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Christine

Chapter 40

The Homecoming

"I very much like this one." Grace pointed a finger at a drawing I made of Ayesha. "Cats are my favorite."

"Oh?" I smiled. "Do you have one?"

"No. Papa is allergic."

I looked at her. She sat a little straighter now, eyes a bit brighter. A thought appeared, in which I imagined Grace and Reza playing and laughing. Another time, perhaps - wouldn't that be lovely?

I tapped on the picture. "This cat's name is Ayesha."

Her gaze met mine. "She is yours?"

"Yes. She used to belong to only my husband, but I've adopted her as well."

The slightest smile met her pink lips. "Can I meet her?"

She seemed so comfortable now. I felt immense relief. "Of course, Grace. Give me just a moment." I stood, began walking, then paused. I turned, to find her still watching me. "Actually," I suggested, "why don't you come along? If you'd like. She's probably curled on my bed."

"Oh-" She hesitated momentarily, blinked, but then gave a small nod. "All right. Yes."

"You can still say no, dear," I reminded her.

She inhaled lightly and stood. "No, it's all right. I want to see the cat." And when I looked into her eyes, saw the set of her jaw, I read her unspoken words as well: I trust you.

I made my expression warm and extended a hand. This encouraged her - she walked toward me and gripped my palm with her own. I led her through the apartment and into my bedroom, and Ayesha was indeed there, curled into a ball at the foot of the mattress. Grace let out a little exclamatory gasp of glee, and let go of my hand to head straight for the cat.

Ayesha awoke immediately, ears back. She allowed the girl to pet her, but glared at me as if to say, "there had better be treats in this for me".

Grace sat on the bed as she pet her, and I sat on the cat's other side. Ayesha's eyes drifted closed again, and a soft purr sounded from her throat, low and comforting.

"I like all animals," Grace said. "Not just cats. I like dogs, too." A pause, in which we listened to Ayesha rumbling. I stayed silent, merely happy that she was sharing some of herself with me, as surface-level as it was. Favorite animals were the beginning of my friendship with Reza, after all. "M. Vaillancourt has a dog," she continued. "His name is Jacques." She smiled. "He was mean to everyone - except for me. I think he could tell how sad I was. He would always lick me and nudge me with his head." She sighed, running her finger's through Ayesha's coat. The cat flexed her paws in pleasure. "He's the only part of that house that I will miss."

I stared at her. "Did Vaillancourt ever hurt you?"

She shook her head. "No." Her eyebrows stitched. "He even told me all the time to be grateful that he didn't put his hands on me - that I was too young for him to want to touch." She looked at me. "I always thought it was an odd thing to say."

I felt suddenly sick. "Just be glad he didn't touch you, Grace."

She nodded, and blushed. "He...did put something in my tea sometimes, though, when I cried. It made me sleep." She pursed her lips and looked down, as though afraid to tell this, like she might get in trouble somehow. "That's why I didn't want anything when you offered. I...thought you were going to make me sleep."

Alarm rang through me. "Were you ever in any pain when you woke up?"

Her eyes met mine again. "No."

"No pain - anywhere?"

"No, Madame. Why?"

I blew out a breath. "No, I - only wondering." That was good sign, at least.

She stared at me for a few seconds more, than turned to Ayesha. "The servants took care of me, Madame. It wasn't...anything bad that happened. I was just homesick. Really, very homesick. I thought I might never see my Papa again."

"I understand." I truly did, more than she knew.

"One of the ladies who worked in the house stayed with me while I slept from the tea." Her expression was lost to some memory. "I asked them all the time to let me go back home, at least in the beginning. I stopped after a month...they always said no. But they looked sad while they said it. I think they wanted to help, but where too afraid. I was afraid too, to run. I was scared he'd catch me. And he locked my door when he left and at night, so I couldn't anyway." She scratched behind Ayesha's ears. "When those men came to get me earlier tonight, the servants looked the other way and said that they saw nothing."

"I'm glad," I said, and meant it. "You're safe now."

She didn't look at me. "If it's all right with you, I still don't want any tea, Madame. I'm sorry for my rudeness."

Poor thing - my heart broke.

"That's all right, love," I said gently. "You don't have to have any."

Just then, I heard the front door of the apartment open, and Erik's voice called out, "Christine?"

And then another male voice that I placed as Franklin's: "Grace!"

Her eyes went wide and she whipped her head to the door. "Papa!" She was up from the bed, startling Ayesha something fierce. I stood as well.

"Grace!" Franklin's voice was closer, strangled with emotion. I left the room just in time to see his daughter fly into his arms, crying. A homecoming to her father's love and care.

Franklin sobbed too. He lifted her off the ground, her arms around his neck and her feet dangling a foot off the floor. Their faces were buried in each other's shoulders.

"Grace," he said for a third time, like a prayer, then spoke words I didn't understand. English. Whatever he said, it made her cry harder. He rocked her gently back and forth.

I brought my hands to my lips, remembering this moment with my own father months ago. My Papa, who'd just come out of the kitchen wen he heard the men shout our names, put a hand on my shoulder and kissed my cheek. I leaned into his side.

And then I caught Erik's gaze. He stood behind Franklin. I expected his eyes to hold the same joy I felt. But they didn't. Not at all.

I frowned. Stood up straight. Took a step forward.

Something was very wrong.