“Not good.”
Ellie stepped back, letting him enter the house, and handed him the cups. “She’s up in my room. First door on the left. Alice is asleep so be quiet.”
He took the cups from her. “Thanks.”
“I’m going to the station. I’ll be back in an hour. Don’t leave her alone.”
“I won’t.”
She started to leave, then stopped and turned to him. “Thanks. You’ve helped her.”
“She’s helped me,” he said simply.
He watched her leave, heard her car start up. Then he put down the tea—there would be a time for that later; making tea was for a relative who wanted to help but didn’t know how—and went upstairs. At the closed bedroom door he paused, then drew in a deep breath and opened it.
The room was full of shadows. All of the lights were off.
Julia lay on her back in the big king-sized canopy bed, her eyes closed, her hands folded on her stomach.
He went to her, stood beside the bed. “Hey,” he said softly.
She opened her eyes and looked up at him. Her face was red and swollen, as were her eyes. Tears had scrubbed the color from her cheeks.
“You know about Alice,” she said quietly.
He climbed into the big bed and took her in his arms. Saying nothing, he held her and let her cry, let her tell him her memories one by one. It was something he should have done long ago; formed all his memories into solid, durable things that would last.
She paused in her story and looked at him, her eyes shimmering with tears. “I should stop rattling on about her,” she said.
He kissed her gently, giving her all of himself in that one kiss. “Keep talking,” he said when he drew back. “I’m not going anywhere.”
THE STREETS DOWNTOWN WERE EMPTY. EVERY STOREFRONT ELLIE passed, she got a sad, tired wave from someone inside. Four people had hugged her in the diner while she waited for her mocha. None of them bothered to say anything. What was there to say? Everyone knew that by this time tomorrow their Alice would be gone.
It was late when she finally left the station and headed for the river. As she climbed the porch steps to the front door that had always been hers, she felt as if she were carrying a heavy weight on her back. This was as bad as she’d ever felt in her life, and for a woman who’d been divorced twice and buried both of her folks, well, that was saying something.
Inside, everything was exactly as it always had been. The overstuffed sofa and chairs created an intimate gathering place in front of the fireplace, the knickknacks were few and far between and mostly handmade. The only difference was the collection of ficus plants in the corner.
Alice’s hiding place.
Only a few weeks ago the girl had rushed to that place at the drop of a hat—or the start of a big emotion. But lately she’d hidden less and less in her leafy sanctuary.
The thought of it was almost more than Ellie could bear, and if it hurt her to imagine, what was Julia feeling now? Every tick of the clock must be a blow to her.
She went over to the stereo and popped the Return of the King CD into the player. It was a day for sad, desperate songs and emotional music.
She tossed her purse on the dining room table. It hit with a jangly thump. She’d just made herself tea when she saw her sister.
Julia was out on the porch, in the freezing cold, wrapped in their father’s old woolen hunting coat.
Ellie made a second cup of tea and took it out to the porch.
Julia took the drink with a quiet “Thanks” and “have a seat.”
Ellie grabbed one of the old quilts from the trunk on the porch and wrapped it around her. Sitting on the porch swing, she put her feet on the trunk. “Where’s Max?”
Julia shook her head. “He had an emergency at the hospital. He wanted to stay . . . but I sort of needed to be alone. Alice is asleep.”
Ellie started to rise. “Should I—”