Now, sitting on Nate’s bed, she opened herself to his thoughts on purpose.
“You’re thinking about the library,” she said. “About that desk with walls you sit in, wearing those huge headphones.”
“It’s called a carrel,” Nate said. “I borrow the headphones and a tape player—”
“And listen to that music you like,” Emily finished. “Music played on an old-fashioned instrument. Not a guitar, not a mandolin . . .”
Nate started to answer, but Emily cut him off.
“Don’t tell me! Just think the word really hard.” She closed her eyes, then opened them and grinned. “Lute! You listen to lute music!”
Nate tugged at the neck of his pajama shirt, but didn’t contradict her.
“Do another,” Emily said.
After a moment, she exclaimed, “The field trip you went on to hear a string quartet!”
Nate nodded. He pulled his eyebrows together, and Emily concentrated.
“Mom and Dad,” she said. “You’re thinking about how . . .” She trailed off. He was thinking about how they’d been fighting more and more. He was also telling Emily that it wasn’t her fault. That he’d known for a long time that she was different. That he, like their dad, didn’t care.
“But why?” she said. “Why am I different?”
“You can read people’s minds,” he stated.
“You can’t?” she asked.
The way he looked at her made goose bumps scatter over her. “Emily, most people can’t.”
“Oh,” she said. She felt naked, though of course she had her pajamas on.
“You have a gift,” Nate said earnestly. “An extremely cool, extremely unusual gift. It’s called telepathy.”
“Telepathy,” Emily repeated.
“I researched it,” Nate said.
“Because of me?”
“I wasn’t sure it was real, but . . . well . . .”
Emily frowned. “And it’s a gift? Are you sure? Because Mom says—”
“I know what Mom says, and I don’t agree. Yes, it’s a gift.” Nate hesitated. “But Emily . . .”
“You think I shouldn’t tell people,” Emily finished. She slumped. “That if I do, they’ll think I’m crazy, like Grandma Elnora.”
“No,” Nate said. “I mean, yes about not telling people, but not the part about Grandma Elnora.”
“I love Grandma Elnora,” Emily said defensively.
“I do, too. I sometimes wonder if she messes with Mom on purpose, but I don’t think she’s crazy.”
“But you think I should ‘blend in,’ like how Mom always says.”
“That’s not it,” Nate said. “Or maybe it is, a little.” He gazed at her. “Do you know what I want, Emily?”
She did, but she let him say the words. Anyway, her throat felt cloggy all of a sudden.
He found her foot with his, connecting them across the bed. “All I want is for you to be happy.”
CHAPTER SIX
Ava
Ava went from Rocky’s Diner to the apartment Mama shared with Aunt Elena. She let herself in through the unlatched screen door and heard Mama and Aunt Elena talking in the small living room. When Ava realized what they were talking about, she pressed herself against the kitchen wall and kept quiet.
“Klara, you can’t go on like this forever,” Aunt Elena said.
“I tried, Elena,” Mama said. “You know I did.”
“Only after I practically pushed you out the door. Come to think of it, I did push you out the door.”
“Another woman was in my house, sitting at my dining room table! What did you expect me to do?”
“Here’s a thought,” Aunt Elena said. “You could have marched into your house and claimed your dining room table. While you were at it, you could have claimed your husband! But no, you ran away like a child.” She sighed. “Klara, you’re not a child.”
“If Emily didn’t get to grow up, I shouldn’t get to either,” Mama said.
“For heaven’s sake. You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Ava heard the rustle of sofa cushions, followed by footsteps. Quickly, she opened the screen door and let it thump shut.
“Ava! You startled me!” said Aunt Elena, who held a plate sprinkled with cookie crumbs.
“Sorry,” Ava said. “I came to talk to Mama.”
Aunt Elena tilted her head toward the living room and said, “Go on in. Can I get you something to drink? A Coke?”
“Yes, please. Thanks.”
Ava barely had time to greet her mother and sit down beside her before Aunt Elena returned with more cookies and Ava’s Coke.
“This is a nice surprise,” Aunt Elena said. “How’s your day been going, Ava?”
For a few minutes, they made light chitchat. Aunt Elena and Mama gave no indication that Ava had interrupted a strained conversation, and Ava was relieved to see that Mama was holding herself together. Mama was better than she’d been when she first returned to Willow Hill. She was better than she’d been even last month. Just, “better” wasn’t enough.
Ava was surer than ever of the theory she’d proposed to her sisters. Mama was stuck. She didn’t want to be, but she was like a fly trapped in amber, and the amber was her guilt about Emily. Ava renewed her determination to tug her free.
“Can we talk about Emily?” she asked abruptly.
Mama flinched. “What?”
With no time for the slow buildup, Ava turned to her aunt and said, “Aunt Elena, you’re one of the people who says Emily never existed. But your expression sometimes . . .” Ava cocked her head. “Is that what you really and truly think?”
Aunt Elena’s eyes flitted to Mama. Then she stared at her hands. “I don’t share Vera’s opinion that Klara made Emily up,” she said carefully.
“What is your opinion?”
Aunt Elena hesitated, as if she were standing on a ledge trying to decide whether or not to leap. Then, in a tumble of words, she told Ava that although she had no memory of Emily’s existence, she did remember Mama confiding in her about her Wishing Day wish.
“Mama told you? She told you about the wish that erased Emily?!” Sparks zipped and zapped in Ava’s brain cells. “Aunt Elena!”
“What . . . exactly . . . did I tell you, Elena?” Mama asked, her face ashen. “And when?”
Did Mama not remember, or was she testing Aunt Elena?
“You told me how guilty you felt,” Aunt Elena said. “It was right after you made your wishes. Immediately after. You told me you’d promised Emily
