Magic hour: a novel (51 page)

“Years?” George looked shaken by that, as if he’d never considered it. “You want me to stay here for
years
while my daughter lives with you? While she learns to call you Mommy? And I get to be whom? The man next door? Uncle George?”

It was Julia’s turn to look shaken. “I could move to Seattle. . . .”

“You don’t get it, Dr. Cates.” His voice was gentle but firm. “I love my daughter. All those days behind bars, I dreamed of finding her, of taking her to the park and teaching her to play the guitar.”

“You love the
idea
of a daughter. I’ve read everything there is to know about you, George. When Alice lived with you, you were always gone. She was in day care five days a week. Zoë said you were never home for dinner or on weekends. You don’t even know your daughter. And she doesn’t know you.”

“That’s not my fault,” he said softly.

“I . . . love her,” Julia said, her eyes filling with tears.

“I know you do. That’s the problem. That’s why she can’t keep living with you or be your patient, here or in Seattle.”

“I don’t understand. If I can help—”

“She’ll never love me,” he said, “not as long as you’re around.”

Julia drew in a sharp breath. Slowly, she closed her eyes, battling for control, then she looked up at George. Everyone in the room knew there was nothing she could say to that.

“I’ll do everything for her,” George promised, “get all the best doctors and psychiatrists. I’ll make sure she’s taken care of. And later, when she loves me and knows who I am, I’ll bring her back to see you. I’ll make sure she never forgets you, Julia.”

I
N A SMALL TOWN LIKE
R
AIN
V
ALLEY THE ONLY THING MORE PREVALENT
than gossip was opinions. Everyone had one and couldn’t wait to share it. Max figured that the meeting in the courthouse had barely finished when people started talking about it.

He called Julia every ten minutes; there was never an answer. For almost an hour he waited for her to call him, but his own phone remained silent.

Finally, he couldn’t stand it anymore. She might think she needed to be alone; she was wrong. He’d made that mistake for too long—thinking that heartache had to be borne alone. He wouldn’t let her make the same error.

He got in his car and drove to her house. With every turn, he pictured her. She’d be sitting on the sofa right now—or lying in bed—trying not to cry, but one memory of Alice laughing . . . or eating the flowers . . . or giving butterfly kisses . . . and the tears would fall.

He knew.

She might try to forget it, to outrun it, as he’d done. If so, years might pass before she’d realize that those memories needed to be held on to. They were all you had left.

He pulled up to her house and parked. From the outside everything looked normal. The rhododendrons that guarded the porch were huge and glossy green in this rainy season. A pale green moss furred the roof. Empty planters hung from the eaves. Behind and around the house, giant evergreens whispered among themselves. He crossed the yard and went to the front door, knocking softly.

Ellie answered, holding two cups of tea. “Hey, Max,” she said.

“How is she?”

“Not good.”

Ellie stepped back, letting him enter the house, and handed him the cups. “She’s up in my room. First door on the left. Alice is asleep so be quiet.”

He took the cups from her. “Thanks.”

“I’m going to the station. I’ll be back in an hour. Don’t leave her alone.”

“I won’t.”

She started to leave, then stopped and turned to him. “Thanks. You’ve helped her.”

“She’s helped me,” he said simply.

He watched her leave, heard her car start up. Then he put down the tea—there would be a time for that later; making tea was for a relative who wanted to help but didn’t know how—and went upstairs. At the closed bedroom door he paused, then drew in a deep breath and opened it.

The room was full of shadows. All of the lights were off.

Julia lay on her back in the big king-sized canopy bed, her eyes closed, her hands folded on her stomach.

He went to her, stood beside the bed. “Hey,” he said softly.

She opened her eyes and looked up at him. Her face was red and swollen, as were her eyes. Tears had scrubbed the color from her cheeks.

“You know about Alice,” she said quietly.

He climbed into the big bed and took her in his arms. Saying nothing, he held her and let her cry, let her tell him her memories one by one. It was something he should have done long ago; formed all his memories into solid, durable things that would last.

She paused in her story and looked at him, her eyes shimmering with tears. “I should stop rattling on about her,” she said.

He kissed her gently, giving her all of himself in that one kiss. “Keep talking,” he said when he drew back. “I’m not going anywhere.”

T
HE STREETS DOWNTOWN WERE EMPTY.
E
VERY STOREFRONT
E
LLIE
passed, she got a sad, tired wave from someone inside. Four people had hugged her in the diner while she waited for her mocha. None of them bothered to say anything. What was there to say? Everyone knew that by this time tomorrow their Alice would be gone.

It was late when she finally left the station and headed for the river. As she climbed the porch steps to the front door that had always been hers, she felt as if she were carrying a heavy weight on her back. This was as bad as she’d ever felt in her life, and for a woman who’d been divorced twice and buried both of her folks, well, that was saying something.

Inside, everything was exactly as it always had been. The overstuffed sofa and chairs created an intimate gathering place in front of the fireplace, the knickknacks were few and far between and mostly handmade. The only difference was the collection of ficus plants in the corner.

Alice’s hiding place.

Only a few weeks ago the girl had rushed to that place at the drop of a hat—or the start of a big emotion. But lately she’d hidden less and less in her leafy sanctuary.

The thought of it was almost more than Ellie could bear, and if it hurt her to imagine, what was Julia feeling now? Every tick of the clock must be a blow to her.

She went over to the stereo and popped the
Return of the King
CD into the player. It was a day for sad, desperate songs and emotional music.

She tossed her purse on the dining room table. It hit with a jangly thump. She’d just made herself tea when she saw her sister.

