“I like him, too.” Siena moved close to Leslie and put her hand on Leslie’s shoulder.
It was the first time Siena had touched her. It was an important moment between them. A rush of emotion stole Leslie’s breath.
“Who’s that?” Siena whispered, staring at the third figure in Leslie’s hands. She ran her fingertips over the smooth marble folds of the gown covering the figure’s form.
Leslie cleared her throat, regaining her composure. “Her name is Quan Yin.” Leslie set the statue in its place on the table.
“Is she a Buddha, too?” Siena’s gaze remained fixed on her.
“Some people call her a Buddha; others say she’s what’s known as a bodhisattva, which is someone who’s learning and following the teachings of Buddha and is almost one. Either way, she’s known for her compassion.”
“What’s compash…” Siena glided her fingertips over the statue’s serene expression.
“Compassion?” Leslie thought for a moment on how to explain such a concept to a seven-year-old. She was impressed as hell that Siena was following the conversation as well as she was. Despite her issues, she seemed more advanced in some ways. “It’s like taking love and concern and being able to feel what someone else is feeling and putting them all together. And in Quan Yin’s case, it’s like a really strong and protective love, like the way a mother loves her child.”
“Like my mom,” Siena said, clearly coming to a conclusion.
Leslie smiled, thinking of the way Erica looked at Siena, her vigilance where she was concerned, the choices she’d made. “Exactly like your mom.”
“But can Buddhas live in jungles?” Siena asked.
“What?” Leslie wasn’t following the shift.
“You said we can make this room a jungle. But what if they can’t live in a jungle?” Siena looked from one statue to the next.
Oh. I did say I’d give the jungle motif some thought. But now that things had changed… “Actually, they can,” she heard herself saying. “They’ve found Buddha statues—great big ones, twenty feet tall—in jungles all over the world. In Vietnam. In Thailand. In Peru, I think.”
Siena’s forehead scrunched, and she pursed her lips in thought, then nodded.
Leslie adjusted all three statues on the table, positioning them the way she liked. They’d been with her everywhere she’d lived for a long time. Now that they were unpacked and displayed, she was truly home again.
“Who are these people?” Siena asked. She’d pulled something else from the box.
Leslie glanced at the picture her parents had taken on their fortieth wedding anniversary. “That’s my mom,” she said, pointing, “and that’s my dad.”
Siena studied the photo. “Where do they live?”
“Well,” Leslie said considering how to proceed with this one. “They don’t live anywhere here on Earth anymore. Do you know what it means when somebody dies?”
“Yes.” Siena’s answer was decisive. “Grandma Millie died. And my goldfish, Hazel, died. I didn’t see Grandma Millie after she died, but when Hazel died, she didn’t swim anymore and she didn’t eat fish food anymore and she didn’t poop anymore. So she was done being a fish.” She tilted her head with a thoughtful expression. “I bet Grandma Millie didn’t poop after she died either.” She turned to Leslie. “We buried Hazel in a matchbox in the garden. She makes the flowers on the camellia bush pretty with her bright colors.”
Leslie blinked, amazed at Siena’s level of understanding and her ability to put it into words. “Okay. That’s very good. So my mom and dad died about ten years ago, but they used to live right here in this house. And so did I, when I was growing up. That’s why I came back here.”
Siena squinted one eye and studied her. “I thought you came here to be with me and my mom. And to bring us Gus.”
Leslie opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. What did one say to a statement like that? It did fit with Leslie’s beliefs about life, that each of us had contracts, so to speak, with others, to come into one another’s lives for specific reasons. She hadn’t considered that aspect of her current life. “Uh…well, maybe. Maybe that, too.”
Siena was digging around in the box again. She pulled out another framed photograph.
Leslie knew what it was. She hadn’t thought of it before opening the box. She braced herself.
“Is this your little boy?” Siena asked after a beat.
