Sean brightened. “Yes!” he replied, so enthusiastically that it unnerved her.
Yes what, exactly?
“So,” Ello continued cautiously, “I saw her in the 2010 Olympics, when I was like four years old, and that’s what I wanted to be from then on. An ice dancer. So Dad wrote her and she sent me a letter and a signed photograph. We had them in these frames in my bedroom—you know the kind that sit side by side?”
Sean cocked his head and regarded her with intense blue eyes that seemed to absorb her words with a disconcerting insight. “You said you ‘had’ them? What happened?”
“So, we had to move once the twins were able to stand up. The bedroom was too small for me to share with them. I think my parents were worried I’d strangle them in their sleep.”
Sean laughed.
Ello noticed a few of the girls cut their eyes at him for a moment when he stretched his arms. “So we bought this bigger house,” she continued. “Which was good until the room we called “Ello’s Room” became my grandpa’s room after Grandma died.”
“I am so sorry,” Sean consoled.
Ello paused, wondering if he was talking about her grandma or the loss of a bedroom. “So anyway, the picture got misplaced.” She shrugged. “Not that big a deal. Happened in the move. My dad never found his golf clubs.”
“No, don’t say that.… It must have been really bad,” Sean protested.
Ello gave another shrug. “I’m not so much into it anymore.”
“My aunt’s an ice-dancing coach,” Sean volunteered after a moment.
“I know, you told me. It’s funny … most people don’t even know what ice dancing is. They think it’s figure skating.”
“Well, I know the difference,” he told her. “Why are you thinking of quitting?”
“I don’t know,” she replied. I sound like an idiot.
“My aunt taught me a few moves,” Sean confided. “I’m probably nowhere near as good as you, though.”
Ello felt herself blushing, and looked down at her paper to evade his eyes. “What about your most treasured possession?”
“Do you know who Wayne Gretzky is?”
Ello shook her head. “Who is he?”
“Oh my God. Only like one of the greatest hockey players in the history of the game. He had the most career goals, like 3,239.”
“So you don’t know the exact number?”
Sean blinked. Then he got it, and there was a different sort of appreciation in his eyes. He chucked delightedly. “Anyway, I have one of his jerseys. Like, one he actually wore and signed. It’s in my room in Detroit for when I go visit my dad.” Sean paused. “Wow. So we both like sort of the same thing, the same most valuable objects!” He looked astonished, as if they’d just discovered they were from the same small town in Poland. She couldn’t help but laugh at this boy. He reminded her of Ruby, bursting with puppy personality.
But then, as they stopped laughing, their eyes locked, and Ello’s heart beat so loudly she was afraid he’d hear it.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Apparently Mom was still in the hospital, because when Ello spotted the minivan, her grandfather was behind the wheel. She frowned at the change in routine. Then, when she slid open the door, Ruby flew out and straight into Ello’s arms and the frown vanished. “Ruby!” She slid into her seat, holding the wriggling puppy in her lap. “Oh, you silly girl.”
“I took her to see the vet at Petco,” Grandpa told her. “He said Ruby is some sort of spaniel mixed with Labrador. Looks like she’s about ten or twelve weeks old. Good health. Not microchipped. Winstead had his teeth cleaned. I’m going to drop you off at the house and then take the twins with me to the park and let everybody run around.”
Ello peered at her grandfather. “Did you, like, have a lot of coffee or something?”
Sander grunted uncomfortably. “Just pitching in.”
Ruby would just not stop kissing her, and soon Ello was giggling, her eyes scrunched shut under the assault. “Oh, Ruby, I love you so much.” She noticed her grandfather regarding her with a peculiar expression. “What is it, Grandpa Sander?”
“I’m just reminded that you and your dad agreed you’d try to find Ruby’s rightful owner. Are you doing that?”
Ello ignored the question, burying her face in puppy.
* * *
The next day, Tuesday, after picking the twins up from preschool, Sander sat by himself on a bench in the park and watched as Ewan and Garrett climbed the play structure and then tried to push each other off the top. The kid’s area was separated from the dog park by a chain-link fence, so Sander could keep an eye on the twins and also Ruby and Winstead, the only two canines in the enclosure, wrestling and playing.
