I dropped the knife I was holding, and a murmur swept around the table as all eyes turned to stare at Peter. He looked back at me, then at Emma, completely at a loss for words. The minutes seemed to stretch endlessly, each second thick with uncomfortable tension.
“Emma,” I said softly, forcing myself to smile for the sake of everyone around the table, “come I think there’s been a misunderstanding.”
She tugged on my hand, grabbing it insistently.
“No, Mom! She’s there right now! I saw her in the shed last week.
Come on, let’s go to the shed and bring her here.”
The unease in Peter’s eyes only deepened as he shifted uncomfortably under the weight of everyone’s stares. After a few tense beats, he finally nodded. “Emily… I think… we should talk.”
As he moved away from the table, he motioned for me to follow.
My heart was in my throat as I glanced back at the table, trying to reassure our family with a forced smile before following Peter out the back door. I followed, prepared to see anyone, but not this.
We crossed the yard in silence, each step toward the shed thick with a sense of dread. I’d never given much thought to that old shed tucked behind a row of wooden fences, just a dusty place for tools and garden supplies like lawnmowers, spades, and such.
But now, I could feel my palms grow clammy, my mind racing with thoughts I wasn’t ready to confront.
“I’m sorry, Emily,” he said softly, his voice cracking. “I didn’t mean for it to come out this way.”
With a slow creak, he pushed open the door. Inside, huddled in the dim light, was a woman. Continue reading…
