Chapter 28
Chapter 28: Clara’s Light
By October, the apple orchard had turned red.
The fruit was small and sour, not the kind you bought in the clean grocery stores in Connecticut, but Sophia liked them. She spent the afternoons with Clara in a carrier against her chest, picking the best ones from the lower branches to make applesauce in the kitchen that no longer smelled like old wool.
The house had a new coat of white paint. The back door had been reinforced by Henry with steel plates, but the front door—the one that faced the gravel road—was painted the same stark, brilliant blue as the house in Mystic.
"Too bright?" she asked Henry one Sunday as he carried a crate of wood for the winter.
"It’s very blue," Henry said, stopping to look at it. "Good."
Clara was six months old now. She had learned to sit up on the kitchen rug, her eyes wide and dark like Elise’s, watching the dust motes move through the afternoon light. She didn't flinch when the old stove popped. She didn't cry when the wind hit the windows. She had learned the sounds of the house, and she knew they were safe.
A blue sedan pulled into the driveway. Not Mara’s car. Not a government vehicle.
It was a small, dented Ford with an Ohio license plate. A woman in her thirties stepped out, wearing a nurse’s uniform and a heavy sweater against the autumn chill.
"Sophia Callahan?" she called out, standing by the blue door.
Sophia walked out, Clara resting against her hip. "Yes?"
"I’m Margaret’s sister," the woman said, her voice quiet, her eyes scanning the orchard before settling on Sophia. "Margaret sent me. She’s still in Connecticut, but she wanted me to give you this. She said she couldn't put it in the mail because Evelyn’s lawyers are still checking her accounts."
She handed Sophia a small leather journal, its corners burnt, its pages yellowed by time.
"What is it?" Sophia asked.
May you like
"It’s the medical log from the Whitmore estate," the woman whispered. "The private doctor, Dr. Hanes? He didn't delete the physical files before the FBI came. Margaret found them in the basement behind the wine cellar. It lists every injury you had since the wedding day, Sophia. And it lists three other women before you."
Sophia felt a cold drop of sweat slide down her spine despite the October wind. The machine hadn't just been broken; the old bones were still rising from the dirt.
