Sinda turned her head to the right, and her gaze came to rest on the diary, lying on the bedside table. She was thankful Tara hadn’t read any of it. She reached out and grabbed it, thumbing through several pages, forcing herself to read her mother’s final words one more time.
Dear Diary:
William and I had another argument. He continues to blame me for the death of our son, even though it’s been two years. He wishes we’d never married and says even the sight of me makes him sick.
“Were you sickened by the sight of me, Dad?” Sinda whispered into the night. She sniffed deeply and forced herself to read on.
What did I do to cause William to feel such animosity? He even said he and Sinda would be better off without me. I love my daughter, and I can’t bear to think of leaving her. Besides, where would I go? How would I support myself? I have no relatives to turn to, and no money of my own. William handles all the finances. I’m only allowed enough cash for household expenses. If I need personal things or clothes for Sinda, I have to make an itemized list, then he decides how much I’ll be allowed to spend. William makes good money at his accounting firm, yet he acts as though we are paupers.
Sinda felt a knot form in her stomach as she tried to visualize her mother begging for money. The poor woman must have had no self-esteem. Of course, I had no self-esteem when Dad was alive, either. If I had, I’d have left home and made a life of my own. Instead, I felt obligated to take care of Dad and try to make up for what Mother did to him. Tears slipped from her eyes and landed on the next entry.
Dear Diary:
William’s abuse has escalated. Last night, during another heated argument, he hit me. I didn’t see it coming in time, so the blow landed on my jaw. It left an ugly bruise, and this morning I can barely open my mouth.
Thankfully, Sinda was asleep when it happened. I hope she never discovers the awful truth about her father. She seems devoted to him, and he to her.
A sob ripped from Sinda’s throat, and tears coursed down her cheeks. “It’s true, Mother. My loyalty was always with Dad. I did everything he told me to do. I remember hearing the two of you arguing, but I refused to accept what was really happening.” She drew in a deep breath and turned to the last entry in her mother’s diary.
Dear Diary:
I know what I must do, and it’s breaking my heart. It’s been seven years since William Jr.’s death, yet I’ve been reminded of it nearly every day. My husband won’t let me forget, nor will he quit laying the blame at my feet. He’s become more and more physically abusive, and I fear for my life. William gave me an ultimatum last night. He said I must move out of our house and leave Sinda with him.
I’ve become William’s enemy, and it seems as if he wants it that way. I’ve tried to reestablish what we once had, but he’s built a wall of indifference and hatred around himself. I’ve seen a counselor and even suggested that we try to have another baby, but he won’t hear of it. He says I had my chance and failed. He insists that I take on a new identity and begin another life. One that won’t include my precious little girl. He says that I have no other choice, and if I refuse, he’ll tell Sinda I killed her baby brother. She’s too young to understand. I’m afraid she would side with her father.
He said that if I don’t leave, he will force me to watch while he doles out my punishments to Sinda. After suffering years of his abuse, I know well what William is capable of doing. I would do anything to protect our daughter.
Sinda’s throat felt constricted, and it became difficult to swallow. “Oh, Mother, why didn’t you tell me the truth? Or why didn’t you at least take me with you? You left me with a bitter, angry man.” She shook her head slowly. She’d practically idolized her father when she was a child, and even if her mother had told the truth, she wouldn’t have believed it. Dad had said everything was Mother’s fault, and Sinda had accepted it as fact.
“I didn’t see the truth because I didn’t want to,” she moaned. “Dad was more of a hypocrite than I’d ever begun to imagine!” She blinked away her tears, as she continued to read.
I’ve decided I must go in the morning, before Sinda wakes up. I’ll leave a note on the kitchen table, stating only that I’m leaving and will never return. God forgive me for not having the courage to stand up to William. I have no family living nearby, and I don’t even know if I can support myself. Taking Sinda with me would be a selfish thing to do. As much as I’ll miss her, I know she will be better off with her father.