Leslie swallowed. He wasn’t, technically, and yet, she couldn’t deny him. He was her little boy, no matter what anyone else said or did. He’d been her son in her heart from day one. “Yes,” she said in defiance of everything that had happened. “That’s Elijah. He’s about your age now.” In the picture, he was younger. It was his school photo from kindergarten, and the most recent one she had. It might very well be the last one she’d ever have.
“Where does he live?”
Siena’s questions suddenly seemed endless. “He lives with his other mom,” Leslie said. It felt good to claim him and her position with him again, even if it was only with a child.
Siena cocked her head and shot Leslie a sideways glance. “He has two moms?”
He did, but not anymore. Leslie only nodded.
“My friend Jerry in my day program has two moms,” Siena said brightly. “My mom says a lot of kids do.”
But Siena didn’t. She had a mom and a dad, even though the dad had left. It’d infuriated Leslie to hear that Trent hadn’t wanted to stay once Siena was born, hadn’t wanted Siena at all. She knew it was her own resentment she was feeling from having Elijah taken from her, but it still angered her if she thought about Trent. He’d thrown away the very thing Leslie had wanted desperately and had been denied. And yet, if he and Erica were still married, if the three of them were a traditional family, Erica and Siena wouldn’t have been living here when she returned and she never would have met them. Even in the short time she’d known them, she had to admit they’d already touched her. Had she come home to be with them? If so, in what capacity?
She wondered if Erica had ever been with a woman for any length of time. She’d said she’d dated one since she’d been here, but Leslie hadn’t let her elaborate or asked her any questions. Siena clearly had no experience of her own with having two moms, though.
Leslie couldn’t let herself wonder about such things, or care. She had to keep her emotions about Erica and Siena, about Elijah, under control, and this whole conversation with Siena was threatening to unhinge her. “Hey, can you do me a favor?” she asked Siena. “Can you take both of those pictures upstairs and put them on my dresser?”
Siena scrambled to her feet and ran up the stairs without answering.
Leslie blew out a breath. Erica will be feeling better soon. Then I can go back to getting my own life here established and let them get back to theirs. Distance.
When Siena returned, Leslie was putting the new sheets into the dryer. “Are you ready for dinner?” she asked, setting the heat dial.
“Can we watch the stars come out first and say ‘Star Light, Star Bright?’ I want to make a wish.”
“Sure,” Leslie said with a chuckle. Maybe a wish would do her good as well, get her mind off Elijah and what she’d lost. Then it was time to get back to business. She needed to check in with Erica to see if she wanted to get Siena to her program the following morning or let her stay home again. She doubted Erica would be up to eating anything yet, but she should touch base with her on that, too. It could all wait a little while longer, though. A little girl wanted to make a wish, and what was more important than that?
* * *
Erica heard voices. She couldn’t decipher what they were saying—they were too far away—but she recognized the lilt of Siena’s that always made her smile, then the timbre of Leslie’s. She opened her eyes and took stock of herself and her surroundings.
Gus was gone. The French doors leading onto her balcony were ajar, letting in a gentle breeze. She remembered opening them for fresh air on her
way back from the bathroom earlier. After successfully keeping down a spoonful of ice chips every so often, she’d gotten delusions of grandeur and tried to drink an entire glass of water, only to have it come right back up a mere fifteen minutes later. The bright side was that she’d managed to make it to the bathroom on her own and she hadn’t thrown it up in her bed. An improvement, albeit a marginal one. Then it’d been back to bed, as that little journey had wiped her out once more.
God, I feel so useless. She couldn’t remember anything like this ever happening to her before. Sure, maybe as a kid, but not since becoming an adult, and certainly not since Siena had been born. She never would have been able to imagine turning Siena over to someone else because she was too weak, or too predisposed in the bathroom, to even get up and make breakfast. And to a virtual stranger no less. But thank God for that virtual stranger.
With a sigh, Erica kicked off her covers. She needed to use the restroom, although for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out why. There couldn’t be anything in her system. And she had to brush her teeth.
