Magic Hour

She picked the little girl up, held her tightly. “Hey, little one.” She tried to smile. Hopefully it didn’t look as brittle as it felt.

Alice frowned up at her. “Sad?”

“Happy to be home,” Julia said.

Relief shone in Alice’s eyes. She hugged Julia again and kissed her neck.

Ellie came up behind them and smoothed Alice’s hair. “Hey girlie-girl.”

“Hi Lellie,” she said in a muffled, happy voice.

Max was standing now. Firelight backlit him; the brightness made his face appear shadowed. “Julia?” he said. There was no mistaking the concern in his voice.

It almost undid her. She sidestepped his touch, trying to make it look like an accident, but she saw that he wasn’t fooled. Of course he wasn’t. She didn’t know much about Max, but she knew this: he recognized heartache, understood its taste and feel and texture. And he saw it now on her face. There was no way for her to hide it, not with Alice in her arms and George Azelle’s envelope in her coat pocket.

If Max touched her now, she’d cry, and she didn’t want that. God knew, she would need strength for what was to come.

“He wants her back.”

The sad understanding in Max’s eyes was almost more than she could bear. He moved slowly toward her. For a second she thought he was going to kiss her. Instead he said, “I’ll wait up for you.”

“But—”

“It doesn’t matter when. Come over when you can. You’ll need me.”

She couldn’t deny that.

“I’ll wait up for you,” he said again; this time he didn’t wait for a response. He said good-bye to each of them and left.

Silence swept in behind him.

“Max bye-bye,” Alice said. “No Jewlee leave?”

Julia swallowed hard, feeling the sting of tears. She clung fiercely to Alice. “I won’t leave you, Alice,” she said, praying it would be true.

FOR THE REST OF THE EVENING JULIA MOVED IN A FOG. ALICE SEEMED TO sense that something was wrong. She shadowed Julia even more closely than usual.

By nine o’clock they were both exhausted. Julia gave the little girl a bath, braided her hair, and tucked her into bed. Snuggling in close on the narrow mattress, she tried to read a bedtime story, but the words kept blurring before her eyes.

“Jewlee sad?” Alice said repeatedly, her small face scrunched into a frown.

“I’m fine,” Julia said, closing the book and kissing the girl good-night. “I love you,” she whispered against the soft baby-scented cheek.

“Stay,” Alice murmured, her eyes heavy.

“No. It’s nighttime. Alice sleeps now.”

Alice nodded and popped her thumb in her mouth.

Julia stared down at the girl.

My girl.

An ache blossomed in her chest. She turned away from the bed and went downstairs.

Ellie sat at the kitchen table, reading through a stack of papers. The dogs lay on the floor beside her, uncharacteristically docile. “The court said—”

Julia lifted a hand as if to ward off a blow. “I can’t talk about it right now. I need some . . . time. Will y