His car’s in the driveway. I see that as I round the corner.
My heart pounds so it makes me sick to my stomach.
What in the world? What am I scared about?
When I turn off the car and take the keys from the ignition, I drop them my hand is trembling so and I leave them on the floor mat. I have to swallow a couple of times. Rest my head on the steering wheel. When I look up, I see Taylor standing on his front porch, hands deep in his pockets, the door ajar behind him.
He just stands there, waiting, waiting for me.
Like he has for the last few months.
I get out of the car. At first I can’t quite move my feet, and then I can’t get to him fast enough.
“London,” he says when I’m standing in front of him.
I swallow. “I have a niece,” I say. “A little girl niece.”
This slow smile starts across Taylor’s face. “A little girl niece?” he says. “She kept it?”
“Her. She kept her.”
And then I put both my hands on his face and kiss him.
“Thank you,” I say. “Thank you for waiting for me to come back.”
I put my arms around him, my head on his chest, listen to his heart. After a second or two his hands rest on my hips, and we stand there like that for I don’t know how long.
When I open my eyes, the moon has filled my bedroom with light.
Zach’s at the foot of my bed. “You are hard to wake up.”
“Zachy,” I say. “I saw her.”
He doesn’t say anything, just kind of turns away from me.
When he looks back, I can see he’s crying. The tears slide down his face like diamonds.
“Is she pretty?” he says.
“Beautiful.”
I can see my breath. I sit up, scoot down the bed till I sit right next to my brother. I kiss his cheek and his face is as soft as London Faith’s. “She’s just like you.”
Zach shakes his head and tears fall in his lap, shining, diamond chips, then disappear.
“I’ll do everything I can for her,” I say.
“I know you will, London,” Zach says. And then he sobs.
“I miss you all so much,” he says. “I miss you all so much.”
I’m crying too. Crying like nothing could stop me. “I miss you too, Zach. We all do.”
“She’ll never know me,” he says, and that makes me cry even harder.
“I’ll tell her everything,” I say.
“Everything?” he asks. He hesitates. “Even the end?”
I swallow. “When she’s ready.” My words come out like a puff of frozen steam.
“I love you, London,” he says. “More than you can know.”
And then he’s gone, and I awake with a start.
“London?”
Daddy stands in my room, just in the doorway. The moon is so bright I can see he wears striped pajamas.
“You okay, London?”
I’m crying, hard. I have to grab at air to speak. “Yes.”
Daddy pads into my room, and I see that he’s put on his slippers.
He sits on the bed, exactly where Zach sat, and I pull the covers to my chin. We’re quiet for a long time. Then I say,
“I think we’re going to make it, Daddy.”
He lets out a sigh, bows his head like he’s praying. “You think so, London?”
My throat closes up, but I manage to say, “Yes, Daddy, I do.” I pull in a deep breath, hoping to Jesus, my good Jesus, that I am right. Then I whisper, “Let me tell you about his little girl.”
CAROL LYNCH WILLIAMS is the author of more than one dozen books. Ms. Williams holds an MFA in writing for children and young adults from Vermont College of Fine Arts, and she received the PEN American Foundation Phyllis Reynolds Naylor Award for Glimpse. She teaches writing and helped develop the Writing and Illustrating for Young Readers conference (read more at her blog, throwingupwords.wordpress.com). She lives with her family in Utah. Visit her at CarolLynchWilliams.com.
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Waiting
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