Pieces of Hope (41 page)

Beige
stone paved the grand outdoor space. We were standing just a few feet from an
exotic-shaped pool. Brody’s little brothers were there, screaming and shoving
each other’s heads under the water. Aunt Dee was there too, watching hawk-like
over her granddaughters. Aunt Dee was, in Dad’s words, a Nervous Nelly, and
even now I could see how her hands trembled. I attempted to catch her eye, but
she looked nail-bitingly certain that—despite their life vests—the twins might
drown in three feet of water. Only little Tyler
saw me. He waved exuberantly, just before Derek shoved him under again.
 

Two fire
pits that doubled as water fountains burned at opposite ends of the patio. I’d
never seen fire and water together like that. But then I thought of Ethan and
me—fire heated water; water tempered fire. It was a good mix. Beyond them, a
dimly lit path led the way to what looked like the precipice of a cliff. I
couldn’t see any sign of the beach from here. But I could see the ocean
stretching on forever, waves shimmering darkly in the moonlight. And I could
hear the tide pulsing repetitively under the staggered reggae beats as if it
were absently keeping time with the music.

“That
first step’s a
doozy
,” Brody announced, chomping a
tiny drumstick. “If Ethan was game, we ought to rap down to the water, then
climb back up—you know, the way we did at Heaven’s Peak.” He stopped to lick
his fingers. “
Whaddaya
think, Ethan?”

“Not
such a great idea, Brody. That cliff’s mostly dirt, very little rock. Ever
heard of California
mudslides?”

“Dude,”
Brody said between bites. “It might still be killer.”

Yeah,
killer. I couldn’t have said it better myself. Brody was a walking land mine;
he ought to be declared a national disaster. A sense of dread sliced through me
as I recalled how easily any of them could be hurt. Soul-to-soul visits weren’t
everything they were cracked up to be. Especially for the living.

I
purposely ignored the chill that crept up my spine. Probably just my neurotic
sense of protection that kicked in whenever Ethan was near. Several guests
spotted me then, and Ethan introduced me to his favorite Aunt Elisa, Madeline’s
sister. The physical resemblance was unmistakable, but Elisa was warm and easy
to talk to, more like Ethan’s father. I also met the grandfather who had given
Ethan a yacht for his tenth birthday. Burr was a stately, silver-haired,
bushy-mustached man seeming to dislike anything human. After he had run off to
get a refill, Ethan explained that the old man was better with numbers than
with people. I decided to introduce him to Gigi. She’d loosen him up. He’d
never know what hit him.
  

Near one
of the fiery water fountains, several guests sat at built-in stone benches with
plump cushions. That’s where I spotted Dad and Gigi and Grandma and Grandpa
Valenti.

“Dad!” I
shouted, tramping over to him, stumbling only once on my heels.

He
scrambled up from his seat, scarcely having time to stand before I reached him.

“Whoa!”
Dad chuckled, falling back a little as I squeezed him in a life-threatening
embrace. “Even on those monstrosities, you’re faster than I remember.” He
glanced down at my shoes. Dad looked handsome and healthy, the way he had always
looked when Mom was around. The dark circles under his eyes were absent, and he
had packed on a few pounds as well. I held onto him for the longest time.

“I
missed you, too, honey. I missed you, too . . .” he repeated again and again.

“Come
here my little sweet potato!” Grandpa Valenti captured me in a sandwich of
grandparents. They had moved to Denver
six years ago to be closer to Aunt Dee’s kids, and I only saw them on holidays
and odd summers. It was amazing how much I’d missed them. I thought my heart
was going to explode.

Uncle
Donald was there as well, with his new girlfriend, a redhead. He liked to mix
things up and get a new one every few months or so. I’d never met this one.
“Hey kiddo . . . Welcome home. Am I still your favorite uncle?”
 

“Aside
from the fact that you’re my only uncle?” I teased back. But even if I’d had
several, Uncle Donald would still take the top slot. He was a great
secret-keeper. I’d told him enough stuff to get me grounded for several lifetimes.
 

Clarence
and Linda Alexander were there, too. Mr. A briefly patted my shoulder. It was
his usual manner of greeting. Nothing too warm or too fuzzy. Conservative.

