Chapter V. 2007 #5
She whipped around, and the walls around her finally settled into their familiar forms. The kitchen island with its gleaming marble countertop stretching outward, the chef’s range and copper pots hanging above, the chandelier catching the sunlight and casting it back in a dizzying explosion.
Her mother and Vera sat at the island, two glasses and a bottle of cabernet between them, their mouths burgundy stains fallen slightly open in shock.
“They’re in the woods. At the tree where Tania … where Tania died,” Camilla said, the frenetic tumble of her mind unable to keep her tongue in check. Her terror was too great. Vera’s face remained neutral, but her eyes narrowed.
“What in the world are you talking about?” her mother asked, but Camilla looked only at Vera.
“You told me to tell you. If I saw them again.”
“Saw who? Vera, what on earth is going on?” her mother said, but Vera ignored her.
“Where?” Vera asked.
“At the tree. The tree. Like I already fucking said!”
“Camilla! Language!” her mother said.
“Where in the tree?” Vera leaned forward, her tone urgent.
“In the branches. It was like they were reaching for me. And their mouths … There was blood, and they opened them, and I could see…” Her voice dropped into a whisper, and she drew breath into her lungs, but it wasn’t enough to ease the deep ache that bloomed there.
It would never be enough. “I needed to go back, to see if there was anything that would prove the Dark Sisters were real. That I hadn’t imagined it. ”
At the mention of the Dark Sisters, her mother froze. “What did you say?”
“I saw them,” Camilla began, but her mother pushed back from the island. Her glass toppled, the wine spilling over the pale marble. So much like blood. It made Camilla nauseated to look at it.
“Stop it. The both of you,” her mother hissed, and Vera’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “This is my house, and I won’t allow it. I didn’t know any better when I was a girl, but I’m not doing this anymore.”
“Ada. Honey, you know—”
“Don’t ‘honey’ me,” her mother said, and Camilla watched in confusion as the two women argued.
She’d never known any friction between them.
They so rarely disagreed, and even then, it was over silly, inconsequential things.
Whether a shade of lipstick was slightly too bright a pink.
Whether Bottega Veneta was better before or after Gucci bought the brand and ushered in the stealth wealth style.
“You can’t keep ignoring the truth, Ada. Not anymore. You can’t keep pretending it didn’t happen.”
“Except that’s not true, is it? None of it. I thought I saw them, too. All those years ago, and I told you about it, but it wasn’t real. It doesn’t matter what you say, Vera, it wasn’t. And I won’t let you do this to Camilla.”
Around her, the room seemed to expand and contract as if they were caught in the belly of some terrible beast. Camilla opened her mouth, ready to ask what it was they meant, what it was her mother had seen and was trying to keep her from, but her father’s voice cut through the quiet. So calm. So measured.
“Camilla. Where were you?”
She swallowed the bile rising slick and hot in her throat, unsure how to respond, unsure how long he’d been there. How much he’d heard. “I needed to know, so I went back to the tree.”
Her father held up his hand. “I know about the party. That Brianna wasn’t the only one there. That you planned it.” He lifted his lip, disgust clearly written across his face. “And now there’s … this absurdity about the Dark Sisters.” He spat the final words as if he found them distasteful.
“I’ve looked the other way for far too long.
Told myself it was just girlish impulse.
But I was wrong. You aren’t a child anymore.
And it’s time to rectify those mistakes.
” He paused and adjusted his tie. “Paul and Gordon are here. They’ll escort you.
I think it’s best you spend some time on Retreat. ”
Out of the gloom the men came and stood at her father’s side, their faces emotionless as they looked at the three women still clustered around the kitchen island in an ironic domestic tableau. As if they’d merely found their way into the kitchen while the women prepared the nightly meal.
Camilla stumbled backward, her legs useless beneath her. It was finally happening. Everything Brianna said. Punished so she might be reformed and held up as an example. Nothing more than her father’s pawn. And looming over all were the Dark Sisters.
“You don’t understand. They’re real, Daddy, please. Mama’s seen them, too,” Camilla said, but the men gripped her arms and began pulling her forward.
“Ada?” her father asked.
Her mother remained at the island, unmoving, her gaze focused on the wine still spreading over the counter.
“Camilla’s upset, Henry. Give it a night. Let everyone cool down,” Vera said.
“It’s for her own good,” he said to Vera, and then to the men, “Take her out.”
Vera sagged against the island even as her eyes darted between Ada and Camilla.
“Daddy, please just listen.” Camilla stared at her mother, who still hadn’t looked up. “Mom, tell him you saw them, too. Tell him!” Her voice rose into a shout, but her mother sat silent, and Camilla tried to pull herself out of the men’s grip to get to her mother, but they dragged her backward.
“Camilla,” her father warned. She kicked, her vision blurring with tears as the men pulled her out of the kitchen. As if she was nothing at all. Something they knew would not fight back.
“You coward,” she whispered, and hoped even as the men half carried, half dragged her toward the door, her mother could somehow hear her. Hoped she could feel her words like a blade in the gut. “You fucking coward.”