Sinda drew in a shuddering breath and tried to free her mind of the agonizing pain that held her in its grasp. “Dad used to tell me I would end up like you, Mother. I only dated a few times, and never more than once with the same man. Dad convinced me that, should I ever marry, I’d end up hurting my husband the way you hurt him.” She covered her face with her hands and sobbed. Like mother, like daughter. Her father’s accusing words rang in her head as she rocked back and forth, clutching a pillow to her chest. She’d lost so much. If only she’d been able to see through her father’s charade. If she could just go back and change the past. Was it possible that Dad really had repented that night at the revival service? Why had he told Alex Masters to see that Sinda was given her mother’s trunk? Could Dad have been trying to make restitution?
Sinda knew that only God could have seen what was in her father’s heart. What mattered now was what she planned to do with her future. She hadn’t known Glen very long, but in the short time they’d been together, she knew one thing for certain. She loved him as much as she was capable of loving anyone.
Eighteen
Sinda awoke the following morning feeling groggy and disoriented. A barrage of troublesome dreams had left her mind in a jumble. She forced herself to shower and change into a pair of blue jeans and a white T-shirt. There were several dolls that needed to be finished, and she knew staying busy would be the best remedy for her negative thoughts and self-pity.
She and Tara had done some work in the basement yesterday. Since nothing unusual had happened, she’d talked herself into going back down there again today. She had to conquer her fears, and facing them head-on was the only way.
After breakfast Sinda cleaned up the kitchen, made a few phone calls to customers, balanced her checkbook, took out the garbage, fed the dog and cat, and watered all her houseplants. By the time she finished her chores, it was noon and she was ready for lunch. This gave her an excuse to put off going to the basement awhile longer.
Panther rubbed against Sinda’s leg as she stood at the kitchen sink, peeling a carrot to add to her shrimp salad. The cat purred softly when she lifted her foot to rub the top of his sleek head with the toe of her sneaker. “Would you like to go downstairs with me?” she murmured.
The feline meowed and turned so she could rub the other side of his body. Sinda was glad Panther had come to live with her. He’d already proven to be quite the mouser. No more strange noises in the basement, and no more jumping doll parts! Sinda had been hoping her two pets would become friends, but so far it didn’t appear as if that would happen. She tried to keep them separated as much as possible, alternating Sparky and Panther from the house to the yard. She probably should find another home for one of them, but right now she had more pressing matters to worry about. The first one—to get some dolls ready to go home.
A short time later, Sinda flicked the basement light on and proceeded into the doll hospital. She had little enthusiasm, but at least she was going to get something accomplished.
Sinda knew she’d become good at her craft, but on days like today she had little energy, limited confidence in her abilities, and no feeling of self-worth. In fact, she wondered if her life had any meaning at all. Where would she be living and what would she be doing twenty years from now? Would she still be here in this old house, stringing dolls, gluing on synthetic wigs, and pining for a love she could never have? Except for Carol, she had no real friends, although Glen wanted to be her friend. In fact, he wanted more than friendship.
Before
she abandoned me and Dad, I thought Mother and I were friends, Sinda thought wistfully. She massaged her forehead with the tips of her fingers, hoping to halt the troubling thoughts. I wonder if Mother’s still alive. It’s been almost twenty-three years since she left. Would it be a mistake to try to look for her after all this time?
“Maybe I’m not her only daughter. If Mother took on another identity, she might have gotten married again and could even have a whole new family by now. She’s probably forgotten she ever had a daughter named Sinda.” She moaned and shook her head. “And what would I say if I found her?”
As intriguing as the idea was, because of Dad, Sinda felt sure her mother would want nothing to do with her. Mother no doubt thought Sinda was on his side. After all, during the time her mother had been living with them, Sinda and her father had been close. Does Mother even know that Dad is dead?
