The Word Game (9 page)

“I know.” Tricia hiccupped. “Alyson just . . . she just . . .” She couldn’t even say it. She breathed in deep, steadying herself before she pushed herself up and wiped the tears from her face.

She kept her gaze down, embarrassed that Mark had caught her crying. She hated crying. It was a sign of weakness, and Tricia was anything but weak. She didn’t fall apart like this, didn’t lose herself in her emotions, didn’t allow herself to go back to those dark days when all she’d wanted to do was disappear.

Mark didn’t say anything, and for that, Tricia was grateful. She stood up and gathered the towels and placed them in the closet in the hallway, and by the time she returned to the bedroom, she felt calmer, more in control.

“Are you ready to talk?” Mark still sat on the bed, waiting for her.

“Alyson thinks there’s a lot more that happened last night than just the girls sneaking out to see the boys.”

“More as in . . . ?”

“You don’t want to know.” Tricia shook her head.

“Tell me.”

“Did you notice anything this morning, anything odd between Katy and Keera? Or anything odd about Keera for the past few months?” Mark, despite being a guy, was pretty observant when it came to their children. If she’d missed anything, he might have picked up on it.

He shook his head. “Other than the extra whispers?”

“There was a lot of that, wasn’t there? Probably girl secrets or inside jokes.” Her stomach twisted. Girl secrets? Was it possible?

“What does that have to do with your sister?”

“Alyson thinks that something happened at the sleepover—something that shouldn’t have happened.”

Tricia proceeded to fill Mark in on what her sister had told her, as well as what was going on with Myah and Eddie. It felt good to talk it through, to see if there were any connections.

They both sat there, and a heavy silence permeated the room.

“We need to talk to Katy.”

Tricia jolted to her feet. “I’ll do it.”

“I was going to work on that fireplace mantel some more. I don’t need to be here.” With puppy-dog eyes full of fear, he looked up at Tricia. “You don’t need me here, right?”

“I’ve got this.” She hoped she had this. Except she had no clue how to handle this at all.

Tricia headed to her daughter’s room, where she found Katy lying on her bed, headphones covering her ears while she watched the latest episode of
Step It Up
, the latest dancing show for young teens, on her tablet.

“Hey, Katy?” She closed the door behind her and sat down on the bed, close to her daughter’s feet.

“What’s up, Mom?”

“Can we talk?”

“This isn’t about last night again, is it?” Katy rolled her eyes.

“I need to ask you a question.”

“Okay.” Katy sat up and turned the power off on the tablet, and set her headphones down around her neck. “What’s up?”

“We’ve talked before about protecting our bodies and knowing when something is wrong. Right?” She waited for Katy’s nod and ignored the confused look in her eyes. “Did anything . . . odd happen last night that shouldn’t have?”

“Um, no.”

The look on her daughter’s face said only one thing—
What is wrong with you?

Tricia sighed. “I just need to ask one more time about the videos and games. You guys behaved, right? Is there anything you might have forgotten to tell me earlier? Like . . . watched something you shouldn’t have or played a game that—”

“No, Mom.” Katy rolled her eyes. “We didn’t play board games. We did the usual sleepover stuff.”

Tricia latched on to that. She understood sleepover stuff.

“Like what? Truth or dare?” Please let that be all they played—and a clean, childlike version of it.

Katy shrugged. “Something like that.”

Tricia’s heart sank. Maybe Alyson was right after all.

“Was anyone blindfolded while playing a game?”

Katy’s eyes widened before she shook her head. “No. Why would you ask that?” Katy jumped up from the bed and headed to her closet, where she grabbed a sweater and pulled it on.

“You cold?” Tricia asked. She eyed her daughter, who was wearing jogging capris and a tank top.

Katy shrugged before she sat back down, folding her legs beneath her.

“So there were no blindfolds involved in any games played?” Tricia asked again, changing the words slightly to make sure her daughter understood the question.

“No, Mom. No blindfolds. Seriously, why would you even ask that?”

Tricia studied her daughter and felt okay with her answer. So okay, no blindfolds. Was anything else about Lyla’s story true then? Should she push harder to find out if there was more, or just trust that Katy spoke the truth?

“What about the videos though?”

“So we watched some videos.”

“Did you watch any videos that were improper? And I’m not talking about just for you, but for Lyla as well.” She gave her daughter a pointed look. She realized the girls were ten, but what was appropriate for Katy was not always okay for Lyla, as sad as that was. In fact, Tricia doubted if Alyson even let Lyla watch music videos unless they were the Wiggles or something meant for preschool children.

Katy shrugged. “Knowing Lyla, probably. It was like everyone on my music list and stuff.”

Tricia let out a long breath. This she could handle. She knew Katy’s music list because she downloaded the songs or albums for her. And it was true that at least half of the songs Alyson would not like Lyla listening to.

“Did you guys dance and stuff?” There was a smile in her voice because she was trying to picture her girls doing dance routines in the small bedroom.

