Magic hour: a novel (53 page)

“Mr. Azelle,” Julia said in a shaky voice. “I see you’ve brought Dr. Correll.” She nodded at the doctor and got to her feet. “Your reputation precedes you, Doctor.”

“As does yours,” Dr. Correll said. There was no hint of sarcasm in his voice. “I watched the tapes. Your work with her has been phenomenal. You should publish it in the journal.”

Julia looked down at Alice, who looked scared now.

“Jewlee?” Alice said, her voice spiking up in fear.

“It’s time for you to go now,” Julia said in a voice so quiet they all moved a little closer to hear.

Alice shook her head. “No go. Alice stay.”

“I wish you could, honey, but your daddy wants to love you, too.” She touched Alice’s tiny face. “You remember your mommy? She would have wanted this for you.”

“Jewlee Mommy.” There was no mistaking the fear in Alice’s voice now. She tried to hug Julia more tightly.

Julia worked to uncoil the girl’s spindly arms. “I wanted to be . . . but I’m not. No Jewlee Mommy. You have to go with your father.”

Alice went crazy. Kicking and screaming and growling and howling. She scratched Julia’s face and her own.

“Oh, honey, don’t,” Julia said, trying to calm the child, but she was crying too hard to be heard.

Dr. Correll swooped in and gave Alice a shot.

The child howled at that. A huge, desperate wail that came from all the dark places she’d seen in her life.

Ellie felt tears in her own eyes, stinging, blurring everything.

Julia held onto Alice, who slowly quieted as the sedative took effect.

“I’m sorry,” Julia said to her.

Alice’s eyes blinked heavily. She coiled her arms around Julia and stared at her. “Love. Jewlee.”

“And I love Alice.”

At that, Alice started to cry. It came with no sound, no shuddering, no childlike hysterics, just a soul deep release that turned into moisture and dripped down her puffy pink cheeks. She touched her tears, frowning. Then she looked up at Julia and whimpered two words before she fell asleep. “Real hurts.”

Julia whispered something none of them could hear. She looked ruined by those quietly spoken words and Alice’s tears.

They all stood there a moment, staring at each other. Then Dr. Correll said, “We should hurry.”

Julia nodded stiffly and carried Alice out to the Ferrari. She looked down into the passenger seat, then turned to George. “Where’s her booster seat?”

“She’s not a baby,” he said.

“I’ll get it,” Ellie said, going to the truck. Somehow that did it to her, after all she’d just seen; unhooking the booster seat—Alice’s seat—and yanking it out of the truck made her cry. She tried to hide her face from George as she fit the seat into the Ferrari.

Very slowly, Julia bent down and put the sleeping child into the car. She whispered something into Alice’s tiny ear; none of them heard what it was. Then she kissed her cheek and backed away, shutting the car door gently.

Julia stood face-to-face with George. She handed him a thick manila envelope. “This is everything you need to know. Her naptimes, bedtimes, allergies. She loves Jell-O now—but only if it has pineapple in it—and vanilla pudding. She tries to play with pasta, so unless you want a real mess, I’d keep it away from her. And pictures of bunnies with big ears will make her giggle; so will tickling the bottoms of her feet. Her favorite book—”

“Stop.” George’s voice was harsh, throaty. He took the envelope in shaking hands. “Thank you. For everything. Thank you.”

“If you have problems, you’ll call. I can be there in no time—”

“I promise.”

“I want to throw myself in front of your car.”

“I know.”

“If you—” Her voice cracked. She wiped her eyes, said, “Take care of my—
our
—girl.”

“I will.”

Overhead, a cold breeze rustled through the leaves. In the distance, a crow cawed, then another. Ellie half expected to hear a wolf howl.

“Well,” George said. “We need to go.”

Julia stepped back.

Ellie went to her sister, put an arm around her. Julia felt frail and too thin suddenly, like someone who has been hospitalized for a long time and had only recently gotten out of bed. Max came up, too; they bookended her. Without their steadying presence, Ellie thought her sister might collapse.

George got into his car and drove away. Dr. Correll followed.

For a few moments their tires crunched on the gravel driveway, their engines purred. Then there was no sound left, no trace of them.

Just the wind.

“She cried,” Julia whispered, her whole body trembling. “All the love I gave her . . . and in the end all I did was teach her to cry.”

Max pulled Julia into his arms and held her tightly. There was nothing more they could say.

Alice was gone.

S
HE IS IN A CAR.

But it is not the kind of car she knows. This one is low—almost on the ground—and it darts around like a snake. The music is so loud it hurts her ears.

She opens her eyes slowly. She feels funny, kind of wobbly and sick and tired. Her stomach might throw everything out her mouth if she’s not careful. Wetting her dry lips, she looks around for Jewlee or Lellie.

They are not here.

She feels the panic start deep inside her and blossom out. The only thing that stops her from screaming is how tired she is. She can’t seem to make a big noise. (He can probably hear her heartbeat. It is so loud he will probably yell at her. She covers her heart with her hand to quiet the sound.)

“Jewlee?” she says to the man.

“She’s back in Rain Valley. We’re long gone. But you’re with me now, Brittany, and everything will be good.”

