“She just knows sometimes.”
The little angel sputtered and vanished and reappeared—finally hovering near his chest. It had never occurred to me before . . . did angels form from energy?
“Go ahead with your story. Mom’s watching something.”
I caught up with my surroundings and started to apologize, but he was already sharing a grin with my daughter.
“I’m starting to recognize the signs.” His smile faded as he picked up the thread of his story. “Aislyn was seven years younger than me. She . . . had trouble with her dreams.” He glanced at me, a new question forming in his eyes, but looked back to Eileen. “She’d have dreams that were so detailed, she’d think they’d happened in real life.” The sadness in his voice was thick. “Sometimes it was funny, I guess. Like the Christmas she wouldn’t open presents because she said she already had. She was four. I was eleven. It seemed funny then.
“But not when . . . ” he swallowed, “ . . . when she’d get really confused. About whether she was awake or not. And no one . . . I wasn’t . . . ” He paused, struggling with deeper emotions than he probably wanted to share.
“She knew you loved her.” Eileen laid a hand on his arm in comfort, and I was glad.
He cleared his throat and sat up against the railing again. “I hope so, kid. But the fact is, she was really unhappy. She grew up feeling . . . alone. None of us understood what was wrong, and doctors . . . medicine couldn’t fix this.” He opened his mouth as if to say more, but instead looked at me again.
He didn’t need to finish.
Later, Eileen would probably ask about poor Aislyn’s suicide, but for now, I think we both understood that Adam was willing to believe whatever I wanted to tell. And I also understood that he needed to believe—and protect—his wife, because he felt like he’d failed his sister. As if in agreement, the lilac spark flared brightly and then disappeared.
We were silent until Eileen, again, decided what needed to be said next.
“Well, I’m gonna go take a shower. Y’all can keep talking now.” She extended her hand to Adam, and they shook like two business partners sealing a deal. “It was nice to meet you. Maybe you and Cara can come over for dinner. Mom’s pretty good at making soup.”
Her job done, she stood and went back in the house, the screen door banging shut behind her. There was a theatrical pause as if the star actress had just left the stage, and Adam was the first audience member to comment on her performance.
“You are lucky to have her.” His deep voice was wistful as he stared at the empty doorway. “What was she like when she was younger?”
I tipped my head to the side and smiled at his sweet question.
“What? She’s great! In less than ten minutes, she’s convinced me she’s one of the most interesting people I’ve ever met.”
My mouth twisted as I tried to fight back an even bigger smile. What mom wouldn’t be proud? But unfortunately, what I was thinking was sort of pathetic. The two men I’d dated long enough to have potential as surrogate fathers, men who theoretically should’ve been interested in the parts of her childhood they’d missed, had never asked that. They weren’t bad guys or anything—they’d just never seen her as clearly as Adam. And there was nothing wrong with my making that observation, except that he was married and even thinking like that seemed inappropriate.
“Thanks. She is.” That was a good response—simple and true. No need to make such a big deal over every damn thing. I collected our mugs and stood up, refusing to acknowledge the confusion I saw in his eyes. “Coffee’s cold. Would you like more?” I waited for him to shake his head. “Be right back.”
Inside, I listened to make sure the shower water was running, and then went into the kitchen to rinse the mugs. The sink wasn’t in Adam’s line of sight, so I turned on the faucet and let the water run as I slumped over the counter. It was self-indulgent, maudlin, and in all ways pitiful; but Adam’s niceness towards me—and now towards my daughter—was making me feel like something was missing from our lives. I traced a repeating pattern around the tiny brown square tiles that my dad had laid. I’d never had the heart to replace the outdated countertop even when the avocado green appliances had one-by-one made way for stainless steel models.
I heard a cell phone ring, and then Adam talking, so I knew I could waste another few seconds getting myself in hand. There were much more important things to consider than whether Eileen or I were lonely. I had lots of questions about Cara’s condition, and any minute now Adam was going to ask me what I’d really seen when I’d made the fuss about a spider. He didn’t seem like the type to frighten easily, but he was so worried. And sad. Should I just lay it out there and let him decide how to interpret it? Or try to figure it out first?
And what about Eileen? She was going to ask questions as soon as he left, and Cara’s situation was way too much for a thirteen-year-old. Even an incredibly, audaciously, wise thirteen-year-old.
I fought back a yawn. I was too old to function on two hours of sleep. Without a good reason anyway. I forced myself upright to shut off the faucet. As I turned around, a flash of movement from the doorway caught my eye. Damnation. Can’t a girl catch a break?
I went outside with a sunny smile. “Sorry that took a minute!” He’d moved to the far corner of the porch and stood with his back to me. “Didn’t get enough sleep last night. Practically fell asleep on the counter!”
He didn’t turn when I joined him, seemingly lost in the view of sparse trees and marsh.
“Pretty, isn’t it?” A stark-white egret stood out among the
