Page 65 of When the Snowman Whispered
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“I have no idea, but. . .my mother has something to do with it.”
“We should call her.”
“She’s not going to answer. And if she does, she won’t be any help. I called her about everything coming alive and she laughed like it was impossible. But now. . .now, I bet she knew what was happening.”
A cold shiver ran through me. “What do you mean?”
“What?”
“You said everything coming alive? What do you mean?” I tried to keep the concern off my face.
“I’m going to sound crazy, if I tell you.”
“Don’t worry. You’ve already set a high standard for crazy. We might as well talk about last night. I’m not going anywhere.”
She stirred, looked away, and held the quilts around her. “Never mind.”
“No.”
She gripped the blankets and rose from the couch.
“Where are you going?”
She paused. “I don’t know.”
“Please, sit down.”
She turned away from me. “I’m fine now. Thanks for everything, but I need to. . .be by myself.”
“No.”
“Yes, Daniel. I’ll talk to you later.”
“No. Goddamn it. We have to talk about it now.”
“Fuck that.” She walked away, dragging the blankets with her. “It’s too insane.”
I yelled back at her, “Like I said, I don’t care!”
She disappeared.
“Faith!” I jumped up and followed her past the huge dining table with the artistic chandelier and walls of trees. “I’m not going anywhere.”
She stopped in front of the wall of trees and stared at them. Blinking, she turned around and looked in front of her. I turned that way. Huge windows served as the wall. I’d been so preoccupied by the paintings I hadn’t noticed the breathtaking view. . .or the ice sculpture that stood outside, facing the house.
That was the one in jail, yesterday. The one with the big dick.
Before Faith fell asleep in the snow, she’d whispered something.
I kept replaying those words in my mind.
“My snowman.”
The ice sculpture glistened in the sunlight. The temperature must’ve been warmer today because all her other sculptures stood in little puddles. If the snow didn’t let up, they would all be melted by the afternoon.
“My snowman.”
