Into My Heart

IV

The morning heat was getting higher in the little town of Orange, as the sun was illuminating the impressive manor. It's 8 AM, and I am already inside the garden, waiting for further instructions. 

Just as I am ready to cross paths with Becky again, the door opens, and three women get out of it. I immediately recognize two of them from the painting - probably the two oldest daughters of Mrs and Mr Press. The two women have dark hair and clear, green eyes, and are dressed in classy dresses. When they see me, they turn to someone in the background: this time, it is Becky, who immediately walks to me.

As I am seriously staring at the three women, Becky says:

"Your presence in the Press property should not be acknowledged by the family, because it may be disturbing."

Her serious tone almost makes me smirk, but I restrain myself from doing so, thinking that it would be disrespectful in front of her employers. Speaking of which, they seem to now be intrigued by me.

As Becky shows me a door behind which I should go - or hide, maybe - one of the sisters, maybe the oldest, raises her hand to stop me from going.

"Don't worry, Mrs Sauerbrunn" she says in an arrogant yet respectful tone, touching Becky's shoulder in the process. As the blonde nods her head, the Press sister continues: "In fact, it is good that we get to assess the person who will take care of our sister. I am Channing Press, and this is my sister, Tyler. And you are?"

"Abigail Dahlkemper" I say, not shying away.

The sister named Tyler frowns.

"Aren't you the lost daughter of Andrew Dahlkemper?" she asks, and something in her voice indicates that she is not friends with my father, nor carries him in her heart.

"Indeed" I respond in a sarcastic tone.

"Mh."

Becky seems embarrassed.

"Your mother hired Mrs Dahlkemper, therefore we must trust her judgement" she explains, trying to be diplomatic.

"Mh" Channing Press lets out, raising her eyebrow. "And why would Mother hire you and not anybody else?"

This time, my tongue is untied:

"Maybe because I am good at discovering family secrets..." I say in a mysterious tone.

As Becky stares at me with dread, the Press sisters seem mad.

"Listen carefully, whoever you are, Mrs Little Nobody" Channing starts, getting closer to me, grabbing my arm tightly. As I raise my eyebrows, she whispers in my ear: "You're not gonna make it more than one day here, so instead of thinking you can uncover non-existent secrets, maybe you should take a step back and realize who you have in front of you."

When I am about to respond with a cold laugh, a voice behind us makes us jump and turn around at the same time, as Channing lets go of my arm:

"What is going on here, my beloved daughters?" Mrs Press asks, walking our way. When she realizes that Channing and Tyler and standing close to me, she smiles and continues: "Oh, I see you've made the acquaintance of Mrs Abigail Dahlkemper: she is there on her trial day in order to see if she can take care of your little sister."

Channing throws me a dark glare, before nodding her head and walking away, quickly followed by Tyler. Becky, on the other hand, stares at me, angry, while Mrs Press warmly smiles at me - it is as if she was glad someone stood up to her daughters.

Then, behind her, a girl in a wheelchair appears, staring at me as if she had never seen a blonde girl before.

Her eyes are dark, and her hair beautifully curled, mid-long. Her hands are deformed from her wrist to her fingers, in such a way that it must be difficult for her to grab objects in a regular way. She has an oxygen mask within reach, as medical respiratory tubes are coming out and into her nose, helping her breathe. Suddenly, I feel bad: she is seventeen years old, and probably has lived with her condition for all those years, being different, but thankfully coming from a rich family whose mother loves her more than anything else in this world.

Stacy Press hugs her daughter dearly, while the young lady only seems to be looking at me, as if she wasn't persuaded I belonged here. After a few seconds, Mrs Press turns toward me and says to her daughter:

"Mallory, honey, this is Abigail"    

The young girl doesn't respond.

Instead, Tyler Press walks up to her mother and says in a beyond bitter voice:

"Mother, you cannot hire this girl"

Mrs Press smirks.

"Why not?" she asks, obviously unbothered.

"Don't you see?" Channing Press continues, stepping in front of her younger sister. As their mother is sighing, she adds: "She is the daughter of-"

"I know whose daughter she is, my daughter." Mrs Press immediately interrupts her, before checking her watch and adding: "Listen, I have to go otherwise I'll be late for a very important meeting. Mallory, honey?" she then asks, turning to her disabled daughter, who has been listening all this time. "You want her as your nanny?"

Frowning, I stare at the girl, wondering what she would say: after all, all she had seen of me is me threatening and standing up to her sisters. As both Channing and Tyler have started arguing with their mother in low voices, pointing at me from time to time shamelessly, Mallory Press is staring at me, raising an eyebrow.

At the general surprise but her mother's, she declares:

"I like her, yes."

"No fucking way" Channing hisses, shrugging. "Mother, you're letting a seventeen-year-old decide who we are letting inside our family, and-"

Mrs Press raises her arm.

"Sometimes I wonder who among you three is seventeen, hija" she declares, before shaking her head and turning toward me, adding: "Abigail, I expect you to start at dawn tomorrow morning, is that okay?"

I nod my head, before shaking the woman's hand.

"Of course."

After grabbing my stuff and saluting Mallory and her mother, I proudly walk past the two sisters, who are staring at me as if I just became their new enemy. Smirking, and also wondering why they wouldn't let a newcomer in their family, I was way more interested now in discovering their secrets, although I knew it could be dangerous.

As I am walking toward the entrance door, I feel two bright eyes locked on me.

I turn my head and, in the shadows, I see the silhouette of a woman with dark curly hair, and two green eyes beating the darkness of the night. The woman in question disappears within seconds, as I suddenly feel breathless by this phantomatic apparition. 

Nevertheless, I walk out of the Press property, until tomorrow morning at least...