She doesn’t understand all his words. But she knows
gone.
Her eyes start watering. It hurts, this crying. She wipes the tears away, surprised a little that they are clear. They should be red as her blood; that’s how it feels. As if she has been poked with the sharp knife again and is bleeding. She remembers bleeding. “Jewlee Mommy gone. Alice bad girl.”

The man looks at her. He is frowning. She knows he will hit her now, but she doesn’t care. Jewlee can’t make it all better anymore.

Just thinking it makes her eyes water more. She starts howling, softly, though she knows there is no one to hear. She is too far from her place. Her howling grows louder, more desperate.

“Brittany?”

She says nothing. The only way to protect herself is in the quiet. She has no one to care for her anymore so she needs to be small and still.

She closes her eyes, lets the sleep come for her again. It is better to dream of Jewlee, to pretend. In her dreams she is a good girl and has a Jewlee Mommy to love her.

S
OMETIME LATER—
J
ULIA HAD NO IDEA WHEN; SHE’D LOST HER GRIP ON
time—she sent Max downstairs and Ellie back to work. They’d both been smothering her all day, trying to offer a comfort that didn’t exist. Frankly, it took all her strength, every bit she had, to stay here and not scream until she was hoarse. She couldn’t let herself look at the people she loved—and who loved her. All of it just made her think of Alice.

She stared out the bedroom window at the empty yard.

Birds.

Come spring, those birds would come looking for Alice. . . .

Behind her the dogs chuffed softly to one another; they’d spent almost an hour looking for their girl. Now they were quiet, lying beside Alice’s bed, waiting for her return. Every now and then howls would fill the air.

Julia glanced down at her watch and thought about how long they’d been gone. A few hours, and already it felt like a lifetime.

It was five-thirty. They would be nearing the city now. The majestic green of Alice’s beloved forest would have given way to the gray of concrete. She would feel as alien there as any space traveler. Without her, the little girl would regress, retreat once more into her frightened and silent world. Her fear would be too big to handle.

“Please, God,” she whispered aloud, praying again for the first time in years, “take care of my girl. Don’t let her hurt herself.”

She turned away from the window . . . and saw the potted plants. Before Alice, those plants had been separate, placed as they’d been in various places throughout the house. Now they were the forest, the hiding place.

She knew she should stay where she was, keep her distance, but she couldn’t do it. She walked over to the plants, stroked their glossy green leaves. “You’ll miss her, too,” she said throatily, not caring that she was talking to plants. It didn’t matter now if she went a little crazy. She wasn’t Dr. Cates now. She was just an ordinary woman missing an extraordinary girl.

It was almost six now. They were probably on the floating bridge, crossing Lake Washington, nearing Mercer Island; Alice would see the snowcapped mountains in the distance and see where she’d come from. The air would smell different, too; of smog and cars and the tamed blue sound.

She finally left the room. Downstairs, the house was quiet except for the clang and rattle of Max’s cooking.

She went to the table that was set for two, pretending not to see the blank space where the third place mat belonged. “What’re you making?” she asked Max, who was in the kitchen, chopping vegetables.

At the sound of her voice, he looked up.

Their gazes met. “Stir fry.” He set down the knife and moved toward her.

“The phone keeps ringing.”

“It’s Ellie,” he said. “She wants to make sure you’re okay.”

He put an arm around her and led her to the window. Together they stared out at the dark backyard. The first star of evening looked down on them.

She leaned against him, loving the heat of his body against hers; it reminded her how cold she was. He didn’t ask how she was or tell her it would be okay. He simply put his hand around the back of her neck, anchoring her. Without that touch, she might have drifted away, floated on this sea of emptiness. But with the one simple gesture he’d reminded her that she hadn’t lost everything, that she wasn’t alone.

“I wonder how she’s doing.”

“Don’t,” he said softly. “All you can do is wait.”

“For what?”

“Someday when you think about her howling or eating the flowers or trying to play with spiders, you’ll laugh instead of cry.”

Julia wanted to be helped by his words. As a psychiatrist, she knew he was right; the mother in her couldn’t believe it.

Behind them the doorbell rang.

To be honest, she was thankful for the distraction. “Did you lock Ellie out?” she asked, wiping her eyes and trying to smile. “I shouldn’t have sent her to work anyway. I thought being with Cal would help.”

“Does it help?” Max asked. “Being with someone who loves you?”

“As much as anything can.”

He nodded.

Julia let go of him and went to the door, opening it.

Alice stood there, looking impossibly small and frightened. She was twisting her hands together, the way she did when she was confused, and she had her shoes on the wrong feet. The sound she made was a strangled, confused howling. Seeping, bloody scratches lined her cheeks.

George stood behind Alice. His handsome face was pale and seamed with worry lines she hadn’t seen before. “She thinks you let her go because she was bad.”

It hit Julia like a blow to the heart. She dropped to her knees, looked Alice in the eyes. “Oh, honey. You’re a
good
girl. The best.”

Alice started to cry in that desperate, quiet way of hers. Her whole body shook, but she didn’t make a sound.

“Use your words, Alice.”

The girl shook her head, howled in a keening, desperate wail.

Julia touched her. “Use your words, baby.
Please.
”

The loss wrenched through Julia again, tore her heart. She couldn’t go through this again. Neither one of them could. She knew that Alice wanted to throw herself at her, wanted a hug but was afraid to move. All the little girl could think was that she was bad, that she would be abandoned again, just like before. And once more she was afraid to talk.