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There was so much Amelia wanted to tell him—about the letter, the ghost, all of it, except for her own dark secret.
    He never needs to know.
    “Bard,” she paused. “Are we okay?”
    “Of course we are.” But as usual, he sounded hurried and disinterested. “I just have to go now. I'll make it up to you this weekend. I swear it.”
    She rolled her eyes. “Alright. Love you. I'll probably be in bed when you get home. I'm pretty tired.”
    “Great. I'll see you later.”
    Amelia dropped her cell phone on the table and put the roast into the oven. Dinner for one again, basically.
    “How's my pretty girl?” She said, smiling at Lottie, who was swinging happily in her baby swing.
    The baby made a burbling sound.
    “Good. I'm glad someone is.” Amelia poured herself a vodka spritzer—her first drink in over a year. From what she had read, one wouldn't hurt, and she wouldn't be breastfeeding again for hours since she alternated with formula.
    She turned on some music as she took the rolls out of the oven and finished other dinner preparations. The rest of the evening was spent cuddling with Lottie and with a book she had been meaning to read—a murder mystery that set her on edge. She had to put it down before the end, her anxiety rising.
    After dinner, she took her meds and tucked Lottie in to bed. The baby had started sleeping well for several hours at a clip and went down easily as long as her stomach was full. “Goodnight, beautiful girl.”
    She stole one last look at the baby's milky white skin and pale tuft of hair and left the nursery. The sense of unease she had had returned.
    Everything's fine. It's just your mind playing tricks on you.
    Amelia decided to dig Lark's number out and give her a call. The m oms group was coming around again in a couple of days, and she hoped the other woman would be there. She hadn't reached out until now, but she found she wanted to. She desperately needed a friend here.
    “Hello, is this Lark?”
    “Of course. Amelia! Right?”
    The other woman's voice put a smile on her face. This was a good idea. It's so nice to hear a friendly voice.
    “Yes, right. Sorry to bother you.”
    “You're no bother! What's up? I'm bored. The kids are with their grandparents for a week right now, but I'm not complaining.” Lark laughed.
    “Oh, that's cool. I hope you're enjoying it.”
    “I am.”
    Amelia paused.
    What was that?
    A soft thud had come from overhead. She shook her head. It was probably just the house settling.
    “You still there? Can I come over to your house, or is your hubby home from work?”
    Amelia laughed. “Of course he's not. Long hours. It sucks. Sure. Come on over. I know you wanted to see the place. We can have some wine and munchies, and I'll stay up past my bedtime. I doubt Bard will be home for at least a couple more hours.”
    “Great. I'll be there in 15 minutes. Thanks for the invite or for letting me invite myself anyway!”
    “Of course.”
    Amelia grinned. Lark was a character, but she liked her—more than she had anyone else she ’d met in a long time.
    She thought again of the thud she had heard upstairs.
    I should probably just go check on Lottie.
    The monitor was silent, but she couldn't let it go. Her stomach flipped, the feeling of something not being right returning.
    Damn it. There's nothing the matter. Even the ghost won't hurt me. She means well.
    Amelia mounted the stairs slowly, her chest clenching. She tried taking deep breaths to ease the anxiety. When she reached the top step, the baby's door was closed.
    “Not again. Lucy, I know you're in there.”
    Her heart thudding in her hears, Amelia opened the door. A shadow stood beside the crib, and she shrieked in terror.
    “Hello, Amelia. My, my. You sure have been busy.”
     
    Chapter 7: Ghosts of the Past
                  Amelia wanted to run, but she stood rooted in fear. The baby was only feet away from this monster. “Randy, what are you doing here?” She tried to sound