Finally, Kalisa asked the question that had been gnawing at her ever since she'd first seen the picture. "Is his name… Lord Barley?"
The change in Lisa was immediate and sharp. She went utterly still, as if the sound of that name had turned her into stone. Her lips pressed into a thin line. Her gaze dropped to her hands.
Kalisa leaned closer, searching for her mother's face. "It is him, isn't it?"
Lisa didn't answer. She didn't nod, didn't shake her head, she just sat there, mute, her silence louder than any denial could have been.
Kalisa's voice was barely above a whisper now. "Mom… why does his name scare you?"
Kalisa reached for her mother's hand, but Lisa pulled back, slowly rising from the bed. She turned toward the window, her back to her daughter, her silhouette framed by the faint light of the streetlamp outside.
"Some names," she said finally, her voice low and uneven, "aren't meant to be spoken unless you're ready for what follows."