Julia was out on the porch, in the freezing cold, wrapped in their father’s old woolen hunting coat.

Ellie made a second cup of tea and took it out to the porch.

Julia took the drink with a quiet “Thanks” and “have a seat.”

Ellie grabbed one of the old quilts from the trunk on the porch and wrapped it around her. Sitting on the porch swing, she put her feet on the trunk. “Where’s Max?”

Julia shook her head. “He had an emergency at the hospital. He wanted to stay . . . but I sort of needed to be alone. Alice is asleep.”

Ellie started to rise. “Should I—”

“No. Please. Stay.” At that, Julia smiled sadly. “I sound like Alice. Brittany, I mean.”

“She’ll never really be Brittany to us.”

“No.” Julia sipped her tea.

“What will you do?”

“Without her?” Julia stared out at their backyard. In the darkness, they couldn’t see much past the river. Moonlight brightened the water. “I’ve been thinking a lot about that. Unfortunately, I don’t have an answer.” Her voice softened, trembled. “It’s like watching Mom die all over again.”

She started to say more, but fell suddenly silent. “Sorry. Sometimes . . .” She stood up, turned away. “I need to be with her now,” she said in a small, breaking voice, and then she was gone.

Ellie felt the start of tears. She tossed the blanket aside and got up. What good would it do to sit here by herself and cry?

She walked down into the damp grass toward the river. Across the black field she saw the twinkling yellow lights of Cal’s house.
Someday you should think about all the people who love you, El,
Peanut had said. Cal had always been on that list. Through both her marriages, all her disastrous affairs, and the deaths of her parents, Cal had always been the one constant man in her life.

Even though he was mad at her for something, he was the one man on the planet who saw her as she was and loved her anyway. She needed a friend like that now.

She was at his door in no time. She knocked.

And waited.

No one answered.

Frowning, she glanced behind her. Cal’s GTO was there, hidden beneath a tan canvas cover and a smattering of fallen leaves.

She opened the door, poked her head in, and said, “Hello?”

Again, there was no answer, but she saw a light on down the hall. She followed it to the closed door of Lisa’s study.

Suddenly she wondered if Lisa was back. The thought made her frown deepen. Nerves twisted her stomach, made her feel panicky, but that made no sense. She knocked on the door, “Hello?”

“Ellie?”

She pushed the door open and saw that Cal was there alone, sitting behind a drafting-like table with papers spread out all around him.

For no reason she could quite touch, Ellie felt a rush of relief. “Where are the girls?”

“Peanut took them to dinner and a movie so that I could work.”

“Work?”

“I thought you’d be out with George tonight.”

“I need new friends.” She sighed. “He was wrong for me. What do I need to do? Take out a billboard?”

“Wrong for you?” Cal leaned against his desk, studying her. “Usually you don’t figure that out until you’re married.”

“Very funny. Now, really, what are you doing?”

She crossed the room toward him, noticing the smudges on his cheek and hands. When she sidled up behind him, felt the touch of his arm against hers, she immediately felt less alone, less shaky.

There was a pile of papers in front of him. On the top page was a faded, working sketch of a boy and girl holding hands, running. Overhead, a giant pterodactyl-type bird blotted out the sun with its enormous wingspan.

He pushed the sketch aside; beneath it was a full-color drawing—almost a painting—of the same two kids huddled around a pale, glowing ball. The caption beneath them read:
How can we hide if they see our every move?

Ellie was stunned by the quality of his artwork, the vibrant colors and strong lines. The characters looked somehow both stylized and real. There was no mistaking the fear in their eyes.

“You’re a talented artist,” she said, rather dumbly, she thought, but it was so
surprising.
All those days while she’d been sitting at her desk, doing paperwork or reading her magazines or talking to Peanut, Cal had been creating Art. She’d blithely assumed it was the same doodling he’d been doing since Mr. Chee’s chemistry class. She felt suddenly as if she were losing her hold on herself. How could she have been with him every day and not known this? “Now I know why you said I was selfish, Cal. I’m sorry.”

He smiled slowly. It transformed his face, that smile, reminded her of a dozen times long past. “It’s a graphic novel about a pair of best friends. Kids. He’s a good kid from the wrong side of the tracks with a mean drunk for a dad. She hides him in her barn. Their friendship, it turns out, is the last true innocence, and it falls to them to destroy the wizard’s ball before the darkness falls. But if they kiss—or go farther—they’ll lose their power and be ruined. I just started submitting it to publishers.”

“It’s about us,” she said. At the realization, it felt as if a doorway somewhere opened, showed her a glimpse of a hallway she’d never seen. “Why didn’t you show me before?”

He tucked a strand of hair behind his ear and stood up to face her. “You stopped seeing me a long time ago, El. You saw the gangly, screwed-up kid I used to be, and the quiet always-there-for-you guy I became. But you haven’t really looked at me in a long time.”

“I see you, Cal.”

“Good. Because I’ve waited a long time to tell you something.”

“What?”

He took her by the shoulders, held her firmly.

And he kissed her.

Not a friendly peck or an I-hope-you-feel-better brushing of the lips. An honest to God, send the blood rushing to her head, kiss. Tongue and all.

Ellie resisted at first—it was all so unexpected—but Cal wasn’t letting her run the show this time. He backed her up against the wall and kept kissing her until her breathing was ragged and her heart was beating so fast she thought she’d faint. It was a kiss that held back nothing and promised everything.

When he finally drew back, making her whimper at the sudden loss, he wasn’t smiling. “You get it now?”

“Oh my
God.
”

“Everyone in town knows how I feel about you.” He kissed her again, then drew back. “I was beginning to think you were stupid.”