I had just begun to wonder where Kenneth and Naomi were when the back door slammed and Sarah came in, looking wild and flushed. She smelled of paint. “Did you do it?” she shouted at Rebecca.
At first I thought she was accusing Rebecca of murdering Stephen.
“Do what?” Rebecca asked.
“My paintings,” Sarah rasped, then burst into tears.
“Something happened to your paintings? Sarah, I’m so sorry.” Rebecca’s whole body had changed, had become attuned to her sister’s distress. There could be no doubt that Rebecca loved her younger sister, even if the feeling was not entirely returned.
Sarah bit her lower lip. “It must have happened in the night. They were fine yesterday, but just now I went in and saw they’d been torn to shreds. Stephen must have done it himself before he died. Bastard,” she swore.
If Stephen had done it, was it punishment for some misdeed of Sarah’s? Could the paintings have something to do with Stephen’s death? Or was it a coincidence that the two events had happened on the same day?
“I don’t think Stephen would have done that,” said Rebecca. “He—”
“It’s exactly what he would have done and you know it!” Sarah declared, shaking her fist. “He knew exactly how much my paintings meant to me and how to hurt me through them.”
“How many were destroyed? Were they torn or—” I stopped myself from asking if they’d been cut with a knife.
I was trying to think of a timeline. Joanna had been here at the main house that night around midnight. She had seemed to go back to her own house, but she could have gone to the shed. And Joanna hadn’t prophesied about a dark shadow over Stephen only. Joanna’s prophecy about Sarah and black and red—was that supposed to be paint? Could Joanna have been the vandal? Sarah hadn’t leaped to the conclusion, though, so I kept quiet.
“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Sarah spat. “The only thing that matters now is getting out of here. I’m taking the paintings that he didn’t destroy with me. And Talitha, since I brought her here with me. She doesn’t belong to him, either—she belongs to me.”
Talitha, bright and sensitive girl that she was, with Sarah, the bitter, callous mother? I shuddered at the thought.
“Sarah, please,” said Rebecca, looking at me.
Did she think I could help?
It only turned Sarah’s attention to me. “Do you know that Stephen took each of the other children away from me, nearly from the moment of their birth? He gave them to Rebecca because he said I was unfit to be their mother. He said I was too emotional.”
I’d been so curious about this lifestyle and now I began to wish that I didn’t know any of this, that I’d never become involved at all. It was too horrible.
“It wasn’t like that. He wanted me to help you, to watch over you,” said Rebecca. She had one hand outstretched to her sister, but she had not moved close enough to touch her. She feared being rebuffed, clearly.
“He told me over and over again that I was a terrible mother. And maybe I was. Maybe I still am. So you can have them. All the others. I’m only taking Talitha,” Sarah said furiously.
I wanted to say something, to do something, to end this terrible quarrel, but I couldn’t help but think about the possibility of Sarah’s guilt. She hadn’t known about the paintings, but she could have killed Stephen for other reasons, couldn’t she?
“I’m going to have my own life at last. And you can’t stop me!” Sarah declared, then stormed off upstairs in the direction of Talitha’s room.
Rebecca gave me a pleading look before she also disappeared upstairs, and I was left standing alone in the living room, my mind turning, unsure of any next step I should take.
Eventually I heard raised voices, including Naomi’s. Kenneth came downstairs. “Mom, do you know what’s going on? Talitha’s distraught. Her mother says she is taking her away. Naomi is refusing to let her go. She told Sarah she would take Talitha over her dead body.”
“There was an argument between Sarah and Rebecca,” I summed up for Kenneth.
“But Sarah can’t just make Talitha leave with her, can she? We have to stop her,” Kenneth insisted.
If the police were here, what would they say? But the police weren’t here. And Sarah was Talitha’s mother, biologically at least.
I sighed. “Does Talitha want to go with her?” Maybe she would be better off away from here. Though with volatile Sarah—I doubted it. What other choices did she have?
Kenneth grimaced. “She’s upstairs right now begging Naomi to let her stay here. She wants to be where her cat Lucy is buried.”
I hoped that didn’t mean that Sarah was going to disinter the cat’s body to take with them. “Sarah is Talitha’s mother. I’m not sure we can stop her,” I said. All Sarah had to do was threaten to call the police and Rebecca might well be willing to sacrifice one child to save the rest of the family. I hated to think about it that way, but she was the one who had put herself in this situation, even if I had helped her move forward with it.
“Don’t you think everyone should take some time to calm down and think this over?” Kenneth said.
That was a sensible suggestion. For a moment, I thought about offering to take Talitha home with me for a cooling-off period. Then she could have some space to make a decision about where she wanted to live without pressure from either side. And if only for a little while, I could be a mother again, which had always been my best skill. But Kurt and I had fought so terribly. It wasn’t a good time to bring a child into that.
“I’m going to ask Naomi if she thinks we should take Talitha in, at least for a while,” Kenneth said, his voice deep and gravelly. “What do you think?”
I was stunned, and then very proud of him. He’d had a few doubts about Naomi and her family just a few hours ago, but he had moved past them. Talitha would be much better off with her favorite sister.
“I think that is very noble of you, Kenneth,” I said, struggling against tears.
He rolled his eyes. “Not noble, Mom. I love Naomi, and I love Talitha, too. Naomi has practically been Talitha’s mother ever since she was born. Sarah doesn’t have a maternal bone in her body.”
No, I thought. Sarah wasn’t a mother in spirit. She was still a child herself, whatever her age.
“Are you going to stay for the funeral?” asked Kenneth.
“I’m staying until I find out who murdered Stephen.” For the mothers, and for me. As for Kurt, he would have to wait for me to come home and figure out things with him.