Chapter 3 - The Language of Lost Souls
By midnight, Jonathan descended the stairs, expecting to find another resignation note taped to the front door or Nora crying on the porch waiting for an Uber. Instead, he found the ground floor spotless.
The green paint was gone from the entry foyer. The dirty dishes were washed, dried, and stacked neatly in the cupboards. But what made Jonathan stop in his tracks was the dining room table.
Sitting on the table were six distinct paper bags, each neatly labeled with a name. Beside them lay a handwritten note in precise, elegant handwriting:
Mr. Whitaker,
I cleaned the house as requested. However, your daughters do not need a cleaner or an exorcist. They are guarding their grief like dragons guarding treasure, because they believe if they let go of the anger, they let go of their mother.
In Hazel’s bag, you’ll find her mother’s missing silver necklace which was trapped under the sofa—she wasn't hiding it to steal it; she was hiding it so no nanny would touch it. In June’s bag are clean clothes—she wets her bed because she is terrified of sleeping in the dark alone. In Brooke’s bag are hair ribbon tutorials—she cut her hair because she tried to style it like her mother used to and failed.
I will be back at 7:00 AM tomorrow for my second shift.
May you like
— Nora Delgado
Jonathan touched the paper, his hands trembling. He walked over to the office window and looked out into the midnight mist. For the first time since Maribel died, he didn't feel completely alone in the dark.
