Free Endless Fear by Adrianne Lee

country kitchen. The Barbie doll was tucked into the waistband of her jeans and concealed by her sweatshirt.
    Helga was at the stove. A grease-spattered, beige apron trussed her ample middle, protecting her tan-and-white checked dress. August, Thane, and Spencer, the epitome of casual in Levis and soft hued sweatshirts, huddled around one end of the black Formica table drinking coffee and dissecting some sports item in yesterday’s newspaper, while at the other end Vanessa and Cynthia had their heads together as they discussed wedding details.
    Spencer heard her come in, felt his pulse joggle, but didn’t look around. He’d never have the right to claim April and for both their sakes, he had to stop wishing it were otherwise.
    Aunt March shuffled into the room with July at her heels. “Well, whadda ya know…. She can walk again.”
    The remark made April feel as self-conscious as she suspected it was meant to. Trying to ignore the heat stealing up her neck, she smiled at the old woman and then at the other upraised faces. “Yes, the feet are good as new.”
    As the family exchanged “good mornings” April strode to the coffee maker and filled a white mug to the rim. Why she let that crusty old lady get to her, she couldn’t say. She sensed eyes boring into her back. Aunt March, again? Had she been the one who’d left the gruesome doll on her bed? She balanced the hot cup with both hands and turned to face her family, but caught no one looking at her.
    “ Better all take your places before the food gets cold,” Helga declared, hefting a platter of scrambled eggs, bacon and toast toward the table. The rustle of folded newspaper and the scrape of chairs followed straightaway.
    April walked to the vacant seat next to her young sister. Setting the coffee mug on the plastic placemat, she extracted the doll from her waistband, set it on the center of the table and said with practiced calm, “Look who turned up in my room, July.”
    The child let out a squeal as April’s gaze sped from one adult face to another in pursuit of any betraying flinch. The effort proved a waste of time. Disappointment followed her into her chair. Whatever enlightenment she’d hoped to gain by this ploy hadn’t materialized. She’d never seen a more innocent-looking bunch. Not one guilty twitch, not one clenched jaw, nor one telltale red ear-tip in the lot.
    What the hell was that all about ? Spencer wondered, covertly studying April’s fallen expression. The pointed way she’d plopped the doll on the table and drawn everyone’s attention to it reeked of something rehearsed. And the failure to elicit a reaction from anybody but July seemed to have taken the wind out of her sails. The urge to touch her hand consolingly stole over him. Don’t! he warned himself. Whatever her problem, his involvement was guaranteed to make it worse.
    * * * *
    Several days later, April congratulated herself on the boldness of her actions with the Barbie doll. She may not have smoked out the culprit, but apparently she’d shown her tormentor anonymous notes and childish pranks couldn’t frighten her away from Calendar House.
    Intent on taking advantage of the unusually mild afternoon, she left her room and headed down the hallway toward the main staircase. Nothing and no one, she determined, must stop her from regaining her memory. But when would that be? What few recollections she’d experienced this past week had had nothing to do with Lily’s fall, just her cruelties. April chewed the inside of her lip. The hatred she felt at each of these times only increased her fear that she had been the one arguing with her mother on the landing above the stairs.
    She descended to the foyer, thinking the house seemed unduly quiet. Sun refracted through the leaded glass windows on either side of the massive pine door, emphasizing the purples, greens, and blacks of the Oriental carpets. Adding yet another slash of color, her red parka hung from a hall-tree hook.