On Mystic Lake

Her question disconcerted Nick for a second, made him wonder if she could read his mind. “I always wanted to. Hell, I wanted six kids, but after Izzy, it was obvious that Kathy couldn’t handle any more. When Izzy was about two, I had a vasectomy. ” He glanced down at her, cuddled so close to him. “How about you? You’re such a wonderful mother. ”

It was a long time before she answered. “Adrian would have been fourteen this year. He was my son. ”

“Annie . . . ”

She didn’t look at him. “He came prematurely and only lived for four days. After that, we tried everything, but I couldn’t get pregnant again. Usually he’s just a little smile I get, or a tear that stings my eyes, but sometimes . . . it’s harder. I always wanted more children. ”

He didn’t want to say he was sorry; he knew firsthand how plastic the words could sound, a Band-Aid on an arterial wound. Instead, he pulled her into his arms and held her as close as he could, so close he could feel her heartbeat against his skin.

He knew he was losing himself in the moment, in Annie, but right now he didn’t care. It was too late to be safe, too late to keep from loving her.

Jefferson R. Smithwood Elementary School sat on a grassy hill surrounded by hundred-year-old fir trees. A long cement walkway started at the double black doors and slid down to the parking lot, where cars were lined along a tall chain-link fence.

Nick stood close to the curb, with Izzy beside him. Annie stood on Izzy’s other side.

His little girl was scared, and it was up to him to make her feel confident; but he had no idea how to do that. Over Izzy’s dark head, he gave Annie a helpless look.

You can do it, she mouthed with a smile.

Swallowing hard, he bent to his knees and looked at Izzy. She tried to smile, but it was a quick, jerking little tilt of the mouth that didn’t reach her eyes. He reached out and plucked up the satiny yellow ribbon that hung at the bottom of her braid.

Her lower lip quivered. “They’ll make fun o’ me. ”

“Then I’ll beat the sh—”

Annie squeezed his shoulder and Nick bit back the words. “They won’t make fun of you,” he said instead.

“I’m . . . different. ”

He shook his head. “No. You’ve had some . . . sadness. And sometimes that makes a person go a little . . . crazy. But you’re going to be okay this time. I promise. ”

“Will you be here to pick me up after the party?”

“Yep. ”

“Right after?”

“Right after. ”

“Okay,” she said at last.

He smiled. “That’s my girl. ”

Slowly, knees popping, he got back to his feet. He glanced at Annie, who was grinning at him, although her eyes were suspiciously moist.

Together, the three of them started up the cement sidewalk toward the school.

“Lions and tigers and bears, oh my!” Annie said suddenly.

Nick almost burst out laughing. It was a ridiculous thing to do, but at that moment it felt exactly right. He joined in. “Lions and tigers and bears, oh my!”

At first, Izzy’s voice was hesitant, but with each chorus it gained strength, until all three of them were singing at the top of their lungs as they strode up the sidewalk, up the steps, and right to the front door.

Nick pushed through the double black doors, and the three of them entered the quiet hallways of the elementary school. To the left there was a long Formica table, piled high with all the jackets and lunch boxes and sweaters that the children left behind.

Izzy stopped. “I wanna go in by myself,” she said quietly. “That way they won’t think I’m a baby. ” She gave Nick and Annie one last, frightened look, then started down the hallway.

Nick fought the urge to run after her.