But the miniature bird hovered, darted, and batted against the wall. Sam wondered how they could guide it to the window without damaging a wing. At this rate it was going to die of stress or exhaustion.
“Let me have your hat, Holls,” he said, taking the pink baseball cap off her head. As the hummingbird harrowed and hovered in the corner of the room, Sam gently used the cap to constrain it, until he felt the bird drop into the canvas pouch.
Holly gave a wordless exclamation.
Carefully Sam transferred the bird to the palm of his hand and went to the open window.
“Is he dead?” Holly asked anxiously, climbing onto the sofa beside Lucy.
Sam shook his head. “Just resting,” he whispered.
Together the three of them watched and waited, while Sam extended his cupped hands beyond the sill. Slowly the bird recovered. Its heart, no bigger than a sunflower seed, spent heartbeats in music too fast and fragile to hear. The bird rose from Sam’s hands and flickered away, disappearing into the vineyard.
“How did he get into the house?” Sam asked, looking from one of them to the other. “Did someone leave the door open?” With interest, he saw that Lucy’s face had gone scrupulously blank.
“No,” Holly said in excitement. “Lucy did it!”
“She did what?” Sam asked, not missing the way Lucy had blanched.
“She made it out of a juice glass,” Holly exclaimed. “It was in her hand, and it turned into a bird. Right, Lucy?”
“I…” Visibly agitated, Lucy searched for words, her mouth opening and closing. “I’m not quite sure what happened,” she finally managed to say.
“A bird flew out of your hand,” Holly said helpfully. “And now your juice glass is gone.” She picked up her own juice glass and thrust it forward. “Maybe you can do it again.”
Lucy shrank back. “Thank you, no, I … you should keep that, Holly.”
She looked so thoroughly guilty and red-faced with worry that it actually gave weight to the crazy idea that had entered Sam’s mind.
And now he knew why.
It didn’t matter that it defied logic. Sam’s own experiences had taught him that the truth didn’t always seem logical.
As he stared at her, he found himself trying to separate out a tangle of thoughts and emotions. For his entire adult life, he had kept his feelings organized in the way that some people kept their cutlery in a knife block, sharp edges concealed. But Lucy was making that impossible.
He had never told anyone about his own ability. There had never been a point. But in an astonishing turn of events, it had become a basis for connection with another human being. With Lucy.
“Nice trick,” he said softly, and Lucy blanched and looked away from him.
“But it wasn’t a trick,” Holly protested. “It was real.”
“Sometimes,” Sam told his niece, “real things seem like magic, and magic seems real.”
“Yes, but—”
“Holls, do me a favor and get Lucy’s medicine bottle from the kitchen table. Also some water.”
“Okay.” Holly jumped off the sofa, causing Lucy to wince.
Grooves of pain and distress had appeared on Lucy’s face. The exertions of the past few minutes had been too much for her.
“I’ll replace the cold packs in a few minutes,” Sam said.
Lucy nodded, practically vibrating with misery and worry. “Thank you.”
Sam lowered to his haunches beside the sofa. He didn’t ask for explanations, only let a long minute pass. In the silence, he took one of Lucy’s hands, turned it palm-up and stroked the insides of the pale fingers until they were half curled like petals.
The color had leached from Lucy’s face, except for the crimson band that crossed the tops of her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. “Whatever Holly said,” she managed, “it isn’t what—”
“I understand,” Sam said.
“Yes, but I don’t want you to think—”
“Lucy. Look at me.” He waited until she brought her gaze to his.
She shook her head in bewilderment.
Wanting to make things clear, but hardly able to believe he was doing it, Sam extended his free hand to the terrarium on the coffee table. The miniature orchids, temperamental as usual, had started to droop and turn brown. As he let his palm hover over the vessel, the flowers and button ferns strained upward toward his touch, the petals regaining their creamy whiteness, the green plants reviving.
Silent and startled, Lucy moved her gaze from the terrarium to Sam’s face. He saw the wonder in her eyes, the quick shimmer of unshed tears, the flush rising up her throat. Her fingers gripped his tightly.
“Since I was ten,” Sam said in answer to her unspoken question. He felt exposed, could feel his heart beating uncomfortably. He had just shared something too personal, too intrinsic, and it alarmed him that he didn’t regret it. He wasn’t sure that he could stop himself from doing and saying even more in the irresistible urge to get closer to her.
“I was seven,” Lucy whispered, a hesitant smile ghosting across her lips. “Some broken glass turned into fireflies.”
He stared at her, fascinated. “You can’t control it?”
She shook her head.
“Here’s the medicine,” Holly said brightly, coming back into the room. She brought the prescription bottle and a large plastic cup of water.
“Thank you,” Lucy murmured. After taking the medicine, she cleared her throat and said carefully, “Holly, I was wondering if we could keep it private, about how the hummingbird got into the room…”
“Oh, I already knew not to tell anyone,” Holly assured her. “Most people don’t believe in magic.” She shook her head regretfully as if to say, too bad for them.
“Why a hummingbird?” Sam asked Lucy.
She had difficulty answering, seeming to struggle with the novelty of discussing something she had never dared put into words. “I’m not sure. I have to figure out what it means.” After a pause, she said, “Don’t stay in one place, maybe. Keep moving.”
“The Coast Salish say the hummingbird appears in times of pain or sorrow.”
“Why?”
Taking the medicine bottle from her, Sam replaced the cap as he replied in a neutral tone. “They say it means everything’s going to get better.”
* * *
“Holly, you’re a corporate pirate,” Sam said that night, delivering a handful of Monopoly money to his giggling niece. “I’m out, guys.”
After a dinner of lasagna and salad, the four of them—Sam, Lucy, Mark, and Holly—had played board games in the living room. The atmosphere had been fun and easygoing, with no one behaving as if anything unusual had happened.
