Chapter 2 - THE GIRL WHO KEPT ASKING
Emily had lived at Whitmore House for most of her life.
It was a large stone mansion outside Boston, with a long driveway, a greenhouse, and a west wing that remained cold even in summer. Before her mother disappeared, Emily remembered the house as a place full of music and adults arguing behind closed doors. Afterward, the music stopped, Richard became the person who made decisions, and Walter spent more time in his wheelchair beside the library windows.
Richard told Emily her mother had died.
At first she believed him because she was five and believed most things adults said with a serious face. Later she began asking why there was no grave she could visit. Richard said Sarah wanted her ashes scattered privately. Emily asked why her mother’s clothes remained in the guest-room closet. Richard said grief made people keep strange things.
When Emily asked why Grandpa Walter sometimes called Sarah’s name at night, Richard stopped letting her spend evenings in the library.
The guardianship case began six months earlier. Walter had suffered a stroke and now needed help with mobility and some daily tasks. Richard claimed that his father’s health made Whitmore House unsuitable for a young child unless Richard held permanent legal authority over her care.
Walter objected.
He could not provide every part of Emily’s care alone, but a longtime caregiver named June Foster helped with household routines, and Emily had a stable school arrangement. Walter wanted the court to review support options rather than automatically transfer authority to Richard.
Richard called that unreasonable.
He began documenting Walter’s missed appointments, medication changes, and occasional confusion after the stroke. He told Emily’s teachers that her great-grandfather was becoming unreliable and that Emily’s repeated questions about Sarah were signs of unresolved grief.
Then Emily received the first message.
It arrived through a children’s drawing application on the old phone Walter allowed her to use for games. The sender did not identify herself. She wrote:
Do you still have your yellow rabbit?
Emily stared at the screen.
Her mother had given her the rabbit on her fourth birthday. Its left ear had been torn when Emily caught it in the garden fence. Sarah repaired the ear with blue thread because she could not find yellow thread that matched.
Nobody outside the family knew that.
Emily answered.
Yes.
The next message read:
I fixed his ear. I wish I could fix the time too.
Emily ran to Walter.
He read the message and began trembling.
“Where did this come from?”
“I don’t know.”
Walter tried to call the number attached to the account. No one answered.
He did not tell Richard.
That was the first choice in two years that Emily remembered her great-grandfather making without asking his son’s permission.
The messages continued, but only occasionally. They asked about Emily’s favorite books, whether she still hated peas, and whether the music box beside her bed worked. Eventually the sender wrote:
I’m your mommy.
Emily wanted to believe her so badly that she became afraid to answer.
Instead, she asked a question Sarah had once told her never to share with strangers.
What did we call the moon when I was little?
The reply came three minutes later.
Our night-light in the sky.
Emily took the phone back to Walter.
This time he cried.
The video arrived on the morning of Richard’s guardianship hearing.
Walter watched it before Emily did. He sat in silence for a long time, then told her to keep the phone close.
“If anyone tries to take it, ask the judge to see it.”
Emily looked at him.
“Is Mommy really alive?”
May you like
Walter took her hand.
“I think someone has been lying to both of us.”
