On Mystic Lake

“That’s not too hot, is it?” Annie asked. “No, Annie, that’s just right. Just exactly the temperature I like. ”

Izzy stared at her.

Annie grinned. “I can carry on a conversation all by myself. When I was a girl—I was an only child, too—I used to do it all the time. ”

Annie poured bubble bath into the falling water. Izzy watched, apparently awestruck, as airy white foam bubbled up around her.

Then Annie lighted a trio of votive candles she’d found in the kitchen. The sweet aroma of vanilla rose in the air. “Sometimes a girl needs a romantic bath—just for her.

Okay. ” She reached into her brown bag. “Look at my goodies. I’ve got Johnson’s baby shampoo, Pocahontas soap, a Hunchback of Notre Dame towel, and a Beauty and the Beast comb. And this darling play suit. It’s lavender with little yellow flowers—just like your mom’s garden will be—and a matching yellow hat. ”

She kept up a steady stream of dialogue, asking questions and answering them herself as she washed Izzy’s long hair and lathered and rinsed her body, and finally helped her out of the tub. She wrapped the tiny girl in a huge towel and began combing her hair. “I remember when my daughter, Natalie, was your age. No bigger than a minute. It used to make my heart ache just to look at her. ” She wove Izzy’s hair into a pair of perfect French braids and finished them off with two yellow satin bows.

“Turn around. ”

Dutifully, Izzy turned.

Annie dressed her in new white cotton underwear and helped her into the lavender blouse and overalls. When she was finished, she guided Izzy to the full-length mirror in the corner.

The little girl stared at herself for a long, long time. Then, very slowly, she lifted her right hand and touched the satin ribbons with her forefinger. Her rosebud mouth wobbled uncertainly. She bit down hard on her lower lip. A single tear trickled down Izzy’s flushed pink cheek. Just one.

Annie understood. It was what she’d been hoping for, at least in part. That Izzy would see herself as she used to be. “I bet you always used to look like this, didn’t you, Izzy?”

She placed a tender kiss on Izzy’s forehead. The child smelled of baby shampoo and new soap. Like little girls everywhere.

Then, Annie sat back on her heels and looked steadily in Izzy’s eyes. “You know how you share your toys with a friend, and you have more fun than if you were playing all by yourself? Sometimes that’s true of sadness, too. Sometimes if you share it, it goes away. ”

Izzy didn’t respond.

Annie smiled. “Now, I could use some help in the kitchen. I’ve started dinner, but I can’t find the dishes anywhere. Maybe you could help me?”

Izzy blinked.

Annie took that as a yes.

Together, they went down to the kitchen. Izzy walked dutifully toward the table and sat down. Her little feet dangled above the floor.

Annie talked the whole time she made dumplings, stirring batter and dropping it into the simmering chicken stew. “Do you know how to set the table?” she asked as she put the lid on the big metal pot.

Izzy didn’t answer.

“This isn’t going to work, you know, Miss Izzy. ” Annie picked up a spoon and handed it to the girl. “Here you go—this is for you. ”

Izzy used her thumb and forefinger to take hold of the spoon. She stared at it, then frowned up at Annie.

“One shake of the spoon is yes. Two shakes is no. That way we can talk . . . sort of in code, without ever having to say something out loud. Now, do you think you could show me where the plates are?”

Izzy stared unblinking at the spoon for a long, long time. Then, very slowly, she shook it once.

“Hey, Nicky, I hear Hank Bourne’s daughter is back in town. ”

Nick glanced up from his drink. There was a headache pounding behind his eyes, and he couldn’t quite focus. He’d had it all day, ever since the fiasco at the Weaver place. He’d booked Chuck and thrown him in a cell, but already Sally had been to the station to make sure that no charges were leveled at her husband. Already she’d told the desk sergeant that she’d fallen down the stairs.

Nick thought that if he stopped in at Zoe’s for a quick drink—just one to steady his nerves—he’d be okay to face Annie and Izzy at home. But, like always, one drink led to another and another and another . . .

What he’d seen in Sally’s eyes opened a wound in his soul, a dark, ugly place that was bubbling with painful memories.

He closed his fingers around the glass and took another long, soothing pull of the scotch. “Whatever you say, Zoe. ”