Magic Hour

Girl gives her the special rose. “Peas.”

Sun Hair’s eyes start leaking again, but this time her mouth is curled up in a way that makes Girl feel warm inside. She puts her arms around Girl and pulls Girl toward her.

It is a feeling Girl has never known before, this holding of the wholeness of her. She closes her eyes and lets her face burrow into the softness of Sun Hair’s neck, which smells of the flowers that grow when the sun comes sneaking up through nighttime.

“Stay,” she whispers again, smiling now.

SEVENTEEN

ELLIE SAT IN HER DAD’S OLD CHAIR ON THE PORCH, WRAPPED UP in a heavy woolen blanket. Beside her, a cup of tea sent thin shoots of steam into the air.

Although it had been almost three hours since the Alice-in-the-woods show, she could still hear the sad, wavery notes of the girl’s howling, like a mournful music of the night.

So much had happened tonight; the hell of it was, had anything changed? Alice could speak. That much they knew now, and it might be the open door they needed through which they could find her identity.

But for some reason, Ellie didn’t believe it. She didn’t think Alice belonged anywhere or to anyone. Somehow, she’d been set adrift in her life like one of those elder Eskimo women who crawl out onto the ice floes, where they remain, cold and alone and infinitely unwanted, until they simply gave up their lives.

Ellie wrapped her hands around the cup of tea. Steam pelted her face, brought with it the scent of oranges.

Behind her the porch door squeaked open.

Julia took a seat in Mom’s rocker.

“Is she asleep?” Ellie asked.

“Like a baby.”

Ellie tried to corral her thoughts; they were like mustangs on the open range, running wild at her approach. “Did she say anything else?” That was the starting place. Hopefully, the two words had been only the beginning.

“No. And it might be a while. Tonight was a big event, to be sure, but did you hear the way she said please? Peas. Like a two-year-old. And she didn’t put the two words together as a sentence. To her, I believe the words were separate entities.”

Julia was smiling brightly. Ellie couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen that.

“What does all that mean?”

It took Julia a moment to answer. “It’s all very complicated and scientific, and I need a lot more information to really form a solid opinion, but in a nutshell, Alice is either electively mute—which means that she is choosing not to speak because of the traumas she’s experienced—or she is developmentally delayed in her acquisition of speech. I believe it is the latter. I say this for a couple of reasons. First, she seems to understand specific, simple words, but not sentences comprised of those words. Secondly, tonight she used the two words independently, which reveals the level of syntax learning of an average two-year-old. Think of how children learn language. First it’s simple word identification. Mama. Dada. Ball. Dog. Gradually, they’ll string two words together to communicate a more complex idea, then three. In time, they learn to form negative sentences—‘No play. No nap’—and begin to use pronouns. As they become more proficient, they will form their sentences into questions. Most scientists believe that a child can learn these complex, unvoiced rules and acquire language at any age up to puberty. After that, for some reason, it becomes almost impossible. It’s why kids learn foreign languages so much easier than adults do.”

Ellie held up her hand. “Slow down, Einstein. Are you saying that Alice can speak but hasn’t been taught much, so she’s got the verbal skills of a toddler?”

“That’s my guess. I think she was raised in a verbal, perhaps even a caring environment, for the first eighteen months to two years of her life. It was then that she began to learn a few words and bonded physically with someone. After that . . . something very bad happened and she stopped developing her language skills.”

Something very bad.

The words left a heaviness behind, a residue. “A toddler doesn’t know her name. Not her last name, anyway.”

“I know.”

Ellie leaned back in her dad’s chair and sighed heavily. “It seems like no one is looking for this kid, Jules. The NCIC has come up completely blank on any known missing or kidnapped children who match her description. The DNA had done nothing for us, and the press isn’t interested anymore. And now you’re telling me that even if you get her to start talking up a blue steak, she may have no idea what her name is. Or who her parents are, or what city she lives in.”

“Jeez, El. I was feeling pretty good about tonight. We got her outside and talking.”

“I’m sorry. You’ve done a hell of a job with her, Jules. Really. But I have responsibilities, too. DSHS thinks we should start permanent foster care proceedings.”

“Don’t do it, El. Please. I have a chance with her. It’s not only about finding her family anymore. It’s about saving her, bringing her back to the world. You reminded me of all that, of how much good I can do for Alice.”

“You make it sound like you’ll stay as long as you need to.”

“Why wouldn’t I? There’s nothing left for me in L.A. When you don’t have a husband, or kids, or a job, it’s easy to walk away from your life. Just lock up your condo and go.” She finally lifted her gaze. “The truth is, I need Alice right now. I’ll do whatever I have to do to help her. Can that be enough for now? Can we just let the temporary custody agreement stand?”