“Of course I am.” Now kindly remove your hand. No. Keep it there. Please keep it there.
“You’re hardly breathing,” she says. “And, look—your knuckles are white.”
I look down at my hands, balled into tight fists, and I force them to relax. I breathe as Mira instructed me. My house. I am at my house. For the first time in nine years.
32
WE FOLLOW THE ROAD around to the house. Past fountains that no longer run. Past an apple orchard. Past flower gardens long past their bloom. Past arbors, pathways, and gazebos that were once my playground. The wind whips my face, my skirt, throwing dust in my eyes, like it is telling me to go away.
Close your eyes.
Don’t look, Destiny.
Don’t look.
But I did.
I do.
I dab at my eyes, trying to rub away the grit that makes them tear. But I don’t stop looking. Because I never have. Looking forward. Looking back. Wondering how many steps, minutes, days, and breaths add up to just the right number. There has to be a way to make things right. There has to be. I won’t run away. Today they will listen to me, and I will say all the things I should have said long ago.
Seth stops off to the side of the house just before we reach the front portico and the intricately inlaid drive of slate and brick. “Still want to do this?”
Mira leans forward, her face contorted like she just received bad news. “Des, dear, I’m afraid no one is home. It looks deserted.”
“Let’s go in.”
Seth puts the car in park and turns off the engine. “What about Lucky?”
I nod toward the southern lawn. “Let him graze. The hedges will keep him in.”
“Come on, boy.” Seth picks up Lucky and carries him to the lawn that is overgrown just enough to be a little lamb’s paradise.
Aidan slams the car door behind us, and the sound echoes off the deserted landscape.
“Quiet out here, isn’t it?” Mira is obviously spooked by the loneliness.
We walk up the rest of the driveway, up the three curved steps, and I try the door. It’s unlocked. I push it open.
Seth catches up and, along with us, peers inside. For a moment, time is suspended, held back by the threshold of the massive door. I hear the heart of the house. Thump, thump, thump. It beats in my chest.
“Wow,” Mira says, breaking the spell.
“Should we knock?” Aidan asks.
I look at him sharply. “It is my house, Aidan.”
I step inside and they follow. I look up at the ceiling, the double curving staircase, and at the vase of fresh white gladiolas on the pedestal to the left. I smile. The flowers had to be the Realtor’s touch—a stab of warmth in a cold empty house. Or could it be Mother’s idea? In honor of my birthday? Is it possible? Today could be different. It could add up to everything right. I snap off one flower and tuck it behind my ear.
The living room is unchanged, except for one piece of missing furniture, the white grand piano along with its bench. Mr. Gardian saved that for me.
“Anybody home?” Mira calls sheepishly. “Mrs. Faraday?”
“Shhh,” I tell her. “Let’s go upstairs. I’ll show you my room.”
We move toward the stairs, Mira’s peep-toed platforms click, click, clicking on the marble tiles.
“Why am I not surprised to see you here, Destiny?”