Shadows Falling: The Lost #2 by Melyssa Williams

Author:Melyssa Williams [Williams, Melyssa]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3, mobi
Published: 2012-12-27T00:00:00+00:00

17

The meal is nearly wonderful enough to erase my memory of my star sightings, but not quite. I imagine every line of Lillian’s gorgeous gown as I tear into my steak with reckless abandon. The entire potato in, my stomach finally stops growling, and I can come up for air. I savor my beans, one by one, and resolve to find the answers to my questions. That is, after all, the whole point of tonight; movie stars and brown bread aside.

“Why doesn’t she speak of you? Rose, I mean. You said you know her well?” I am very interested in my question, but I pretend nonchalance as I experiment with how many beans can be stabbed on one fork.

“Quite. And I haven’t read the diary, so I don’t know.”

“A long time you’ve known her? Her whole life?” Nine beans, but they’re terribly squished. I feel bad for ruining their perfect, buttery roundness.

“No, not that long. It only feels like it. Are you going to finish your pie?”

“Yes. What do you make of what she thinks she did to her family? Is she telling the truth, do you think?”

“Which part?” Sam inquires, dryly. “The part with Mommy Dearest, or Father Goose, or Big Sister?”

“Any and all of it. Well, let’s start with the mother.” I drum my fingertips on my lips as I rest my chin on my hand. Elbows on the table would never have happened at the orphanage, I remember out of nowhere. “Do you really think she killed her? Her own mother? She said herself she was very confused that day. She thought she saw Mr. Rochester or some such literary character. Maybe the whole thing was in her head?”

Sam pushes his plate away and leans back in the chair, regarding me. “What do you think?” He turns the table on my inquisition smoothly.

“Oh, no, I asked you first.”

“I asked you second.”

I scowl. “Someone has to be mature here.”

“Not it.”

“Fine. I’ll go first. I think she invents wild things in her head and imagination to keep herself occupied in the hospital. We already know she comes up with some pretty crazy scenarios, so we can judge from that; we can’t believe everything she says.”

“So, you’ll just disbelieve all the frightening things? Is that it? Not face them. I see.” He looks—disappointed in me.

“Don’t be condescending. I’m simply giving you my version of things. But fine, all right, let’s say she really did kill her mother that night. How’d she get there? How’d she get out of Bedlam?”

“How’d she get out this last time? Doesn’t seem to be a problem, does it?”

“Why do you keep answering questions with questions? It’s terribly annoying.”

“Is it?”

I throw a piece of bread at him. “You’re impossible.”

Sam smiles and raises his eyebrows. “Not impossible. Quite possible and highly likely.”

I roll my eyes and dig into my pie. It’s melt in your mouth good, with cinnamon and brown sugar. We don’t get food like this at Bedlam. I’m so full; I feel I could burst.

“You’re really no help to me at all.

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