by Mary Campisi
She led Lily to the full-length mirror behind the door. “There. Now, look.”
Lily opened her eyes and stared at herself. She inched closer, eyes narrowing behind her thick glasses. Gently, as though afraid the clothes might tear, she reached up and fingered the hat, then the jacket, working her way down to the boots, all the while watching herself in the mirror. She straightened and turned to the right, then left, tilting her head forward, backward, to the side.
“Happy birthday, Lily. You look beautiful.”
Lily sniffed, wiped a tear away with her finger. “Daddy’s girls, that’s us.”
Tears clogged Christine’s throat making speech impossible, so she merely nodded and pulled Lily into her arms.
“We miss you, Daddy,” Lily murmured into Christine’s hair, “we miss you.”
***
“It’s late, Nate. I’d better go.”
He stroked her back. “It’s”—he squinted at the alarm clock on the nightstand—“two o’clock. That’s early, stay a while.”
“I can’t.”
“I missed you.” Hard to admit, but it was the truth.
“I was here last night.”
“So? I can’t want you more than once a month?”
“What about Lily?”
“What about Lily?”
“What will we say when she comes looking for me in the morning and I’m not there?”
“Maybe you got up early and went for a drive.”
“For five months, she’s had to drag me out of bed; do you think she’ll buy that?”
“Hell, I don’t know.” He lifted her hair, let the weight of it fall through his fingers. “I want you in my bed.”
“I’ll be in your bed.” Her voice spilled over him.
“Not the bed I slept in as a kid, this bed, the one with me in it.”
Her laugh made him hard all over again. Would he ever get used to the feel of her on him, the smell of her, the taste? God, he hoped not.
“Lily can’t wait until Saturday.”
He eased his fingers along her hip. “I don’t want to talk about Lily right now.”
“But she’s—”
He flipped her over, spread her legs. “She’s my kid sister and I love her but right now she’s cramping my style.” He buried himself deep inside her, moved slowly. Christine let out a soft, low moan and clutched his shoulders. He laughed, nuzzling her neck. “Now, what did you say about leaving?”
She did leave at three-thirty with a promise to work on a plausible excuse to stay overnight the next time, which would be tonight if he had his way.
He’d missed her this past month, had found himself watching the calendar, mentally crossing off the days until she’d be back. Lily became his companion in the waiting game. She never tired of sharing little snippets of conversation she’d had with Christine; how Christine was afraid of spiders, how Christine once ate a whole box of Thin Mint Girl Scout cookies, how Christine loved the way the sky lit up during a thunderstorm, and even, how Christine missed her father. He was eager, almost desperate to learn all he could about her. And each day he watched Lily mark a big red X on the calendar, narrowing the days until she’d come back to them.
How in God’s name had his mother done it all those years? Four days on, twenty-seven off, some months maybe twenty-six and the big bonus in February when the gap lessened to twenty-four days in between. He couldn’t see himself settling for four lousy days a month, even if they were great days. Okay, they were incredible days, but still…he wanted more.
What if she couldn’t give any more? Would he tell her to go away, it was an all-or-nothing? Did he really want to go back to the nothingness of his prior existence? People walked away all the time, telling themselves they’d be giving up a huge piece of self if they compromised but in the end, the uncompromised individual ended up with a whole piece of nothing. Go figure.
Maybe that was the way his mother felt fourteen years ago when she’d had to choose. What would he do in that situation? Hell, sometimes life was just too damned complicated.
He dozed off and on, his brain filled with images of Christine. She was standing beside the bed, watching him, her dark hair framing her face, her naked body cast in perfect shadow. He reached for her, eager to pull her to him, touch her—
The phone rang, splitting his dream in half. Christ. He grabbed the receiver. “Hullo?”
“Nate?”
“Lily.”
“Today’s the day, Nate.” She giggled into the receiver. “I’m going riding today.”
“What time is it?”
“Seven-oh-two.”
“Lily, it’s seven o’clock in the morning; you aren’t riding until one.”
Silence. “Are you mad at me, Nate?”
“No, honey.” He yawned. “I was just asleep, that’s all.”
“Christine said it was okay to call.”
“Christine’s awake?”
“Uh-huh, since six-thirty.”
He smiled. “What’d you do, wake up the whole neighborhood to tell them you’re going riding today?”