Sinda pushed all thoughts of her mother aside and forced her mind to focus on the Raggedy Ann doll, whose face was missing its black, button eyes. In short order she completed the job of sewing on new eyes, then she went to work on an old composition baby doll. One leg was missing, so Sinda rummaged for the part in a box marked Composition Doll Legs. She searched thoroughly, knowing there had been a match the last time she looked.
“I can’t figure it out,” she fumed. “I showed Mrs. Allen the leg I’d be using as a replacement the day she brought the doll in. Where could it be?”
Thinking she might have taken it out earlier and placed it somewhere, Sinda looked on all the shelves and through every box of composition parts. When she still couldn’t locate the leg, she set the doll aside to work on something else.
Another doll needed a new wig. Her old one was made of mohair and had been badly moth-eaten. Sinda opened the top drawer of an old dresser used exclusively for doll wigs. She knew the right size and color would be there because she’d recently received an order from one of her suppliers. She searched through every package of wigs, but couldn’t find the one she needed. “I don’t understand this!” She slammed the drawer shut with such force it caused the drawer below to fly open.
Sinda gasped. Wedged between two boxes of open-and-close eyes was a vinyl doll arm. It was the one she’d been looking for the other day, when Glen helped her search for missing doll parts. “What in the world is going on?”
Icy fingers of fear crept up her spine as she closed the drawer then opened the one below. She kept stringing-cord in several sizes here, along with wooden neck buttons used on the older bisque dolls. Lying in the middle of a coil of elastic cord was a composition doll arm. It was also one she had been looking for.
“I’ve got to get out of here!” Sinda banged the drawer shut and bolted for the stairs. A few minutes later, she stood in the kitchen, willing her heartbeat to return to a normal, steady rhythm. She wiped her clammy hands on the front of her jeans and sank wearily into a chair. Leaning both elbows on the table, Sinda let her head fall forward into her hands.
Several minutes later, she lifted her head and glanced at the clock above the refrigerator. It was only three o’clock. Glen wouldn’t be home for at least two hours. Sinda shook her head. Why am I thinking of him?
“Maybe a nap will help,” Sinda mumbled. She left the kitchen and curled up on the couch in the living room, with Panther lying at her feet.
For the first half hour, sleep eluded her. Fears and troubled thoughts hissed at her like corn popping over hot coals. “Help me, Lord. Please help me.” The words exploded in her head, as she realized that she was praying. Maybe she hadn’t strayed as far from the Lord as she’d thought. Maybe He did still care about her.
When Sinda finally fell asleep, her thoughts mingled with her dreams and she could no longer distinguish between what was real and what wasn’t.
Glen. . .
Tara. . .
Missing dolls. . .
Mother. . .
Sinda was awakened to the resonating chime of the grandfather clock, letting her know it was half past five. She sat up, yawned, and stretched like a cat. “Some little nap we took, huh, Panther?” The cat didn’t budge, so she left him alone on the couch.
Her stomach rumbled as she plodded toward the kitchen. “I think I’d better have something to eat.”
Her nerves were a bit steadier now, though she still felt physically fatigued and mentally drained. Some nourishment would hopefully recharge her batteries and get her thinking clearly.
Sinda opened the refrigerator to get some milk for the makings of clam chowder. She picked up the carton and halted. Her world was spinning out of control. With a piercing wail, she dropped the milk to the floor, turned, and rushed out the back door.
❧
Glen was standing at the stove frying lamb chops for supper when he heard a sharp rapping on the door. Knowing Tara was engrossed in her favorite TV show in the living room, he turned the burner down and went to see who it was.
When he opened the door, startling green eyes flashed with obvious fear, and Sinda practically fell into his arms. He held her for several seconds, letting her wet the front of his T-shirt with her tears. When he could stand it no longer, Glen pulled back slightly. “What is it? Why are you crying?”
“I think I’m going crazy!” Sinda shifted her weight from one foot to the other, and he noticed how badly she was trembling.