“Hope,”
Mr. A said, “we thought Brody was going to die of a broken heart without you. He
hasn’t been climbing since you left.” Brody was right, I thought. His father’s
voice really could put crickets to sleep.

“Good
thing he had Claire to keep him company. That’s helped immensely,” Mrs. A said,
hugging me. “After all, she’s been his crush since what . . . third grade,
maybe?”

“Second,”
I reminded her, recalling Brody’s young declaration of love.

“Oh yes,
that’s right,” she agreed with a delighted smile. “But you were and always will
be irreplaceable.” She accepted a drink from a drifting waiter and lifted a
second one for Mr. A. It took a nudge from Linda to get him to notice it.
 
  

Gigi was
eyeing my attire with a surprise on her face. “When’d you get the personal
stylist?” Only Claire and Gigi had the style gene in our family. Dad did okay;
he wore dress shirts and khakis most days. But, like me, he didn’t fare well
without assistance.

“Oh,
this . . .” Old thing. Back of my closet. Had it for ages.

Gigi
spied Ethan over my left shoulder. “If it isn’t tall, handsome, and handsomer.”

“Gigi,
lovely as ever,” Ethan said smoothly, avoiding her flirtatious gaze by running
a hand through his hair. He seemed to do that when he was uncomfortable. Linda
must have noticed because she suddenly motioned for Gigi to take a seat beside
her. Though it was only a few feet away, when Gigi sat down at last, I heard
Ethan loudly exhale.
  

“Welcome
back.” It was Sophie Langley looking bored but beautiful. She showed off her
curves in a skin-tight dress, but I didn’t feel envious. For once, I felt like
her equal. We gave each other an almost-hug, and then we both looked away, each
of us as uncomfortable as the other.

“Hope, let’s
dance!” Claire shouted, stepping out of a crowd on the dance floor. She came
closer, her lithe body swaying, motioning toward an open space in front of the
dee
-jay.

“Later.
Okay? Give me some time to catch up first.”

She
nodded and danced her way back to Brody. A moment later, as they gyrated to a
great song, I laughed, slightly embarrassed for the onlookers. Brody had the
moves, but they weren’t anywhere close to PG rated. From the corner of my eye,
I watched my grandparents cringe in horror. Grammy half-covered her eyes.

“I can
dance like that,” Gigi announced, creating looks of shock all around. “Want me
to show you Ethan?” she called loudly, tucking a smooth red strand of hair
behind an ear.

“I’m not
much of a dancer, Gigi,” Ethan replied awkwardly. I held back a smile—I could
torture him for decades. My grandmother had just asked my too-beautiful
boyfriend to dirty-dance with her at my coming-home party.

We
talked for a while after that, mostly stories from my childhood that I’d forgotten.
I was apparently quite the comedian. I thought I might have missed my calling. Somewhere
in the conversation,
Rin
, Charlotte, Gus,
Creesie
,
and to my surprise, Cat and Mac wandered over. I made brief introductions. No
one asked how or when any of us had met.

That was
the funny thing about this place; everyone had short memories—including me. While
I occupied myself with being the center of everyone’s attention, every thought
of what I really ought to be doing seemed lifetimes away.

Gus shifted
topics and began telling stories of his wife, Ellen. As Gus told it, I was in
good company. Ellen was also a comedian. As everyone focused on Gus, I found the
moment I’d been waiting for. I pulled Ethan aside into a private conversation. “Are
you going to tell me how you managed to pull this off?”

A pretty
redhead in a strapless summer dress waved a flirty wave at him.

“You
could say I had a little help.” Ethan raised his chin at her.

“Hey,
Hope,” Charlotte
called sweetly. “Enjoying your surprise party?”

She
stood on the far side of the fiery fountain, holding a fruity drink in her hand.
The rest of my new friends were standing around her. Simultaneously, they
looked up and smiled at me. Why hadn’t I seen it before? They were all in on
this! Charlotte
hadn’t left the Station to visit her mother; she had left to help Ethan. All of
them had all planned this party to knock some sense into me! I bit my lip as my
eyes got teary.

Half-mumbling,
half-thinking the words I couldn’t say, I sent them my love and my undying
gratitude. Charlotte
blew me a kiss.
You’re welcome,
she
told me.
   

