“I can’t take it anymore,” she burbled, trying to wipe her face. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It wasn’t supposed to be like this at all!” she exclaimed, and my grip loosened. “You aren’t supposed to be here!” she shouted, standing up out of my arms and looking at Takata. “She’s not your daughter. She’s Monty’s!” she raged, red-rimmed eyes glaring and her hair all over the place. “He gave up everything for her and Robbie when you left to chase your music. Sacrificed his own dreams to support us. You made that choice, and you can’t come back. Rachel is not yours! I can’t—” Her balance wobbled, and I reached for her. “I want it to stop!” she screamed, and I fell back when she swung blindly at me. “Go away! Go away! Just make it stop!”

Shocked, I backpedaled until I hit the counter, frightened. I didn’t know what to do. My mother stood with her arms wrapped around herself and her head down, sobbing, and I was afraid to touch her.

Takata never looked at me. Jaw clenched and eyes bright with unshed tears, he crossed the room and, without hesitation, wrapped his long, wiry arms around her.

“Go away,” she sobbed, but he had pinned her arms between them, and it didn’t look like she really wanted him to leave.

“Shhhh,” he crooned as my mother melted in his embrace, putting her head to his chest and sobbing. “It’s okay, Allie. It’s going to be okay. Robbie and Rachel belong to Monty. They aren’t mine. He’s their dad, not me. It’s going to be fine.”

I stared at his height, measuring it against my own, seeing my tangled curls in his dreadlocks, seeing my lean strength in his limbs. My gaze dropped to his feet in a pair of flip-flops—my feet on someone else’s body.

Leaning against the counter, I put a hand to my stomach. I was going to be sick.

“I want you to go,” my mom cried, more softly now, and Takata rocked her where they stood.

“You’re fine,” he soothed, his arms around her but his eyes on me. “It’s all going to pass over and nothing will change. Nothing’s going to change.”

“But he’s dead,” she wailed. “How could he be here when he was dead?”

Takata’s eyes met mine, and I mouthed, “Al.” Stark fear melted his expression to one of horror, his attention going to the amulet on the table and then to me. I felt a surge of bitterness. He knew all about me. I knew nothing of him. Son of a bitch.

“Did he touch you?” Takata said, pushing her from him enough so he could see her face. “Alice, did he touch you!”

His voice was high and frightened, and my mom shook her head, looking where their bodies met. “No,” she said, her tone flat. “It wasn’t him, and I played along with it until I could get him in a circle. But we talked…all night. I had to keep him here so he couldn’t hurt Rachel. He wants to use her like a blow-up doll and then give her to someone to pay off a debt.”