No one was there.
She could have sworn she had seen someone.
It had been surreal. The way she thought the shadow passed in front of the cross, it looked to have wings.
Shaken, she tried to take another step forward. Feeling like her knees couldn’t support her weight, she grabbed the side of a pew to steady herself.
“Is someone there?” she called out, promising herself never to watch another scary movie for the rest of her life.
The church was so silent she would be able to hear any sound, but she didn’t hear anything. Shaking her head at herself, Ginny headed back toward the door, feeling foolish. As she did, she realized the pastor’s door had closed. Taking a step in that direction, she gave a small scream when the main church door swung open, making her drop her backpack.
“What is taking you so long?” Lisa snapped when she saw her.
“Sorry,” Ginny muttered, bending down to pick up the backpack. “I won’t be a minute. I’ll tell Pastor Dean I’m leaving.”
The closed door was silently calling for her to open it, propelling her feet forward like a strong magnet without her direction.
“Now! I don’t have all night. I’ll text him when we get in the car.”
Ginny reluctantly hurried to the door that Lisa was holding open.
“Next time, you can walk home.”
Ginny didn’t argue as she got in the back seat, her mind still on the church. Buckling her seatbelt without taking her eyes off the church, she wanted to run back inside.
As Lisa pulled the car onto the road, she unzipped her backpack, making sure she had all her books and notebooks while trying to explain to herself why she felt as if she had left something important behind.
Three minutes later, Ginny was getting out of the car and heading inside the house. The living room wasn’t empty; Dalt was watching television. Ginny saw the square glass sitting on the end table next to him without a coaster underneath. It was everything Ginny could do not to remark on it.
“How’d it go?” he asked conversationally as she started up the steps.
Her foster father tried to be friendlier toward her than Lisa was, but she had grown to dislike him even more than her foster mom. The problem was that the Wests really didn’t do anything that she could tell on them for. Were they nice? Did they provide a home like the ones she was used to? No. Maybe with a younger child they would be able to bond with them better than they had with her. She didn’t know. She just kept hoping that one day she would open the door and Silas would be there to take her home where she belonged.
“Good. The pastor helped me a lot. He said that—”
Ginny could tell he wasn’t even listening. Lisa had gone to the couch to curl up next to her husband.
She left them alone, going upstairs where she took a shower and got ready for bed. Turning the light off, she lay down and stared up at the ceiling. Unable to sleep, though, she was about to turn her light back on and read a book when she heard her doorknob rattling.
Keeping her eyes closed, she pretended to be asleep, knowing it was Lisa. She checked on her every night before going to bed to make sure she was in bed. Hearing the door close, she then heard Lisa talking from the other side.
“She’s asleep.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
Ginny made a gagging face at hearing them kissing before they went to their bedroom farther down the short hall.
Rolling onto her stomach to ease her hunger pains, she shoved the pillow under her chin. The nights were the worst. It was when she missed her dad and Leah the most.
She hated the pretty pink bedroom. The one she had shared with Leah was tiny, and they didn’t have their own bathroom, yet it was her home. She missed sitting next to him when they watched a movie and it was her turn. She missed the way he complained when he went to the bathroom and someone else was already in there. She missed the way he laughed when one of the brothers would play jokes on each other. There was nothing she hadn’t loved about him or Leah. She hadn’t made up for losing Trudy, but the time with them had made the waiting for Trudy easier.
She forced the tears back, afraid Lisa would notice stains on the pillowcase in the morning when she watched her make her bed.
Tossing and turning, she fell in a fitful sleep, dreaming about a dark angel that was chasing her. Desperately trying to outrun him, she found herself swooped into his arms. Terrified, she had tried to see his face but couldn’t make out his obscured features. Screaming in terror, she then abruptly stopped, sensing he wasn’t going to hurt her. When she was no longer afraid of him, he gently lowered her back to her bed as the dream faded into a dreamless, deep sleep that had her ignoring the shrill of the alarm clock on her nightstand.