In truth, though it was occasionally crushing to be so alone, Rae was glad that Luke didn't understand what she was going through. Not fully. There was a chance that April and Aunt Anna Beth were still alive out there. A large one. Aunt Anna Beth was more than capable of keeping both of them alive. The way he loved George was special. If he ever lost her the way Rae had lost Elliot, Rae was certain that her cousin would have an even tougher time recovering than she had.
She was also glad, as much as her fragile state of heart would allow her to be glad about anything, that Luke wasn't aware of how she'd felt, how she'd considered giving up, right at the beginning there, too. Because he'd be furious at her.
Rae's box, she noticed, was significantly smaller than Luke's. “Four, three, two, one...” she counted, then opened the box.
Just as quickly, Rae's face washed over with horror. “Wh...what is this?” she asked, staring blankly at the doll cradle and swallowing thickly. “A cradle... it's... it's covered in blood and...” Throwing the box down, she shook her head no. “N-no. Not again. Not again!”