The sun was peering wanly out from behind thin gray clouds, the air still, and the play structure populated by several other small children who were eyeing the twins with reserve. Ewan looked around for something to throw at them.
Four women were seated across the park on their own bench, chatting and watching the children clamber up and down the ladders and slides. He noticed them noticing him. They were clearly nonplussed at his appearance. They seemed to reach a conclusion and rose in unison, marching over to see why he was trespassing. Two of the women were slim and slightly built with long brown hair—mother and daughter, Sander decided.
The daughter seemed to be in her thirties. “Hi,” she greeted him. “Those your boys?”
Sander shrugged. “I’m their grandpa, but I can’t be held legally responsible.”
“How old are they? Twins, right?”
“Yes, identical. They are three. Three going on Seal Team Six.”
The women laughed. “I’m Audrey, and this is my mom Allison,” the daughter told him. Sander stood and introduced himself to all of them.
The family resemblance between Audrey and Allison went all the way down to the indistinguishable handshakes—small-boned fingers slipping weakly into his grip. The other two women were sizing him up, and one (he already couldn’t remember her name) told him he was nice to bring the kids to the park “… and give your wife a break.”
Sander nodded. “Actually, my wife died a little more than two years ago.”
The women glanced at each other in something that looked like alarm. “Oh, so sorry,” Audrey murmured. She nodded at Allison. “Mom’s a widow.”
“About four years ago,” Allison added.
“Sorry for your loss,” Sander replied automatically.
“So’s my mom,” announced the woman with a name that Sander thought was Sheri. Or Mary. Or Wanda. He looked at her. “A widow, I mean,” she elaborated.
“My mom’s a widow too,” the last woman stated for the record. “She’s really lonely.”
Sander didn’t know what to say to that.
Audrey sat on the bench, virtually pulling her mother onto it with her. Sander realized that, if he sat, there wouldn’t be room for the other two women, who were standing uncertainly, so he remained standing. “Oh, please, please, sit.” He gestured to the bench.
Garrett leapt from the play structure and landed in the mud in the manner of a man whose parachute hadn’t opened. Ewan jumped but missed his brother by inches. They both scrambled to climb back up and give it another try.
“Are you new to Traverse City?” Sheri/Mary/Wanda asked.
“Oh, no. I moved here after Barbara died.”
More glances of obscure but certain significance were exchanged between them.
Sander didn’t ask but found out that Allison loved to cook, did yoga, liked real books not ebooks, and lived in one of the large old houses off Front Street.
“Do you come to the park much? We haven’t seen you,” the other woman asked (Kay something? Kayla? Kate?).
“I’ve just recently decided to pitch in with the boys.”
“Will you be here tomorrow?”
“Probably not. The nanny’ll have the kids after preschool. I might come the day after, though.” He cupped his h
ands around his mouth and shouted at the twins to stop braining the other kids with pine cones and to stop pouring dirt down the slide and for Ewan to find his missing shoe.
“I’ll bring my mom with me next time,” Kayla/Kate said.
Allison frowned at this. “Lucille wouldn’t like it here in the park,” she asserted.
For some reason, the Wanda-woman laughed.
“Oh stop,” Kayla/Kate said.
“She wouldn’t want to get mud on her shoes,” Allison insisted.
It was, Sander concluded, a conversation he couldn’t possibly participate in. He cleared his throat. “Very nice meeting you,” he told them formally.
“Nice meeting you,” Audrey responded with odd vehemence.
“See you day after tomorrow,” Wanda/Suzette/Olga advised. “Thursday.”
Kay/Kate/Katrina just smiled.
* * *
Ello had been giving Ruby little nudges with her stockinged feet as they sprawled on the bed together, but now regretted it because the puppy had decided her toes were chew toys and was attacking them with sharp little teeth.
