River's End. Rückkehr nach River's End, engl. Ausgabe

out on the beach to play, to build sand castles, just the two of them. But her aunt had said no. It wasn't allowed. They'd argued, at first in those low, hissing voices adults never think children can hear. But Olivia had heard and, hearing, had sat by that big window to stare harder and harder at the water. And as the voices got louder, she made herself not hear because they hurt her stomach and made her throat burn.

 

And she would not hear Daddy call Aunt Jamie bad names, or Uncle David say in a rough voice, Watch your step, Sam. Just watch your step. This isn't going to help you.

 

Finally, Aunt Jamie had said they had to go and had carried her out to the car. She'd waved over her aunt's shoulder, but Daddy hadn't waved back. He'd just stared, and his hands had stayed in fists at his sides.

 

She hadn't been allowed to go back to the beach house and watch the waves again.

 

But it had started before that. Weeks before the beach house, more weeks before the monster came.

 

It had all happened after the night Daddy had come into her room and awakened her. He'd paced her room, whispering to himself. It was a hard sound, but when she'd stirred in the big bed with its white lace canopy she hadn't been afraid. Because it was Daddy. Even when the moonlight spilled through the windows onto his face, and his face looked mean and his eyes too shiny, he was still her daddy.

 

Love and excitement had bounced in her heart.

 

He'd wound up the music box on her dresser, the one with the Blue Fairy from Pinocchio that played "When You Wish upon a Star."

 

She sat up in bed and smiled sleepily. "Hi, Daddy. Tell me a story."

 

"I'll tell you a story." He'd turned his head and stared at his daughter, the small bundle of tousled blond hair and big brown eyes. But he'd only seen his own fury. "I'll tell you a goddamn story, Livvy my love. About a beautiful whore who learns how to li