On her way back, she heard Siena’s laughter and slowly covered the distance to the open French doors. When she stepped outside, the cool evening air felt so good on her bare legs. It brightened her mood and had a rejuvenating effect as it whispered across her face. She was met by the grayish blue of dusk. She’d slept the entire day away. She looked down into the backyard and saw Leslie, Siena, and Gus all lying on the grass, side by side, Siena and Leslie staring up at the sky.
“Look, there’s one,” Siena said, pointing into the encroaching darkness. “Star light, star bright…”
Erica smiled and wondered what Siena was wishing for. She lifted her face to the heavens to make her own. Why not? Star light, star bright. First star I see tonight. Wish I may, wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight. And that was it. That was all she could manage. She struggled to concoct an actual wish. She lowered herself onto the lounge chair. I wish I could stand for more than three minutes at a time. A simple one—a waste under normal circumstances—but right now, she’d give almost anything for it.
After a few minutes, the trio below rose and turned toward the house.
Leslie glanced up and met Erica’s gaze. A broad grin lit her face.
Erica could only manage a two-finger wave, then she leaned back and closed her eyes. This was pathetic. It had to pass soon. How long could bad chicken maintain so much power? She wondered if Becky still felt as lousy as she did. She’d have to try to call her tomorrow.
A cold, wet nose poked into her palm.
She smiled. “Hey there, bed buddy,” she said. “Where have you been?”
“You’re up,” Leslie said softly. “How’re you feeling?”
Erica opened her eyes to find her standing in the doorway and Siena beside the chair. She grinned at the sight of Siena’s outfit, recalling how proud Siena had been earlier when she’d announced to Erica that she’d dressed herself. Indeed. She’d made a mental note that she should suck up her parental ego and let Siena do that once in a while. “There isn’t much different on this front. What have you guys been up to?”
“We unpacked,” Siena said. “I helped.”
“You did?” Erica chuckled as she ran her fingers through Gus’s fur. “What did you unpack?”
“A bunch of movies that Leslie said we could watch. Some clothes. That was boring. And Buddhas.” Siena’s eyes flashed with the last word. “And they can live in jungles, so they’ll be fine in the living room.”
“Buddhas?” Erica wasn’t sure she was following. The jungle threw her.
“Uh-huh. There’s a fat one that’s blue. What’s his name again?” she asked Leslie.
“Hotei.” Leslie stood leaning against the doorjamb, as patient as ever.
“Yeah, Hotei.” Siena turned back to Erica. “And a green one with his eyes closed. And a lady, that some people think is a soft bow tie, but I want her to be a Buddha, like you.”
“A soft bow tie?” Erica looked to Leslie for help.
“I think she means a bodhisattva. It’s a statue of Quan Yin,” Leslie said, a twinkle of amusement in her eyes. “How about if we let your mom come see them for herself when she’s feeling better?” she asked Siena.
“That’s a great idea,” Erica said gratefully. She wasn’t tracking much of this conversation. “Then you can tell me all about them.”
“Okay.” Siena sat cross-legged next to Gus and started petting his other side.
“We just came in to say hi and see if you were up to trying anything for dinner.” Leslie’s manner was relaxed, though she seemed a little tired. No wonder, with everything she’d handled today. “We have lime Jell-O on the menu for you. There’s also broth and soda crackers, but those might be too much.”
Erica’s stomach flipped over on itself and saliva collected in her mouth. She swallowed. “I don’t think I’m up to anything yet. I’ll stick to ice chips. Did you two go to the store?” Of the items mentioned, she had only the crackers in her kitchen. She felt uneasy at the thought of Leslie taking Siena somewhere without her knowing.
“No,” Leslie said quickly. She seemed to pick up on Erica’s apprehension. “I called Nell. She brought some things by.”
“She found a quarter in my ear,” Siena said, a puzzled look on her face.
Erica laughed. “Maybe we should do a better job of cleaning your ears.”
Siena wrinkled her nose. She hated having her ears cleaned. She said the Q-tips made her head squeak.
“Okay,” Leslie said, humor in her voice. “Siena, will you run downstairs and fill a pot with water for me? Don’t do anything else. I’ll be right there.”
