The Stillwater Girls by Minka Kent

Author:Minka Kent [Kent, Minka]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-04-08T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 23

WREN

“Here you go.” Nicolette appears in the doorway of the room she’s just put us in, an armful of clothes and extra blankets in her arms. My sister has hardly moved from the edge of the large bed that sticks out from the wall by the giant window. Nicolette offered to give us each our own room with our own private bathroom, but I insisted that we stay together.

I haven’t told Sage this, but I’m just as scared as she is.

There’s a book Mama used to read to us when we were little. These kids walked through the back of this wardrobe and into this whole other land with all these mythical creatures and things and people they’d never seen before.

That’s what this is like, only this is real life, and there are no mythical creatures—only dozens of faces I’ve never seen, introducing themselves with names I’ll never remember and spouting out titles I’ve never heard of as if it makes them more trustworthy.

I don’t know whom to trust, whom to believe. Who’s good and who’s bad. And if Mama could lie to us, then so could anyone else.

“Thank you.” I take the clothes from Nicolette and set them on top of a dresser. Earlier today, she brought clothes to the hospital for us to come home in. They’re too big on us, but they’re soft and they smell nice. Someone with Deputy May took our dresses and coats and placed them in a clear bag. I don’t know if we’ll ever see those clothes again, but I think I’m okay with that because I’ve yet to see a single person dressed like we were.

“Tomorrow,” Nicolette says, “if you’re feeling up to it, maybe we could go into town? Get you both some new clothes?”

I swallow. “All right.”

“Do you want me to show you around the bathroom?” she asks, eyeing the doorway between our bedroom and the small room connected to it. “There’s a soaking tub in there and some bubble bath under the sink that smells like spearmint and eucalyptus. Might feel good to soak for a bit. I imagine you’re still sore.”

I don’t know what “bubble bath” is, but it sounds nice.

Her eyes drop to my bare feet, which still ache and are marred with red marks and blisters from our journey two nights ago.

“Here. I’ll show you.” Nicolette walks into the bathroom, and I follow. “So you turn this knob to here for warm water. Turning it to the left will make it hotter, right will make it colder—kind of like the shower at the hospital.” Plucking a pink bottle from under the sink, she unscrews the cap. “You pour one or two capfuls of this under running water to make bubbles. When you’re done with your bath, there are robes and towels in the closet here. Press that silver button on the tub to drain the water.”

“Thank you.” I stand in the doorway between the bedroom and bathroom as she shows me how to operate the large, oval-shaped basin against the wall.

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