Free Amber House: Neverwas by Larkin Reed Tucker Reed Kelly Moore Page A

her, Papa,” I announced.
    “Deirdre, I will find you a healthy girl, a smiling, pretty girl,” Papa said reasonably, coaxingly. “This one is beyond our help.”
    “I want her ,” I said, stamping my foot. And Papa sighed and made it so.
    They loaded her onto a make-shift pallet in the back of our skiff.
    When we arrived home, I told Absalom to handle her gently, and he smiled and said he would. I insisted they take her up to the small room beside mine. “I want to make sure she is cared for properly.” And Papa sighed and made it so.
    CH A P T ER SE V E N
    K
    I woke thinking about that black woman driven almost to death
    in — a slave ship. I knew a couple of my ancestors had been slave
    traders. One of them in fact had a daughter named Deirdre. Odd
    that I should dream of her so specifically.
    Teeth brushed, hair combed, I headed for the stairs. Just
    before the balcony, I noted a rectangle of light where there
    shouldn’t have been one — someone had left open the door to
    the Captain’s suite again. It was irritating. I had repeatedly asked everyone to please leave that door closed.
    I strode for the open door, brisk steps that got slower and
    slower. An unpleasant feeling grew in me that I was trespassing,
    that I should go no farther. I stopped near the opening, looking in.
    It was a strangely oppressive view. The Captain had been one
    of my two slave-trading ancestors, married to the woman that
    my dream child Deirdre grew up to become. The room was suit-
    able, somehow, to be the resting place of a slaver. It was decidedly masculine, dressed with dark green and oxblood red fabrics. An
    oil painting of a ship in a storm hung over a fireplace. The walls
    were decorated with a collection of swords that came from all
    over the world. And every surface was littered with scrimshaw —
    the teeth of slaughtered whales carved by the sailors who had
    harvested their oil.
    I stood there, wavering, wanting to tug the door closed, but
    unwilling to put my hand out. I heard a thunk that sounded like it came from the middle of the room, then heard it again. And
    again. Metal on wood. I wondered what it could be.
    o61
    I changed my mind. I would leave the door be. Why bother to
    close it when someone would just open it again. I turned again
    to head for the stairs.
    A flicker of movement caught my eye. A spider scuttled
    across the carpet. Its body was a golden orb — a Good Mother,
    the species was called. She ran under the door of the next
    bedroom.
    I shuddered, slightly nauseated. I hated all bugs and creepy
    crawlers, but I hated spiders more, and hated Good Mothers
    most of all. They were poisonous and their bite never really
    healed. I remembered the first time I’d encountered one, when
    I was Sammy’s age. I’d wanted to go puddle-stomping with
    Jackson up Amber House’s front drive. So I’d found my boots
    and stuck my hand inside one to make sure I hadn’t left a
    sock stuffed in the bottom. My fingers brushed against some
    crackly straws that I was going to fish out, but then Jackson
    appeared and shouted at me to drop the boot. When it hit the
    ground, a Good Mother plopped out and tried to drag herself
    away on broken legs. I could still remember the sick feeling
    little-me had, watching her. Then Jackson smashed her under
    his shoe.
    If I let this little monster get away, then maybe the next day
    I’d find it in my shoe or bed — or, worse, in Sammy’s. I pulled
    off a slipper and made myself open the door she’d run under.
    The room was another one I rarely entered. It was plain com-
    pared to the rest of Amber House — a bed, a chest of drawers,
    a crucifix centered over the bed, a painting of two children. The
    room always felt cold to me, perhaps because it was so sparsely
    furnished. No one used it. It waited in shadows, its curtains
    always drawn.
    The spider sat in the rectangle of light that fell in through the
    doorway, poised and ready to run. I held my breath and lifted
    my