“All right.” Siena and Gus were on their way in a flash.
Leslie watched Erica. “You look exhausted still. Do you need some help getting back to bed?”
Erica looked out over her backyard, taking in the tiny lights in the trees and the pink glow of Leslie’s pool light next door. It was so pretty. “I think I’ll stay out here a while. It’s nice.” She looked at Leslie. “Will you all come back up after you eat?” She was getting a little lonely. “Maybe we could play some Go Fish? I think I can concentrate enough for that.” She let her eyelids close, then opened them again.
“Sure,” Leslie said. “Do you know what you want to do about tomorrow? If you want Siena to go to school or if it’d be better for her to stay home again?”
Erica drew in a deep breath. She hadn’t considered tomorrow. “How bad was it this morning?” she asked. “All I remember hearing was one shriek, but that usually means there’s more.”
Leslie looked thoughtful, then lifted one shoulder. “I’d say it was somewhat worse than Sunday night with the Wendy’s burgers but not nearly as bad as the night with the puzzle.”
Erica nodded. She couldn’t imagine she’d be able to drive by morning, but she couldn’t monitor Siena all day either. Maybe she could get one of the sitters from the service who worked regularly with families in the support groups, although they might already be booked, depending on how many people ended up with food poisoning from the night before. Once again, she envied Becky having Jack.
“She can stay with me again,” Leslie said, evidently utilizing her mind reading skills. “I don’t mind.”
Erica raised her gaze to Leslie’s. Guilt mingled with gratitude. How could she take up another of Leslie’s days when Leslie had so much to do? And yet… “I’m sorry. I don’t really know what else to do. The caretakers we normally use—”
“I don’t mind,” Leslie said again, this time more firmly. “I enjoy Siena, and she’s good free labor.”
Erica laughed weakly. “I don’t know how I’m ever going to thank you enough for this.”
“Isn’t this what neighbors do?” Leslie’s dark eyes were warm in the glow of light spilling from the bedroom. She must have turned on the bedside lamp on her way through.
Erica curled her hair behind her ear and looked away. “What you’ve done,
and what you’re doing, far surpasses any good neighbor policy.”
“I know that little hair-tuck, look-somewhere-else move you do means you don’t want to talk about whatever the subject is, so I’ll just say, don’t worry about it.” Without saying more, Leslie left the balcony. “I’m sure there will come a time when I need to borrow an egg or something,” she called from inside. She returned with a blanket, then leaned down and covered Erica’s legs.
Erica was stunned into silence, both by the gesture and by Leslie’s acute observation. She’d known people for years who’d never picked up on that tell of hers—Trent at the top of the list. How could Leslie have even noticed it, let alone deciphered its meaning, in such a short period of time?
Leslie’s fingers brushed the bare skin of the back of Erica’s thigh as she tucked the blanket around her.
The touch sizzled, heating Erica’s blood. The intensity almost burned her flesh. Then it was gone, leaving a crackle of energy like a flash of lightning.
“You could get chilled out here,” Leslie said, her face close to Erica’s.
Not with you here, in more ways than one. “Thank you,” Erica whispered. Were those tears pricking her eyes?
“You’re welcome.” Leslie’s cheeks looked flushed, but it was hard to tell in the dim light. She straightened, then cleared her throat. “Is it all right if we forgo Siena’s bath tonight? She didn’t do much to get dirty today, and I don’t know how comfortable she’d be with me doing it.”
“Of course,” Erica said. She wanted to say thank you again, and again. And again. Thank you for the hugeness of everything Leslie was doing, for the thoughtfulness of considering Siena’s feelings about the bath, for the blanket, for the making of Siena’s meals, the call to her cousin to bring Jell-O and broth for Erica. Her gratitude swelled into a tidal wave that threatened to bring on the tears full force. And then there was that touch—a single connection of flesh that set Erica on fire. Leslie hadn’t seemed to notice. Thank God.
A Wish Upon a Star Page 12
