Clara was holding a small girl’s dress.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
My mother smiled.
“Just sorting through some old things.”
But my aunt snapped nervously.
“Elizabeth, tell her not to come in without knocking!”
Her words hurt my feelings. But something even stranger happened the following week.
I was walking down the hallway when I heard my mother’s voice.
“The second girl will be more difficult.”
Clara replied:
“You said the same thing about the first one. Look how well that turned out.”
“But what if her mother finds out?”
“She won’t. As long as the children don’t tell anyone.”
I stopped dead in my tracks. My heart began pounding. What children? What were they doing with these little girls?
That evening, I confronted my mother.
“Mom, what have you been hiding from me lately?”
She looked surprised.
“Nothing, sweetheart.”
“Then why do you and Clara always lock the door?”
