Maisie was sitting in the middle of the floor in the main room in her night gown with her arms around her knees looking at the fire. She had been there for 20 minutes and nobody had been able to move her. Not Clara, not Nelly, not even Wesley, who had come back downstairs specifically to try. Calder came and sat on the floor beside her. Not in a chair.
On the floor. He wasn't entirely sure why it just seemed wrong to be above her when she was sitting like that. Can't sleep, he said. Maisie shook her head. Is it the room?
She shook her head again. The noise? She considered this. Benny's loud, she said. He is.
Calder agreed. I'm going to have to figure out what to do about that. You can't make him stop. Maisie said with the certainty of someone who had already tried every available option. He doesn't know how to stop.
I know. I meant figure out what to do with the noise. Like maybe put it to use. Maisie looked at him sideways. How do you put noise to use?
I don't know yet. I'll think about it. He leaned his back against the seti. You want to tell me what's actually keeping you up? She was quiet for a long moment.
Four-year-olds were not in Calder's limited experience, known for articulating complex emotional situations. But Maisie had a way of being still and then saying the exact true thing which he was beginning to suspect was specific to her. "Are we going to be here tomorrow? " she said. "Yes. " "And the day after? " "Yes. " She picked at a loose thread on the hem of her night gown. The last place said, "Yes, too," she said.
And then we weren't there anymore. Calder felt that land somewhere in his chest, slow and heavy. What happened at the last place? He said carefully. I don't know, Maisie said.
Wesley knows. But he doesn't like to talk about it. All right. He didn't push it. I can't tell you what happened at the last place or the place before that.