She giggled again. “No, just you and Christine and Mom.”
“Mom doesn’t count; she gets up at five.”
“Yup. When are you coming over?”
“Is Mom making breakfast?”
“Pancakes.”
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
“Okay.”
“Okay. Lily?”
“Huh?”
“Today’s your day, girl; it’s going to be the best one ever.”
Chapter 29
Jenny’s Promise was big and white like one of those horses with a horn in the middle of its head. She wanted to touch her, feel the soft fur under her fingers. Christine had told her not to make any quick moves; horses didn’t like that and they didn’t like it if a person was scared. She said they could tell if somebody was scared from the way they smelled. Lily wasn’t scared, she was excited. Jenny’s Promise was watching her. She smiled, waved at the white horse.
The man said she was next, just five more minutes. She straightened her hat, looked behind her. Mom, Christine, and Nate were right there waiting, too. Mom had the camera ready for when she got on Jenny’s Promise. She was going to take Lily’s picture, and it would be just like the one of Christine and Lady Annabelle.
Happy, happy, happy! She looked up at the sky, smiled. Watch me, Daddy. Watch me ride just like Christine did. Me and Christine, we’re your girls, Daddy.
“Should we go over everything one more time?”
Lily turned to Christine, shook her head. “I’m ready.” She giggled, straightened her hat again. “How do I look?”
“Like a rider,” Nate said. “A real rider.”
“Press your knees against the horse’s belly,” Christine said. “Toes up in the stirrups, remember?”
“Yup. And don’t make any loud noises.”
“That’s right. And what do you do if she starts to go faster than you want her to?”
“Pull back on the reins.”
Christine smiled. “Very good.”
Lily beamed. “What do I do if she takes off for that fence and tries to jump like Lady Annabelle used to?”
“She won’t, and besides Lady Annabelle was trained to jump.”
“But what do I do?”
“Well, if she heads for the fence, you lower your head, grab her neck, and hold on tight.”
“Okay.” Lily smiled, pushed up her glasses. “Maybe we can learn how to jump like you and Lady Annabelle.”
“How about one thing at a time?” Nate said. “Right now, why don’t you get on so Mom can take a picture of you?”
“Okay.”
The trainer, a man everyone called Mr. Lipton, came up to her. “Lily, we’re ready.”
“Okay.” She rubbed her hands together, let out a tiny squeal. “It’s time. I love you, Mom. I love you, Nate. I love you, Christine.”
“We love you, too, sweetheart,” Mo
m said.
She turned to go, remembered one more thing. “Christine, you got my watch, right?”
Her sister held up the gold pocket watch. “Right here, waiting for you.”
Jenny’s Promise was furry, not soft like a bunny, but kind of woolly like the neighbor’s dog, Jasper, in the winter. She thought she’d like to press her face to the animal’s side, feel her coat. Mr. Lipton helped her into the saddle and took hold of the reins.
She was so tall now, taller than Nate! Lily grinned at them, wanting to wave but not wanting to let go of the knob on the saddle. Her mother snapped her picture as she smiled down at them, happy, and excited to finally, finally be on a real horse. Mr. Lipton gave her the rules, but she knew them already, Christine had been teaching her for three days. It was hard to listen, hard to think about anything but riding the beautiful white horse.
“I’ll walk twice around the ring holding the reins, and then I’ll let you try by yourself.” Mr. Lipton patted the horse’s shoulder and they were off, walking and then bumpity-bumping along in what he called a trot. Jenny’s Promise was so big, her ears so pointy. Once, twice around with Lily holding the knob on the saddle, toes pointed up, knees pressed into the horse’s sides. She looked up at the sky, grinned. Are you watching me, Daddy? Can you see me now?
“Okay, Lily.” Mr. Lipton handed her the reins. “Now you go twice around by yourself and I’ll watch. Just remember what we went over. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Good luck. You can do it.”
