Magic Hour

“Max?” Ellie said finally.

They were all looking at him. Waiting. He looked at Julia. “I’m thankful to be here.”

NINETEEN

WINTER CAME TO THE RAIN FOREST LIKE A HORDE OF greedy relatives, taking up every inch of space and blocking out the light. The rains became earnest in this darkening season of the year, changing from a comforting mist to a constant drizzle.

In the midst of all this dark weather, Alice blossomed; there was no other word for it. Like a fragile orchid, she bloomed within the walls of this house where each day felt more like a home. The girl’s quest for language had been both tireless and desperate. Now she strung two words together regularly—and sometimes three. She knew how to get her ideas and wants across to the two women who had become her world.

As remarkable as Alice’s changes were, Julia’s were perhaps even more surprising. She smiled easier and more often, she made outrageously bad jokes at dinner, and danced with them at the drop of a hat. She’d stopped running every single morning and put on a few much-needed pounds. Most important, she had reclaimed her self-confidence. She was so proud of Alice’s accomplishments. The two of them still spent every waking hour together—doing art projects, working with letters and numbers, taking long walks in the woods. They seemed almost to be communicating telepathically, that’s how close they were. Alice still shadowed Julia everywhere; often, she kept a hand in Julia’s pocket or on her belt. But more and more often, Alice would venture a little ways on her own. Sometimes, she went to “Lellie,” too, showing off some trinket she had made or found. Almost every night, Ellie read her a bedtime story while Julia wrote in her notebook. Lately, Alice had begun to curl up against Ellie for story time. On very good nights, she petted Ellie’s leg and said, “More, Lellie. More.”

All of it, Ellie knew, should have made her happy. It was what Mom and Dad had always dreamed of for their daughters’ future, and that this closeness would finally return in the house on River Road—well, it couldn’t get better than that.

It made Ellie happy.

And it didn’t.

The unhappiness was pale and seldom seen, like a spider’s web in the deep woods. You saw it only when you were looking for it or stumbled off the path. The new and tender closeness of their trio sometimes underscored the solitary edge of her life. A woman who’d fallen in love as often as she had didn’t expect to be approaching forty alone. Even though she was happy for Julia, sometimes Ellie watched her sister’s growing bond with Alice, and it made her heart ache. Whether Julia knew it or not—or admitted it or not—she was becoming Alice’s mother. They would leave this house someday, find their own home, and Ellie would be alone, like before. Only it would be different now because she’d been part of a family again. She didn’t want to go back to her previous life, where work and friends and dreams of falling in love made up the bulk of her life. She didn’t know if it would be enough anymore. Now that she’d lived in a house where a child played games and followed you around and kissed you good-night, would she be okay again on her own?

“You don’t look so good,” Cal said from across the room.

“Yeah? Well, you’re ugly.”

Cal laughed. Taking off his headset, he put down his pencil and walked out of their office. A few moments later he returned with two cups of coffee. “Maybe you need some caffeine.” He handed her the cup.

She looked up at him, wondering why she couldn’t find men like him attractive—men who kept their promises and raised their children and stayed in love. Oh, no. She had to fall head over heels for guys with “issues.” Guys who grew their hair too long and had trouble keeping a job and confused “I do” with “I did” pretty damned fast.

“What I need is a new life.”

He pulled a chair from his desk and set it by hers. “We’re getting to that age.”

“You used to tell me I was crazy when I said things like that.”

He leaned back in the chair and put his feet on her desk. She couldn’t help noticing that the white soles of his tennis shoes were covered with purple ink. Someone had written his youngest daughter’s name on the rubber, surrounded by pink hearts and stars.

It made her heart lurch, that little sight. “It looks like someone wanted to decorate Daddy’s shoes.”

“Sarah thought my shoes were dorky. I never should have given her a set of markers.”

“You’re lucky to have those girls, Cal.” She sighed. “I always thought I’d be the one with three daughters. Both times I got married, I went right off the pill and started praying.” She tried to smile. “I guess I have divorce lawyers instead of babies.”

“You’re thirty-nine, Ellie. Not fifty-nine. The game isn’t over.”

“It just feels that way, huh?”

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, for God’s sake, Ellie. Don’t you ever get tired of telling the same story?”

She sat upright. He sounded angry with her. It didn’t make sense. She’d always been able to count on Cal. “What do you mean?”

“We’re pushing forty, but you still act like you’re the homecoming queen, waiting to be swept off her feet by the football captain. It’s not like that. Love rips the shit out of you and puts you back together like a broken toy, with all kinds of cracks and jagged edges. It’s not about the falling in love. It’s about the landing, the staying where you said you’d be and working to keep the love strong. You never did get that.”

“That’s easy for you to say, Cal. You’ve got a wife and kids who love you. Lisa—”

“Left me.”

“What?”

“In August,” he said quietly. “We tried the old being separated in the same house—for the girls. But they were too smart for that. Amanda, especially. She’s like Julia was at that age. She sees everything and isn’t afraid to ask hard questions. Lisa moved out of our bedroom before Valentine’s Day. Just before school started, she left for good.”