“Come, have a seat at the table.” Glen led Sinda to the kitchen, offered her a chair, then handed her a napkin. “Dry your eyes, take a deep breath, and tell me what has you so upset.”
“Remember the missing doll parts we hunted for the other day?” she asked, her voice quivering.
He nodded and sat down beside her.
“I found some of them today.”
“That’s great! See, I told you not to worry.”
She grasped his arm. “It’s not great! I found the parts accidentally—in some really weird places!”
She went on to give him the details, and he listened quietly until he thought she was finished. “I still don’t see why you think you’re going crazy. We all misplace things. The other day I lost my car keys again, and Tara found them lying on the living room floor.”
“It’s not the same thing. I haven’t even told you the worst part.”
“There’s more?”
She lowered her gaze to the table. “I was about to fix some chowder for supper, and when I opened the refrigerator to take out the milk, I found a doll body—one that’s also been missing.” She sucked in her lower lip. “It wasn’t there earlier when I fixed lunch. Do you see now why I think I’m losing my mind?”
“I’m sure there has to be some logical explanation,” he said with an assurance he didn’t really feel.
She looked at him hopefully. “What do you think it is?”
He reached for her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I don’t know.”
She hung her head dejectedly, and it pulled at his heartstrings. What was there about this woman that made him want to protect her? Was it the tilt of her head, that cute little nose, those gorgeous green eyes, her soft auburn hair? Or was it Sinda’s vulnerability that touched the core of Glen’s being? Had God sent her to him, or was it the other way around? Perhaps they needed each other more than either of them realized.
Glen shook his thoughts aside and focused on Sinda’s immediate need. “Why don’t you stay here for supper? Afterward, we’ll go back to your house, and I’ll help you look for more doll parts, or at least some clues that might tell us something about what’s been going on.”
Sinda raised her head. “Thanks, but I have to tell you, I don’t have much hope of finding anything.”
He studied her face a few seconds. Her smile was the saddest one he’d ever seen. It nearly broke his heart to see her suffering like this.
Prayer. That’s what they both needed now. Lots and lots of prayer.
Nineteen
“Why can’t I come, too?” Tara whined after Glen informed her that he was going over to Sinda’s house.
<
br /> “Because you have dishes to do.”
“There aren’t that many,” she argued. “I could do them when we get back.”
Since when is Tara so anxious to go to Sinda’s? Glen wondered. She’s got to be up to something. He pointed to the sink. “I want you to do the dishes now, Tara.”
Tara’s lower lip protruded. “Please, Dad.”
“Pouting will not help.”
“Maybe we could use some help on this case,” Sinda suggested. “After all, Tara has been practicing to be a detective.”
The child jumped up and down excitedly. “A case? What kind of case are we on?”
“We are not on any case,” Glen answered firmly. “I am going to help Sinda look for a few things she’s misplaced.” He turned, so only Sinda could see his face, and he held one finger to his lips. When she nodded, he faced Tara again. “If we run into problems we can’t handle, I’ll call you.”
“Promise?”
“I said so, didn’t I?”
Before the child could reply, Glen grabbed Sinda by the hand and led her out the back door.
“Are you sure you have time for this?” Sinda asked when they reached her back porch.
“I’ll always make time for you.” Glen’s answer was followed by a quick kiss.
“I wish you wouldn’t do that.”
He wrapped his arms around her. “You mean this?” When he bestowed her with another kiss, he noticed she was blushing.
“I think we’d better go inside. Our neighbors might get the wrong idea.” Sinda opened the back door and motioned toward her kitchen floor. “Excuse the mess. When I saw the doll body in the refrigerator, I dropped a carton of milk. I was so scared, I just ran out the door.” She grabbed some paper towels, then dropped to her knees.
Glen skirted around her, heading for the refrigerator. Sure enough, there was a pink doll body lying on the top shelf. He reached inside and pulled it out, hardly batting an eyelash over this latest phenomenon.
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