it without using the stool. That’s how she knew she’d changed since arriving at the Flemings’ house three Christmases ago. She could look at herself in the mirror, of course, but she didn’t like the way she looked. Ma’am cut her hair short in what Jacob called a Dora the Explorer hairstyle. So often she wished for longer hair, but every time it grew even a little bit, Ma’am got out the shears and chopped it all off.
It hadn’t always been so short. Once Ma’am had gotten impatient when combing it out after it was washed and said that Mia’s long hair was too much trouble. After that, the regular haircuts began. If only she had pictures, she could see exactly how it had looked back then and how much she’d changed in the meantime, but Ma’am had made it clear that photos of Mia were forbidden. Once Jacob had taken a photo of her with his phone and added bunny ears and a nose, which made her look so cute and funny too. He’d warned her not to tell his mother, saying, “If you do, you’ll be sorry.”
Sometimes Jacob said he would crush her, or throw her out in the yard face-first. He never did either of these things, but sometimes, when Ma’am berated him, she saw a change in Jacob, an anger simmering under the surface. To her, he was mostly nice, letting her have snacks when his mom wasn’t around since she often did his chore of picking up the dog poop in the yard. She didn’t mind. Griswold usually came with her and led the way, proudly showing her just what she needed to pick up. Silly little dog.
Mia went to put Ma’am’s handbag in the linen closet, tucking it next to the hand towels, then straightened the towels to keep them orderly. Next she went to retrieve Ma’am’s shoes. She was relieved to see that the bottoms were clean and they didn’t need polishing. That was one advantage to winter. Walking through snow kept Ma’am’s soles from getting dusty or splattered with mud.
In the kitchen, Ma’am yelled, “Mia, come here right now!”
Mia hurried to the doorway, a shoe in each hand. “Yes, Ma’am.” As usual, Griswold trotted at her heels. Jacob always said that he was Mia’s shadow.
“Did you finish the laundry and put it away?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Clean the upstairs bathroom and wash the kitchen floor?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Refill the soap dispensers and empty the wastebaskets?”
“Yes, Ma’am.” Mia was proud to have gotten all of it done, and in record time, too, not that Ma’am cared how long it took.
“Where is Jacob?” Ma’am glanced over Mia’s head as if her son might come around the corner at any second. This was unlikely to happen, especially if Jacob knew she was home. Mia had once overheard him talking on the phone to a friend, saying that he hoped his parents would get a divorce, and if that happened, he’d go live with his father.
Mia pointed upward, indicating that Jacob was in his room. Jacob was a senior in high school this year. When he was in his room, his parents always assumed he was studying. She knew better.
“Did he make dinner for the two of you?”
Mia nodded. “Yes, Ma’am.” To Mia’s delight, he’d served chicken nuggets, french fries, and applesauce. Not only had Jacob served this feast, he’d also let her sit at the dining room table with him and had allowed her to use as much ketchup as she wanted. He’d been looking at his phone the whole time, so he hadn’t even noticed that she’d dropped a few choice bits of chicken to Griswold. If only dinner could be like that every night.
“Very good. I’ll let you off early, then. You can put my shoes away and head downstairs.”
“Yes, Ma’am.” Trying to hide her glee, Mia walked up the stairs and carefully set the shoes in the rack in Ma’am’s walk-in closet. Once downstairs, she passed by the kitchen, where Ma’am was pouring herself a glass of wine.
“Goodnight, Mia.”
“Goodnight, Ma’am.”
“Remember that tomorrow morning you can come up for breakfast, but then you’ll have to go back down to your room. Not a peep from you.” Ma’am inserted the cork back into the opening of the bottle and opened the refrigerator door. “The man is coming to install new blinds in the kitchen, and I’ll need you to be quiet as a mouse. Understand?”
Mia nodded. The blinds had been lowered over the window as long as she could remember, blocking the sunlight and her view of the backyard. When the blinds broke—the top piece falling out of the bracket—Ma’am had blamed her, but it wasn’t her fault. Mister had come to her defense. “The girl can’t even reach the lever. There’s no way she broke it.” He winked at Mia, something she wasn’t sure about. It made her think they were getting away with something, but what that could be she didn’t know. She had no idea what had happened with the blinds. One day they were mounted over the window, and the next the blinds were laid neatly on the counter. Jacob, probably.
Ma’am stared at her over the rim of her wineglass. “The dog stays here. I’ll be down in a minute to tuck you in.”
“Yes, Ma’am.” Mia held out a hand for Griswold to stay, and then she went down the stairs, happy at this turn of events. She had the rest of the evening to herself and part of tomorrow morning too. At the bottom of the stairs, she crossed the basement, going straight for the back corner to what Jacob called her secret compartment. “It’s super cool,” he’d told her. “I don’t know anyone else who has a hidden room.”
She was lucky that way.
The basement walls had been covered with light-colored wood paneling; the floors looked like hardwood but actually had a plastic-like grooved surface. When she’d first come to live with the Flemings, Ma’am had let her sleep in the extra bedroom upstairs.
The problem had begun when Ma’am had realized they needed a safe place to put her when company came over. After a few months, Ma’am had had a clever idea. She’d had a man come and build a wall on the far side, and behind the wall he’d made a room. Mia’s room. A bookcase on wheels disguised the door. All the books were attached, and there was a small lock on one side of the middle shelf to secure the door from the outside. If the bookcase was in place, it looked like that wall was where the room ended. No one would ever be able to tell that Mia’s room was back there.
Best yet, the bathroom was nearby. Mia’s room and the bathroom combined made an L shape on that end of the basement. She was the only one who used that bathroom, really, so it was like it was her own space.
Mia had heard Ma’am talking to the man, telling him that the room was a place to store something valuable. Something valuable. She’d turned this phrase over in her mind, pleased to be considered this way. The notion had been dashed when she’d repeated the story to Jacob. “She wasn’t talking about you,” he’d said. “That’s just something she told the guy
.”
Jacob knew things because he was close to being a grown-up, while Mia was still little. She had recently asked Jacob why she didn’t have birthdays like everyone else, and he had explained that it was because they didn’t know when she was born. “We think you’re about six or seven,” he’d said. “If I knew for sure, I would tell you.”
After the builder man was done, she wound up with her very own bedroom, which was, as Ma’am liked to remind her, a major pain to have built. It had cost a lot of money, and they’d done it just for her. She had a dresser and a cot and an old TV that Mister had given her when Ma’am got a new one for their room. It only got a few channels, and the picture was terrible, but it was better than nothing. She was careful to keep the volume low so that Ma’am wouldn’t have a reason to take it away from her. The TV was her only link to the outside world, and she learned a lot by watching the news and PBS. She had figured out how to read from Sesame Street, a secret she never shared with anyone else. Once she knew the sounds of the letters, it was easy to figure out the words in the books Jacob had given her, the ones left over from when he was a little kid. She hid them in one of the drawers in her dresser, unsure if Ma’am would allow her to keep them.
Mia went into the bathroom and washed her face and brushed her teeth, hurrying so that she’d be finished when Ma’am came down to tuck her in for the night. By the time she heard Ma’am’s footsteps on the stairs, she had pulled the bookcase as far as she could, changed into her nightshirt, and climbed into her cot, pulling the sheet up to her chin.
“All set, Mia?” Ma’am’s voice rang out from the other side of the doorway.
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Okay then.” Ma’am pushed the bookcase until it was secure in the doorjamb, and the room went dark. A second later, the lock clicked shut, tucking her in for the night.
The Moonlight Child Page 3