Katy nodded. “We practiced some moves from class, and then Keera showed us some her parents had taught her. She wasn’t sure if she should, because . . . well, because of Lyla. But honestly, she needs to learn to handle this stuff. You know?”

“I get it. I do. Want to hear a story?” She started to laugh at the memory that came to mind and couldn’t wait to see how her daughter reacted.

“When I was young, probably a few years older than you, I used to play these games at sleepovers where we’d see how far we could push ourselves or each other. And we’d tell stories. In fact, that’s when I first learned a friend of mine had had sex with her—”

“Stop!” Katy covered her ears with her hands and groaned. “Please, we are not talking about that right now. How gross can you be?”

She leaned over and gave her daughter a hug. “Sorry,” she said as she squeezed. “Kittens and unicorns, that’s what we used to talk about.” She chuckled as Katy’s face bloomed bright red.

“You’re so weird,” Katy said.

Tricia breathed in deep before she placed a soft kiss on her daughter’s forehead. “I know. Mom’s tend to be like that.” She squeezed her daughter again before letting go.

“Your dad is in the garage. What do you say you and I go raid your father’s chocolate stash he tried to keep hidden in the mudroom and then watch a movie? I think I saw one saved on the DVR from last week you wanted to see.”

Katy shook her head. “His stash is empty. I already checked. And I watched that movie already and deleted it.”

“What?” His stash was empty? Since when?

“Yeah, I checked last night. All that was in there was an empty wrapper and a note.”

“What was on the note?”

Katy started to giggle.

“What’s so funny?” Tricia narrowed her gaze as she tried to think about what the note could say. Knowing Mark . . .

“It said,
Check Mom’s closet for her secret stash. Large black purse behind wedding dress. I’m all out.
”

Tricia groaned before shooting to her feet and heading toward her closet, with Katy close behind her.

He wasn’t supposed to have known about that spot. He’d found all her other ones, but this one was new. Or newer at least. And yet, when she pulled back her dress and reached for the purse, she knew right away he’d not only found it but emptied it.

She looked inside anyway and found a note. She didn’t need to pull it out to read what it said since it wasn’t folded.

Gotcha.

CHAPTER TWELVE

ID
A

Saturday afternoon

Ida walked past the crowded grocery store parking lot and made her way toward the quaint downtown core where her favorite deli, produce, and bakeshops were located.

She’d left Gordon at the Legion to meet up with his friends before dinner and play a hand of cards, or whatever it is he does there. It keeps him happy, out of her hair, and gives her an hour of freedom. She’d join him for dinner there, as they did every Saturday evening before heading home to watch something on the television while she knitted. She liked routine, and their Saturday routine was just fine.

She pushed open the door of the deli and was assaulted by the loud voice of Gunther Erhard, the owner of the deli, talking to another customer in German.

“Er dachte das Fleisch im Supermarkt sei Müll.”
He thought the meat at the grocery store was garbage. It was one of his favorite subjects—comparing his supplies to that of his brother’s store next door.

“Ratet mal wo die Frau meines Bruders ihr Fleisch kauft
? Me. Ha
! Was hat das wohl zu bedeuten?”
Guess where my brother’s wife buys her meat? What does that tell you? Gunther pounded his chest.

“It tells me she understands the value of small business owners in our town,” Ida spoke up. She liked Hilda, Randolf’s wife. “Randolf understands the importance as well, and you know that.”

Ida perused the meat selection and thought about maybe trying something new rather than sticking with her regular order.

“You’ll try the sausages. It’s a new recipe, and Gordon will enjoy the garlic I added.” As if Gunther read her mind, he’d already pulled out four sausage links and set them on the scale to be weighed.

“I’ll get my usual too,” Ida said.

“Of course you will. Did that old man of yours stay home today?” Gunther had his back turned while he was packaging up her meat and cheese.

“I dropped him off at the Legion.”

“Men like us, we don’t retire. He needs something to do, not waste his time there playing cards and drinking beer. I’ve got a project for him if he’s interested. Are you heading to the Legion for dinner or shopping a bit?”

“Shopping.”

Gunther nodded and placed her bag in a cooler behind him, on the bottom shelf. “I’ll keep this for you then. Make sure to tell Gordon what I said. Remember, I close on the hour.”

“I’ll let him know.” She paid, and then took the slice of meat he offered as a little snack. She waved good-bye before heading down the street to her next destination.

She was going to the café at the end of the street but decided to stop in at a little novelty store full of knickknacks and antiques. There wasn’t really anything she needed, but she had the time to waste, and she never knew what she’d find in the store.

Claudia Teering stood on a small ladder, an apron wrapped around her waist, and was dusting the books that ran along the top shelf.

“Don’t you have a granddaughter or a worker who can do that for you?” Ida stood there, watching her old friend dust, and frowned.

“I’m almost done.” Claudia smiled at her, gave another twirl of the duster in her hand, and then carefully made her way down the ladder. “It’s a slow day, and I need to keep busy,” she said before giving Ida a hug. “If I’d known you were coming in, I’d have put on a pot of tea.”

