When Penelope’s in-laws wanted her twins to spend time with their grandparents, she reluctantly allowed it, with her husband convincing her they could spend time together. But when Penelope phoned to check in on her girls, she discovered something horrific.
It all started innocently enough. My husband, Seth, and I decided to take our twin girls, Ava and Blair, to visit his parents for the weekend.
Seth’s parents, Paul and Linda, lived not too far away from us, but they were surrounded by rolling hills and endless fields.
“The girls should love it,” Seth said. “They’ll love the flower bushes and everything. And also, they haven’t really spent a lot of time with my parents, so this is going to be good.”
“Yeah,” I replied. “I guess so. And it will be good for us to get outside for a while.”
“Actually,” Seth said, “it is the summer holidays. Why don’t we pack a bag for the twins and let them stay for a few days? My mom did mention it a few weeks ago.”
That made me uneasy. The twins hadn’t really been exposed to Seth’s parents, and I was always worried about them telling the twins the truth.
Seth and I adopted Ava and Blair as infants, and we’ve always treated them like they were our own. That’s because they were just that. However, we just hadn’t told them about their adoption yet.
“We’ll wait until they’re older,” I told Seth. “Like, let’s wait until they’re 16 at least.”
“I agree, love,” he said. “We can’t disturb everything they know right now. And anyway, seven is too young to understand everything.”
But Paul and Linda had always been a bit strange about the whole thing. They always said they loved my children like any of the other grandchildren, but I knew they treated them differently.
They also had a tradition of inviting their grandchildren over for summer visits, and if the twins stayed, this would be their first time.
“Okay,” I said eventually. “We can pack their things, and if they want to stay, then by all means.”
Although I said that to my husband, the truth was that I was still hesitant about leaving my children with Linda. Over the years, she would buy the twins cheap, thoughtless gifts while splurging on the other grandchildren.
And even when they were babies, she had avoided holding them and often seemed to forget they existed unless prompted.
“Oh, sorry, Penelope,” Linda said. “I’m just about to go into the kitchen and sort out some food; I’ll hold the kids later.”
But still, Seth was excited about the visit, insisting it was an important family tradition and that once the kids were there, we could have some alone time.
“It’s too late to book a place for us, Pen,” he said, “but we could have a staycation. It will be great for us. We barely get a chance to be alone and intimate.”
So, with a mix of apprehension and hope, I agreed.
When we got there, Linda greeted us with her usual warm smile.
“It’s so good to see you all!” she exclaimed, but I noticed she didn’t make much eye contact with the girls.
“Oh boy,” I muttered under my breath.
This was just the beginning.
“So!” Linda said, “You girls are going to sleep in the shed out back. It’s going to be a little adventure! And don’t worry, we’ve set it up nicely with beds and everything.”
Immediately, I hesitated again. A shed? A shed seemed old and unfit for children.
“I’m sure it’s fine, Pen,” Seth said. “My mother won’t put our kids into a place that they shouldn’t be in. They probably did it up nicely for the grandkids.”
But why didn’t we check it out before leaving? That’s something I’ll always ask myself.
“Come on, love,” Seth said when the girls were running around with Lila, the dog. “They’re settled in, and they’re fine. And Mom is making a chicken pot pie for dinner. They’re going to be fine. And Dad said that Jesse is on the way with the other kids.”
So, we left and went out for dinner together.
“Date nights are important, Pen,” Seth said when we sat down at the table.
We only had a few hours to ourselves, and then Seth had to get back to work. His hours were ridiculous because he worked for an overseas company.
Later that evening, I called the girls to check in and make sure they were okay. Their voices, usually full of energy, sounded subdued.
“Mom, we’re scared,” Ava whispered. “There are weird noises here, and we think we saw some rats.”
“And the hay is very sharp, and it’s been poking our skin when we try to sleep,” Blair chimed in.
Hay?
“What hay? Where are the other kids?” I asked.
“They’re inside,” Blair said. “Gran said that they can sleep upstairs in the beds. Why can’t we? It’s cold out here.”