The Last Daughter (Tales of the Scrimshaw Doll) by Jessica Ferguson Page B

about my family, Trent. There may be a time...” She hesitated. “At some point, I may have to walk away from them, but only after I find out who and what they are. Can you understand that? I have to know who I am and who I came from. I have to!”
    Trent didn’t answer but processed every word she said.
    She looked around. “I feel like something’s watching us, waiting for us in the next room, every room and around every corner.” She shivered. “This kitchen feels so safe.”
    Trent nodded. “I guess that’s why I gravitate here every morning. My family always hung out in the kitchen, at any time of day. We talked things over there with our parents. Yeah, I guess the kitchen always felt safe when I was growing up too.” He looked at her. “And maybe there is something in the other room—something evil watching us, waiting—metaphorically speaking.”
    “What do you mean?”
    He shook his head. “Just what I said.” His eyes bored into her.
    “You’re creeping me out,” she said.
    Trent blew out a breath. “I’ve been creeped out all night.”
    Her eyes grew big and round.
    “I guess I can’t put it off any longer. Follow me.” He took her hand and led her from the kitchen to the living room, straight to the front door. He didn’t say a word, and Rayna didn’t either.
    “Where are you—?
    “Don’t say a word, Rayna. One wrong word might push me over the top. My gut tells me to throw you over my shoulder and head out the back door but I know I can’t do that.”
    When they reached the front door, he stepped aside and motioned for her to open it. Hesitantly, looking at him suspiciously, she did.
    The box was still there. Untouched. He had been hoping it would be gone, hoping someone had thought it was something of value and free for the taking. Disappointment washed over him.
    “What is it? How did you know it was here?”
    Her words penetrated the fog in his brain. He studied what he might say to her, running the words through his mind before he spoke them aloud. He’d have to be honest at the risk of angering her.
    “Trent, do you know who brought it? What’s in it?”
    He shook his head. “I don’t know anything. I slept down here last night, just in case, and heard something on the porch. When I opened the door,” he motioned. “this is what I saw.”
    “Then, why didn’t you bring it inside. Someone could have stolen it. There might be something of value inside...a family album with pictures.” She glared at him. “You wanted someone to take it, didn’t you?”
    “Yeah, I wanted someone to take it!”
    “Trent, how could you!” She stomped her foot looking like an outraged little girl.
    “How could I? You had just been shot at. What am I supposed to think when a strange package turns up on the front steps the very same night? So yeah, I was more than hoping someone would steal it, I was praying it’d be gone this morning, but evidently it’s meant for you to have whatever it is, so bring it inside.” He walked away from her. “Regardless of what you think, Rayna, I was trying to protect you.”
    “I don’t need protection!” she snapped. She shoved through the door and stepped onto the porch. He thought she’d come back inside, but she didn’t. She elected to sit on the steps and open her package. Fine. More power to her. But the moment he thought it, he turned around and joined her. The guy with the pellet gun could be anywhere.
    “I can only protect you if you want to be protected. And you’re right—I can’t protect you from my gut feelings. I hope I’m wrong. About everything. One hundred and ten percent wrong.”
    While he talked, she unwrapped. He noticed how she methodically peeled the tape away and opened each end. Slowly. Hesitantly. “You’re as leery as I am.”
    “Because you’ve creeped me out,” she answered.
    “A mysterious picture shows up, a questionable trash man. You’re shot at. Now this, and I’ve creeped you out. That’s a good