Several
songs later, the music switched to some kind of jazzy number, and Claire and
Brody finally jointed us.
Patric
and Madeline also
made their way back, Madeline propped heavily on her husband’s arm. She looked
to have had a few too many cocktails. Her perfect hair was slightly out of
place and it was hard to follow the conversation; she kept changing topics.
 

“Ethan
used to have such imaginative dreams when he was little,” Madeline went on,
slurring her words. “He used to talk non-stop about his yellow-haired
girlfriend who loved to dance.” She laughed loudly. “Sometimes I’d see him upset,
and when I’d ask him what was wrong, he would tell me that he missed her.”

There
was a mutual
awww
from the women. Clearly, they were thinking this was just a little kid’s
romantic imagination at work. I reached quietly for his hand, hoping to catch
his attention, but Ethan refused to look up from his feet. My heart ached for
him. Had he, as a child, remembered our previous lifetime? How lonely that must
have made him feel.

Madeline
sipped on her drink. Turning her glazed eyes to her son, she slurred, “Do you
remember, Ethan? You stopped talking about her just before you turned six.”

Judging
by his agitated expression, I would have guessed he very much recalled it and
would have preferred it to remain private.
Patric
Reid was eyeing his son with concern. Sensing his discomfort, he broke in,
“More drinks, anyone? Anyone ready for refills?”

Madeline
missed the direction he was going and rattled on, “Ethan was always such a
serious, solitary child—it’s no wonder he dreamed up an imaginary girlfriend!”
Her glass tipped, spilling amber liquid down the side. “But all I ever wanted
is for him to be happy. We may not understand each other, but that’s all a
mother could ask for.”

She looked
at him and he looked back. He had sympathy in his eyes for his mother. I could
see why he’d never told them about finding his adoption papers. They adored him
just as I did. But I wasn’t so sure they saw him clearly. Ethan . . . serious?
Though it was twice I had heard it—once from a questionable source (Sophie) and
now from his mother—it wasn’t the way he behaved with me. At our first meeting
at the hospital, maybe . . . But hadn’t there been a reason for it? Now I
wasn’t so sure which one was the real Ethan.

Patric
placed a gentle kiss on the side of Madeline’s neck.
It was the final distraction. She fell into his arms, the awkward moment was
forgotten, and several conversations began at once. Silently, I watched them and
a flood of emotions welled up from nowhere. It seemed my heart had never been
so full.
   

Ethan edged
into my reverie. “What are you thinking?”

“Oh, you
know . . . the usual.”

“You
never have usual thoughts.”

At this,
I smiled.

“I think
I know,” he whispered, his voice soft and low.
 
 

“Highly
unlikely.”
 

He
almost smiled back. “That was definitely a dare,” he observed. “But I’m always up
for a challenge, even one as monumental as this one.” He paused thoughtfully,
watching me before he continued. “Given your vast emotional range, I’d say you’re
thinking this is all a little overwhelming . . .”

My
shoulders dropped by accident. He corrected himself.

“No . .
. let’s make that a
lot
overwhelming.
In fact, I’d say you think your heart is about to burst from all the love your
have for these people. And,”—he looked intently into my eyes, taking a rather
lengthy pause—“extremely disappointed that no one’s asked you about the
necklace you’ve been flashing them all evening.”

“What—how
did you—?” He suddenly made me wonder again about his capacity for
mind-reading. Then again, he already knew that my emotions topped the Richter
scale here, and I had been fidgeting with my necklace ever since my arrival.

“And in
case you’re wondering why I didn’t sign your
Welcome Home
banner, it’s because I planned to deliver the message
in person. It’s a . . . physical message.”
  

“Oh?” I
was thrilled by the idea of this.

Seeing
my expression, he laughed. “Don’t get too excited. It’s a dance.”

I tried
not to look disappointed.

“A
slow
dance,” he emphasized.

“Oh.”
That, at least, had possibilities.” Then I remembered what he’d said to Gigi.
“I thought you didn’t like to dance.”

He
turned over my hand and kissed it. “I’m saving all my dances for you.”

“
Ohhh
. . .” Fleeting memories of an old high school gym, an
earlier Ethan, me in a dress, him in a uniform, floated through my mind.