“Ow!” Ello called out sharply. Ruby stared, stunned, turning her head slightly. She was simply The Cutest Dog In The Universe. “Here, silly,” Ello invited, dragging a dry washcloth across the comforter. Ruby pounced, biting the square of cotton in the jugular and shaking it viciously.
“Whoever had you didn’t even get you a collar. They don’t deserve you,” Ello told the pup. “I just need for Mom to come home and meet you. Dad does whatever Mom says.”
Her phone chirped with a text.
SW: Loved your outfit today!
It was Soffea, her message encrusted with emojis.
Ello paused, contemplating. She and Soffea had not texted in some time. Ello’s choice. Well, Brittne’s, really. What was the significance of this communication now, out of the blue? Was Soffea aware of the ruling by the queen of middle school and deliberately choosing to ignore it?
Ello swallowed. Soffea had never been anything but nice to her.
EG: Thanks!
Ello added a heart, a kiss, and a smiley face with hearts for eyes.
SW: OMG your B/F is so CUTE!!!!! 6Y*!
(*Sexy!)
That felt like an earthquake. Ello’s thumbs hovered over the keys.
EG: He’s not.
SW: W@? Oh YES he is!
EG: No I mean he’s not my B/F.
SW: I thought he was visiting from another school. Someone said Croatia?
EG: No he lives here now. NUB.*
(*New Person.)
SW: OMG
EG: Did he say something about me?
SW: No I just thought so. NVM*
(*Never mind.)
Later, after she had put her phone down, Ello wondered why Soffea’s comment had delivered such a shock to her inner San Andreas … what felt different about Sean, different from other boys Ello had flirted with and crushed on … but in the end, she decided IDK.*
(*I don’t know.)
* * *
Sander awoke with a start. His son, barely illuminated in the light from the hallway, was leaning over him, his face completely in shadow.
“Dad,” Hunter said softly. “That was the hospital calling. I have to go back up.”
Sander had not heard the phone ring. He rubbed his face. “Time is it?”
“A little after four.”
Sander sifted through Hunter’s tone and detected raw fear. For some reason, he felt compelled to reach out and grab Hunter’s hand, as if they were closing a business deal. “You go on,” Sander urged. “I can handle everything here.”
As soon as Hunter left the room, Sander whispered, “Oh, Barbara,” and knelt next to his dog, spilling tears into Winstead’s fur.
At breakfast, it seemed that Sander had everything under control. The twins were reasonably clean and free of most smears and crumbs when he dropped them off at preschool. Ello’s slouching, burdened walk up her school steps somehow looked less dreary and obdurate to him today. Winstead and Ruby wrestled tirelessly in the back seat. The nanny, Mrs. Espinoza, had preschool pickup duty, which gave him freedom to do what he wanted. He debated heading over to the park to see if Audrey and her mother were there, but in the end chose to drive down to the boardwalk along the bay to exercise the dogs, which gave his arm a workout as the puppy yanked and lunged on her leash. He was amused to see that whenever Winstead lifted his leg, Ruby would sniff and then squat in the same place. It was as if Winstead was giving Ruby dog lessons.
The dogs were out in the backyard, napping, when Sander left to pick up his granddaughter. He asked her if she’d like to get some ice cream, like the two of them used to do when he visited back in the day … back when Barbara was alive. Ello plainly didn’t want to, but nodded anyway. Being an old widower gave him an advantage in these sorts of negotiations.
Hunter was waiting for them in the kitchen by the time they returned home. He was holding a glass of amber liquid. Sander stared; Hunter seldom drank, and certainly not in the afternoon. Ello sensed something too, evident in the stiff way she halted when she saw her father.
“I need to talk to you,” Hunter said gravely.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
What Hunter needed to do more than anything was start speaking right now, because Ello was regarding him with a gouging terror. The problem was, he didn’t trust his voice not to crack, and if he let his daughter see his own fear, it might kill her.
Sander’s face betrayed nothing but grim purpose, ready to hear the absolute worst. Even the dogs seemed anxious, though they displayed it in different ways: Winstead was focused and tense, while Ruby had put her bottom on the floor and was wagging a tiny bit, just a flutter, carefully watching Ello.
