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Copyright © HK Carlton 2017. All Rights Reserved, Totally Entwined Group Limited, T/A Totally Bound Publishing.

Kaylah closed her eyes and shampooed her hair. The hot spray from the shower stung her skin, but she didn’t care.

Her mind went back to the day Autumn and her friend Emily had set off for college.

“Best laid plans…” she mumbled in the mist.

It had started out as a bright, beautiful, sunny day, perfect for new beginnings.

In the driveway, Kaylah tried not to wring her hands.

“Stop looking like that,” Autumn warned.

“I should be taking you, though,” Kaylah repeated under her breath, as she Tetris-ed another box into the hatchback. It’d been an ongoing discussion since the girls had come up with the idea of driving alone.

Autumn slammed the trunk of the overstuffed compact car. Her eyes sparkled with excitement, and all the other aggravation of the last few weeks fell away.

“We won’t be in the same city for a while.” Autumn frowned and draped her arms around Kaylah. “It’s gonna be weird. We’ve never really been away from each other for more than a night or two.”

“It won’t be long,” Kaylah reassured. “I’ll get things settled here and I’ll join you in about a week’s time—if all goes well, that is. Keep your fingers crossed. But I really wish I was taking you now.”

“But this is kind of appropriate, too. I’m supposed to drive off into the sunset, while you wave profusely from the driveway. This is the way it’s supposed to be—the child leaving the nest and all that. And next weekend when you collect the keys and take possession of the new house, I’ll probably crash with you because I’ll have missed you so much.”

“Me, too,” Emily chimed in, joining the hug.

Kaylah nodded. The closing dates on the old house and the new place were about a week apart and coincided with Autumn’s orientation week.

“Bye, Mrs. MacDonough.”

Kaylah hugged Emily, as well. “Take care, Em.”

“You, too. We’ll see you next week.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

Autumn squeezed her one last time. “I love you, Mom. Thank you for everything.” She sniffled.

“You promised. No tears until we can’t see each other anymore.”

“I know. I’m sorry. It’s just harder than I thought.” Autumn let her go then took one last look at the house.

“First step to the rest of your life.” Kaylah wiped her daughter’s rosy cheeks. “I’m so proud to be your mama. I love you, baby.”

“I love you. And I’ll see you—”

“Next week.” Kaylah managed a smile as she finished the sentence.

The girls got into the car and Kaylah waved profusely as they pulled away—just as Autumn had predicted—before she gave way to tears.

Kaylah rinsed the suds from her hair as the old pipes started to knock inside the walls. From experience, she knew the water would turn cold within seconds.

Turning off the taps before that happened, she then grabbed a towel from the rack and wound the terrycloth around her shoulder-length hair. She yanked another towel from the shelf and dried off.

The entire bathroom was filled with steam. Obviously, it needed a new fan and some better ventilation. Another addition to the ever-growing list of upgrades this ‘new’ house needed. What a nightmare the entire undertaking had turned into. Even the contractors she’d interviewed had shied away from the massive workload the turn-of-the-century home presented. It required updating on every level, not to mention the work it needed on the outside.

The home had been grossly misrepresented, but Kaylah blamed herself. She and Autumn had found and bought it, sight unseen, over the Internet. It had been so beautiful—or so they’d thought.

She’d gone so far as to contact a lawyer, hoping he could give her a rundown of her options. But, as of this morning, he still had not returned her call.

Nothing was going right. Nothing had since Autumn had left for school.

Kaylah stepped out of the shower and looked toward the vanity mirror. It was frosted with condensation, but that’s not what caught her eye. She pulled the towel tightly around her body as her gaze darted around the tiny room. The hair on the back of her neck stood up and a shiver ran through her body. Her heart began to pound. It looked as if someone—or something—had written a message in the film on the glass.

Jerusalem.

The word had started to run, streaking the letters down the glass, dripping off the edge and into the sink below.

That name. She’d been seeing it everywhere recently—on newspapers, street signs, on the side of transport trucks, when she flicked on the TV. She’d even driven through a town near Geneva, New York, named Jerusalem on her way here. Now this.

Irrational anger flooded her. “What are you trying to tell me?” she screamed.

She picked up the closest thing—her handheld hairdryer—and threw it at the mirror. The glass blew out and shattered all over the sink and the bathroom floor—one more thing to add to the repair list.

Kaylah hurried to her bedroom. She dressed quickly then left the house.