Protector - Laurel Dewey [131]
“Hey, Dan!” Emily said quietly, standing midway on the stairs that led to the attic with her Starlight Starbright vinyl case in tow.
Dan turned around and carefully moved away from the air vent so Jane couldn’t hear him. “Whatcha doin’ there, honey?” Dan lifted Emily into the attic.
“I don’t want Mom to know I’m up here,” Emily said confidentially. “But since you like stars, I brought my Starlight Starbright for you to see. It’s dark enough up here for it to work.”
Dan continued to mark the sections of pipe as Emily opened the case. The pack of photographs of her parents fell out and onto the floor. “Dan?” Emily whispered. “Could you shine the flashlight over here?” Dan obliged and Emily retrieved the packet. “Thanks. I can’t lose these.”
“What is it?” Dan asked, returning to his work.
“Pictures . . .” Emily said, her voice trailing off, “of happy days.” She flicked on the projector and the entire attic area was illuminated with a million pinpoint stars.
Dan looked around at the impressive spectacle. “Ain’t that cool!”
Emily opened the packet of photographs and flipped through the pictures. Dan stole a glance back at Emily. “Happy days, huh?” Dan said sadly.
“You wanna see a picture of my best friend?”
“Sure.”
Emily got up and handed Dan a photo of Emily and A.J. sitting cheek to cheek on a picnic blanket. “That’s a good picture of you! You oughta put that one in a frame and keep it where you can see it every day.”
“No. That would make me sad.”
“How come?”
“I don’t get to see A.J. anymore. She moved away and then we had to move away.” The projected stars inched slowly around the room, covering Dan and Emily’s bodies. The hypnotic strains of “Nessun Dorma” played softly in the semi-darkness. Emily turned to the next photograph. It was a picture of her father, looking glum and clutching a beer. The projector cast a pinpoint beam of light onto the photograph that instantly transfixed Emily.
Dan looked over and saw the photograph. “Who’s that?”
“My dad,” Emily said quietly, almost trancelike.
“He doesn’t look too happy in that picture.”
“He’s not. He’s angry. He’s always angry.” Emily slipped further into a daze.
“Why is he angry?” Dan said in a whisper.
“He drinks too much. He makes bad decisions. That’s what Mom always says. That’s why we went on that camping trip to Moab. And then they fight and it gets so loud that I hide in my closet and close the door and ask God to make them stop yelling.” Emily fell deeper into the memory. “I hide in my closet with the big pillows . . . and it gets louder and louder . . . And then . . .” Emily looked up from the photo, her eyes far away. “There’s a loud scream.” Emily’s eyes widened as the sound of a blood-curdling scream wailed through her head. The photo packet hit the floor. Dan gently touched Emily’s shoulder. She jumped in fear, letting out a slight yelp. “Oh, no,” she said, realizing she’d spaced out.
“Patty?” Jane said, climbing the ladder.
Emily turned to the sound of Jane’s voice with a panicked look on her face. “Oh, gosh. She didn’t want me to say anything—” She quickly collected the photo packet.
“Patty?” Jane poked her head through the square