Before he could say anything else, Lily spun around and strode purposefully up the sidewalk as if she always walked around clad in her pajamas and blankets in the dead of winter. Go away, she thought. Leave us alone. A moment later, she heard the truck speed off. Lily put Sky down, then knelt beside her so they were eye to eye.
“I know you’re scared, Chicken. But I need you to be brave for a little bit longer. Okay?”
“Okay, Mommy,” Sky whispered softly.
Lily was constantly amazed by how sweet and obedient this child was. She hugged Sky tightly and stood up. Lily instinctively reached for the doorknob. She wanted the door to open. She wanted to be sixteen all over again, rushing in, sweaty and out of breath from her early-morning run. Abby would breeze past her, hollering, “Shotgun shower.” Lily would act annoyed, but secretly, she loved having one-on-one time with her father before he rushed off to the hospital for his morning rounds. But that was wishful thinking. In real life, the door was always locked.
Lily knocked softly at first. There was a chance her family didn’t even live here. They could have moved years ago, started over without her. Lily knew it was a possibility, but deep down, she didn’t think that would ever happen. If the situation were reversed, Lily would never leave their home, not without Abby. She continued knocking, harder and harder until her hands ached.
“Jesus Christ, hold your darn horses.”
The voice was so familiar that Lily’s tears began to fall instantly. A moment later the porch light flipped on and the door swung open. There was an endless pause as the older woman gaped at Lily. Mouth open, eyes wide, she was staring at Lily as if she were a ghost. Lily realized that until that very moment, that’s exactly what she was.
Crying was unacceptable. That’s what Rick always said. But in that moment, Lily forgot everything he’d beaten into her, all the lies he’d told her. In that moment, the broken girl in the basement ceased to exist. With tears streaming down her face, Lily thrust herself into her mother’s arms.
“Mom, it’s me. I’m home.”
CHAPTER FOUR
EVE
Eve was trying to process what was happening. It wasn’t possible that this young, pajama-clad girl, with her sunken features and hollow eyes, was crying and calling her Mom. Was it? Could this really be her Lily?
Maybe it’s a dream, Eve thought. She dreamt every night. Some nights the dreams were an endless loop of horrific images: Lily’s body, bloody, battered, and bruised, her eyes hollowed out, skeletal hands reaching for Eve. “Help me, Mommy! Save me. Please!”
Sometimes Eve’s baby girl visited with hopeful eyes and kind words. “Mommy, I love you. I miss you. I’m okay.” Those nights were the worst. The nights that Eve woke feeling hopeful, believing in the impossible, that her Lily might actually be alive. Maybe that’s all this was, she told herself as she stared at this girl. Maybe it’s one of those wishful-thinking dreams.
But the girl was still clutching Eve, holding on to her so tightly and weeping. Eve could feel the girl’s sharp edges. She was flesh and blood and calling Eve Mom.
Eve wrenched herself away. She needed to get a better look, needed to make sure this wasn’t some sicko’s twisted ploy. There were cruel people out there, people who had, in the past, attempted to exploit Eve’s weakness and vulnerability. People that sent letters, asking for money, promising answers that never came. She’d believed them before. This time she wouldn’t allow herself to be duped.
She gazed into the girl’s eyes—deep pools of green—and Eve was transported to the delivery room, the moment she met her two identical twin daughters. There was no denying it now. Those were Lily’s eyes. A mother never forgets her child’s eyes.
It was Lily. She was home. Lily was home.
For eight years Eve had waited for answers. Days passed. Weeks. Months. Endless years. Back in the early days, when Eve was still a sheep who believed in a higher power, she’d prayed for closure, begging God to bring her Lily back to her. Even a body was better than the emptiness or those ghastly images her subconscious conjured up. But this was real. Eve was standing here, on her porch, staring back at her long-lost child.
Eve heard a whimper. She’d been so focused on Lily that she hadn’t noticed the child standing beside her. Maybe three or four years old, she was pale with bright green eyes and a matching expression of pure terror. God, the resemblance to Lily was uncanny. Lily was a mother? She’d had a daughter? Where had they been all these years? What in God’s name had kept them away for so long? There were so many questions surging through Eve’s brain she didn’t even know where to begin. She opened her mouth but no sound came out.
“Mom, can we come in? Please?” Lily whispered.