Hunter took a deep swallow of his whiskey, some irrelevant part of his brain pondering why it was that in the movies alcohol seemed to bring resolve and steadfastness to a person, whereas all it did to Hunter was blast an unnerving ball of fire into his stomach.
“Dad?” Ello asked tremulously. She reached down, scooped up Ruby, and clutched the little puppy to her chest.
“Ello…” Hunter began. “There is no easy way to say this.”
Ello cringed.
“Your mother is in organ failure.”
Sander reacted to this news with a widening of his eyes, but Ello shook her head frantically. “Wait, what does that mean? Organ failure?”
“It means that her infection is so bad it’s invading her vital organs. The doctors have put her into a coma to keep her stable, and they’re doing the best they can. I came home to get you. Mrs. Espinoza is taking the boys home with her. Let’s put the dogs in the basement. There’s nothing a puppy can destroy down there.” He set the whiskey glass down on the coffee table. “Let’s go.”
* * *
Ello thought she was ready. While in the car, she mentally prepared herself for what she’d encounter in the hospital, telling herself she would be strong and brave for her family. But when she saw her mother lying in bed connected to all the tubes and the machines, olive-complexioned face somehow turned pale, Ello crumpled. Only her father’s swift movement to embrace her kept her from dropping to the floor.
“Ello. Ello,” her father murmured.
She gripped him and concentrated on trying to find strength. Finally she wiped her eyes and raised them to her father. “Could I have a few minutes to talk to her alone?”
Sander and Hunter glanced at each other, communicating something; then, with a nod, they left the room.
Ello reached out and took her mother’s listless hand. “Mom,” Ello whispered.
For a moment that was all she could manage, that one word. Then she swallowed, shaking her head. “Mom, please, I can’t lose you. I can’t imagine life without you. The whole family needs you, Mom,” Ello pleaded. She was crying now: choking, gasping sobs that made it difficult to speak or even breathe.
“I am so sorry. I’m sorry I’ve been such a bitch. I mean, I don’t k
now why…” Ello trailed off. “Mom, please come home. Please get better. I promise if you do, I won’t act the way I’ve been acting. I’ll clean up my room. I’ll do my homework. And I’ll make sure that Ruby gets back to her owner.”
Ello leaned over and pressed her face into her mother’s shoulder and her throat constricted agonizingly, as if it were tearing apart. “Just don’t die, Mom! Please! Please!”
* * *
Sander and Hunter found a cold, sterile room with coffee and couches and no comfort. They went to the coffee cups automatically, but in the end, Hunter declared that his sour stomach wouldn’t let him contemplate drinking any more of the stuff. He gestured for Sander to partake if he wanted, but Sander wasn’t interested either.
Sander stared at his pain-wracked son, feeling utterly helpless. Surely there was something he could do. But Hunter was looking deep inside himself and seemed to have forgotten there was anyone else in the room.
Sander wondered when his son and he had last exchanged a hug. Not the back-thumping, awkward embrace when they’d been separated for a while and were saying hello, but a real, loving hug. A father embracing his boy. A boy who needed his dad. Had to be back when Hunter was twelve or so. After that, he was too grown-up. A father didn’t force that sort of affection on a son once the boy got to a certain age—right? Or should Sander have insisted on it for himself?
He knew he should utter something comforting, and he groped for the words. An alarming sadness was building up inside him, some unexpressed grief determined to volcano its way to the surface. He had spent so much time in hospitals while Barbara struggled. The smells and sounds were sickeningly familiar and gave him vertigo.
Sander tamped down the unexpected surge of emotion.
This isn’t about you, it’s about your son.
“Hunter.”
Hunter looked at him with dead eyes.
“I just want you to know that, if the worst thing happens, if we lose Juliana … No, no, wait, listen. I’m saying that when your mom died, I thought the world had ended. And, though sometimes it still feels like it did, I’m still alive, I’m still living life. I have you and my grandchildren. We can get through it together. We’ll still have life, and life goes on.”
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