Chapter 3 - Ethan’s Forbidden House
Lily stared at the little girl.
“Say that again.”
The child squeezed her rabbit.
“Grandma Rose.”
Ethan slowly crouched so he wasn't towering over her.
“What's your name?”
“Emma.”
“Emma what?”
The girl looked uncertain.
“My mommy says Emma Claire Bennett.”
Lily's heart pounded.
“My grandmother was Rose Bennett.”
The child's eyes brightened slightly.
“I know.”
Lily felt the floor tilt beneath her.
“How?”
“Mommy has your picture.”
Ethan and Lily exchanged a look.
“Where is your mother?” Ethan asked.
Emma pointed downward.
“In the quiet room.”
“What quiet room?”
“Daddy says I'm not supposed to go there.”
Lily's instincts sharpened.
“Is your mommy hurt?”
Emma looked toward the hallway.
“I don't know.”
Thunder shook the house.
Ethan stood.
“We need to get everyone out before the water rises.”
He knelt again.
“Emma, can you show us where your mother is?”
The girl hesitated.
“He'll be mad.”
“Who?”
Emma didn't answer.
Lily crouched beside her.
“Sweetheart, nobody is going to be angry with you. We just need to make sure your mom is safe.”
Emma studied Lily's face.
Then the rabbit.
“You have Daisy.”
“Daisy?”
Emma pointed.
“That bunny. Mommy said her name was Daisy.”
Lily looked down at the stuffed animal she'd owned nearly her whole life.
No one had ever told her it had a name.
“How did your mommy know that?”
“Grandma Rose told her.”
Lily's hands began shaking.
Her grandmother Rose had died twelve years ago.
Whatever secrets she had carried were supposed to have died with her.
Apparently, they hadn't.
Emma took Lily's hand.
“This way.”
They followed her downstairs.
The water was now several inches higher.
Emma led them toward the kitchen.
Behind an old pantry door, Ethan discovered a narrow staircase descending below the house.
“The basement,” he whispered.
“I thought you remembered this house,” Lily said.
“I remember a basement.”
“But?”
“Not this entrance.”
Emma started downward.
Ethan caught her.
“No. I'll go first.”
The basement smelled of damp concrete.
Water seeped beneath the foundation.
Ethan's phone flashlight illuminated shelves, broken furniture, old jars.
At the far wall stood a newer steel door.
That didn't belong in a decaying abandoned house.
Ethan approached it.
Locked.
He looked around.
Emma pointed toward a hook.
“Key.”
Lily stared.
“Emma, who brings you here?”
“My daddy.”
“What's his name?”
Emma became quiet.
Ethan unlocked the door.
Inside was a surprisingly clean room.
A mattress.
Bottled water.
A small refrigerator.
Children's books.
And photographs.
Hundreds of photographs.
Most were of Lily.
Lily at fourteen.
Lily graduating college.
Lily at her first job.
Lily walking out of a supermarket.
Lily and Ethan together.
Her skin went cold.
“What the hell?”
Ethan moved in front of her instinctively.
Someone had been watching her for years.
“Mommy!” Emma cried.
A woman lay on a narrow bed behind a divider.
She looked to be in her early thirties.
Dark hair.
Pale complexion.
Exhausted eyes.
She sat up weakly when she saw them.
Then her gaze landed on Lily.
Her entire face crumpled.
“Lily.”
Lily froze.
“You know me.”
The woman began to cry.
“I've known you your whole life.”
“Who are you?”
“My name is Claire.”
Emma ran to her.
“Mommy.”
Claire hugged her daughter.
Lily stood several feet away.
“What is this place?”
Claire looked toward Ethan.
And fear flashed across her face.
“You're Ethan.”
He stared.
“Yes.”
“You came back.”
“Apparently everyone keeps saying that.”
Claire almost smiled through her tears.
Then she looked at Lily.
“You shouldn't have come here.”
“My grandmother gave me this rabbit. Your daughter says Rose was her grandmother too. There are pictures of me all over this room.”
Claire closed her eyes.
“I wanted to tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
“I wasn't allowed.”
“By whom?”
Before Claire could answer, a sound came from upstairs.
A door slammed.
Ethan turned.
Heavy footsteps crossed the kitchen.
Someone else was inside the house.
Claire panicked.
“He's back.”
“Who?”
She grabbed Ethan's sleeve.
“Do not let him see Emma.”
Ethan looked toward the stairway.
A man's voice called from above.
“Claire?”
Emma buried her face against her mother.
Lily whispered, “Who is that?”
Claire's answer came barely above a breath.
“My father.”
Ethan's expression changed.
Claire continued.
“And Ethan…”
She looked directly at him.
“You know him.”
Footsteps began descending.
Ethan moved between the stairs and the others.
The man appeared.
Late sixties.
Gray hair.
Broad shoulders despite his age.
For a moment, Ethan simply stared.
Then the man's face became clear in the phone light.
Ethan's entire body went rigid.
“No.”
The older man stopped halfway down.
“Hello, son.”
Lily looked between them.
Ethan's father had supposedly died six years ago.
Ethan whispered, “I buried you.”
The man smiled without warmth.
May you like
“No, Ethan.”
“You buried an empty coffin.”