Ida glanced around the store. “I thought you closed up your tea spot after the summer?” In the far back, Claudia had set up some tables and chairs and offered fresh baked goods she’d bought from the bakery down the street as well as tea.

“I decided to open it on the weekends for a few loyal locals.” She winked at Ida, who instantly felt guilty because she had planned on heading down to the café for a cup of tea and a scone.

“Do you have time?” Claudia asked.

“Of course.” She followed Claudia. “I’m just going to look around while you get the tea ready.”

“Take your time,” Claudia said. “I had a new shipment come in from my cousin down east. She sent up some good finds.” Claudia pointed to a shelf off to the side, so that’s where Ida headed.

She casually looked at the antique pots, bowls, and glasses but didn’t see anything that caught her eye, so she browsed the rest of the room before heading toward the back, where Claudia dished up scones and set out two cups of tea.

“How about that recital last night?” Claudia’s granddaughter was also in Myah’s dance class.

“It was very sweet.” Ida couldn’t have been more proud of her girls than she had been last night.

“I spoke to Sarah this morning after the sleepover—sounded like she had a good time.” Despite her words, there was a look on Claudia’s face Ida knew all too well.

“And?” If her friend had something to say . . .

“I heard about the escapades as well.”

“Well, I’d be a little surprised if you hadn’t since Sarah was there. But she wasn’t involved, so let’s keep the gossip to a minimum, shall we?” Ida knew her tone was brisk, but too bad. The last thing Tricia needed was gossip to spread like wildfire.

“Ida, no need to be like that with me. I don’t gossip about our families.” Claudia pursed her lips before she took a sip of her tea, and Ida could see the hurt in her friends gaze.

“Sorry, I just . . .” She shrugged.

“No need to explain, and you’re right. Sarah wasn’t involved, which was a good thing, because she would have been in a lot of trouble. Kids these days,” Claudia tsked. “We wouldn’t have had the nerve to pull that nonsense when we were kids.”

“No, but then, we didn’t have sleepovers like they do now either.” Ida agreed with her. Parenting had become far too relaxed. Kids got away with more than they should, and parents didn’t exert the authority they used to.

And kids were better for it, were they? Not in her book, they weren’t.

Ida’s cell phone rang in her purse, and as she pulled it out, Claudia rose. “I’ll give you some privacy,” she said as she left.

Ida glanced at the screen of the phone the kids insisted she keep on her. It was Tricia.

“I was just talking about you,” Ida said to her daughter. “Little Sarah had fun at your house last night according to Claudia.”

“Oh, good! I’m a little worried I’m going to start getting angry phone calls or e-mails from parents.”

“I’m sure you won’t. Stop worrying about it so much.” Tricia was very much like her. She didn’t focus on the things that didn’t matter in the long run and didn’t worry about every little thing that came her way. Worrying did no good.

Tricia sighed. “I need to worry about it, Mom. I wish I didn’t. Alyson just left . . .”

“What does Aly have you worried about now?”

“She thinks Keera is being sexually abused by Eddie.”

Ida gasped. She couldn’t help it.

“Sorry, I should have warned you,” Tricia said. “I begged Aly not to do anything or say anything until I find out for sure, but you know Aly.”

“I’m going to call her,” Ida said. She needed to do something to stop her daughter from making a fool of herself and from hurting another family with her false accusations and her own insecurities. “Why can’t she just leave things alone?” she moaned.

“That’s not the Aly way,” Tricia said softly. There was a smile in her voice, which Ida caught. It was a saying they’d created when Aly was just a child. She had always been stubborn and difficult and determined to get her own way, all the time.
Not the Aly way
was a saying everyone repeated, from her teachers to her friends . . . even now.

“Your father is playing cards at the club. Why don’t I just go and stop by her house before I pick him up? Have a little talk with Alyson and find out what’s going on,” Ida suggested.

“Are you sure that’s the smart thing to do?”

Ida heard the caution in her daughter’s voice, but she ignored it.

“Of course it is. She’s my daughter after all. Hopefully, she’ll listen or at least talk to me.” Things weren’t always the best between them, but they weren’t bad either.

“Okay,” Tricia said. Ida could hear the relief in her voice. “Let me know how it goes. Call me after, okay?”

Ida hung up and gathered her purse before heading to the register and putting some money down on the counter.

“Claudia, I need to run and talk with Alyson. Thanks for the scone and tea. I’ll come back next weekend for another pot.”

Without waiting for a response, Ida left the shop and made her way back down to where Gordon had parked their car. She glanced at her watch and realized only a half hour had passed, which left plenty of time for her to talk to Aly before coming back for her husband.

Plenty of time, hopefully, to talk some sense into her daughter before she did anything foolish, like telling someone who mattered that Keera had been abused by Eddie, of all people. The man was full of himself for sure, but he’d never hurt a child. He wasn’t that type of man.