Robert laughs nervously again. “I’m not. Is that the real story?”
She tells him some people think the vampire rabbit could’ve started as an odd representation of the Easter Bunny, a reminder of spring [Robert interjects, “The Easter Bunny gone mad.”], and other people think it’s a symbol of Freemasonry and others think it’s a cheeky two-finger salute to the cathedral and the Anglican Church in general. She adds, “No one really knows why. It’s all sassafras and lullabies.”
Robert pulls his gaze away from the rabbit. He says, “Sassa-what?”
Lily turns red. “Sassafras and lullabies. It—it’s an old saying. Means everything is bollocks.”
“Say it again.”
“No.”
“Your accent changes when you say that. You sound like someone else—”
“And you sound like a tosser. Always and forever.”
* * *
Lily insists she’s old enough to walk the ten minutes home from school by herself. She engages in a semiweekly, one-sided argument with Gran. She has taken to employing charts and video presentations accompanied by music and sound effects [she wants to make films one day] outlining increasingly elaborate reasoning as to why this small but earned bit of independence would not only benefit her character in the long run, it would also enhance the lives of everyone within the household. Gran patiently waits and smiles warmly until Lily is done with her presentations before she says, “No.” Appeals from Gramp and Auntie, both of whom having been won over [or worn down] to Lily’s side, hold no sway with Gran.
Upon returning from the Newcastle trip, Lily walks home from school with Gran. While their battle of wills in regard to the walking-home debate is building to an epic confrontation, if not a conclusion, Lily adores and is slightly in awe of Gran. She lives to make her laugh that closed-eyed, I-disapprove-but-you-are-too-much chuckle.
Lily doesn’t lie to or hide things from Gran. She tells her about the school trip and successfully sneaking out to see the Vampire Rabbit. Gran does not approve and tells her as much, but Lily, in describing her unwitting accomplice Robert as being as timid as a dormouse and twice as twitchy, elicits the laugh she craves.
Lily has to work to keep up with Gran. They are soon upon their semidetached home with the brick walls and a white trellis.
Lily asks, “Is Auntie home too?”
“She is.”
Lily enters the kitchen first. Auntie and Gramp are in their usual spots, sitting at the intimate round table with the sunny vinyl tablecloth. They both glance over the frames of their glasses, likely reading the same news stories; Gramp clutching his newspaper, Auntie hunched over her tablet. Before they say their hellos and come-give-us-a-hug-and-kiss and how-was-your-day, they smile their wan I-see-you-dear smiles.
Lily goes to Gramp first. He always sits at the end of the table facing out into the room because it’s easier for him to get out of that chair, the only one at the table with armrests. His cane leans against his right leg. The arthritis in his shoulders bothers him more than he lets on. Many mornings Gramp will ask Lily if he’s become the cute little old man he always wanted to be. She agrees but will include a cheeky quip about his level of cuteness. When younger, she chafed at his describing himself as “little.”
After a peck on his stubbly cheek she announces that she saw the Vampire Rabbit. Gran shakes her head but does not tell them of her sneaking away from the group to see it.
Gramp says, “Sounds better than any of my school trips.” He fluffs his paper, his own punctuation mark to the brief discussion, and disappears behind it.
Lily shimmies behind Gramp to get to Auntie Rams. She always sits in the chair with her back to the wall, hemmed in between her parents as though resigned to being trapped. While all adults are old, Lily knows Auntie Rams is younger than her nearly totally gray hair belies.
“Come give me a peck, luv.” Auntie holds her arms wide. It’s the safest place Lily knows to be. Auntie groans like she’s squeezing as hard as she can, but she’s gentle as always. “You’re getting so big.”
“Ugh, you say that every day.”
“It’s true every day.”
Lily asks, “Home before me? Did you cut classes again, Dr. Auntie?” She giggles at her own joke. Auntie Rams teaches biology and life sciences at the small marine university. Lily only recently learned that she used to be a children’s doctor but gave it up before they moved to England.
“Don’t be clever. I only had one lab this morning. No vampire rabbits to be seen, unfortunately.”
After a bit more light banter, more for the adults’ sake than hers, Lily escapes the table, leaving Gramp, Auntie, and Gran, totems in their spots at the old table. There they will remain until it’s time to prepare dinner.
Lily wonders what they will talk about when she leaves, but she will not spy on them today.
* * *
The morning after Lily’s birth, Dr. Awolesi finally responded to Ramola’s texts. An ambulance escorted by two army jeeps later arrived at the farmhouse. Ramola and Lily were thoroughly screened and transported to the hospital in North Attleboro.
During the first eighteen months post-rescue, with each day that passed—some more frightening, frustrating, and improbable than others—Ramola kept waiting for Natalie’s parents or Paul’s siblings to lay claim to Lily. None of them did; honoring