She eased the horse into the ring, talking to her as they walked. “Isn’t this so much fun, Jenny? What do you think? Huh? I think it’s fun.” They moved along the path, the sun beating down on them. “Do you like the sun, Jenny? Do you get too hot?” She giggled. “Do you ever get a bath?” They made the first round and started on the second. “Does that thing hurt your mouth? I won’t pull too hard, okay? Is that better?” She leaned forward a little, whispered. “You know, my sister, Christine, had a horse that looked like you. Her name was Lady Annabelle and she won ribbons. Lots of them. Did you ever win a ribbon, Jenny? Huh?” She patted a patch of fur. “We could win ribbons, I bet. Me and you. What do you think?” Pat, pat, pat. She glanced at the white fence in front of her. “Maybe if Mr. Lipton saw you jump, he’d let you be my horse and we could win ribbons together. Blue’s first place.” They were almost halfway around; the stretch of field past the white fence was green and soft-looking. “We could win lots of ribbons. Do you want to win a ribbon, Jenny? Do you want to be my horse?”
They could win lots of ribbons just like Christine and Lady Annabelle. They could be just like them. Mr. Lipton just had to see that Jenny could jump.
“Let’s jump, Jenny. Let’s jump!” Lily kicked the animal’s sides hard like she’d seen cowboys do in the movies when they wanted to get their horses to run. Jenny’s Promise let out a yelp and took off, straight for the fence, fast, faster. “Go, girl!” Lily leaned in low, clutched her arms around the horse’s neck, just like Christine had told her to do.
She didn’t hear the screams behind her; there was nothing but the sound of hooves beating against the ground, the feel of the wind on her face, the rhythmic speed of Jenny’s Promise’s body, moving and rising, high, higher, lifting them over the fence in one perfect jump.
We did it! We did it!
Lily’s eyes were squeezed shut, a smile on her face when the horse stumbled and threw her to the ground. Jenny’s Promise recovered, tore across the field, stopping several hundred feet away, where she lowered her head and began grazing. Mr. Lipton was the first to reach Lily, the first to notice the unnatural bend to her leg as she lay face down in the moss-green pasture. He swore under his breath and made the sign of the cross, then knelt down and gently eased her onto her back. Lily’s eyes fluttered open and she whispered, “I did it. Just like Christine.”
***
Harry flipped through a client file and made a few notes. He’d done a little preventative maintenance, that was it. It was Christine’s client but she hadn’t been around much lately, so he’d handled it.
He could see why she liked Magdalena so much. He’d made the trip after Christine called him half-hysterical about the girl. It was just a broken leg; the kid was smiling and digging into a box of cherry cordials when he visited her at the hospital. She even called him Uncle Harry. What the hell, why not?
The instant he looked into Miriam Desantro’s hazel eyes, heard her soft voice, he knew why Charlie had fallen for her. She was a genuine piece of humanity, sincere, gracious, kind of like Greta in a way, and not bad to look at either. The son wasn’t the son of a bitch Harry thought he’d be. Chrissie hardly left his side and he was glued pretty tight to her, too. If Harry’s mother had been shacking up with a married man for fourteen years and had a kid with her, he doubted he’d be rolling out the red carpet when the guy died. Either way, Harry liked the guy. He wasn’t a Connor Pendleton, thank God. Actually, he was quite civilized, quiet, but that was better than running at the mouth all night. Chrissie said he’d had a full beard but shaved it the morning after the girl broke her leg because she’d never liked it, said it was too scratchy.
The knock on the door yanked him from his thoughts. “Come in.”
It was Chrissie, arms loaded with a stack of files. She looked pale, thinner. In the two weeks since they’d been back, he’d hardly seen her; she’d been holed up at home doing paperwork or God knew what or buried in her office. “Hi, Uncle Harry, can I come in?”
“Hey, Chrissie girl. You and the cleaning lady are the only ones brave enough to step foot in here. Come on in.”
She closed the door behind her, set the files on one of the chairs next to his desk, and sat in the other.
“What’s this?” He pointed to the files.
“Client files.” She fidgeted in her chair. “Some things I need to go over with you.”
“Oh?”
“It isn’t working, Uncle Harry. I can’t do this anymore.”
He didn’t have to ask what, he knew. She couldn’t live the life anymore, not since she’d found another one, a real one. “I know.”
“You do?”
“Give me a little credit for having at least a tiny bit of gray matter up here,” he said, pointing to his head. “And I’m not talking about the hair, either.”
“I do give you credit, Uncle Harry. You don’t give yourself enough.”
“You’re probably right, but you didn’t come here to talk about me, did you?”
“No.”
“You’re coming to dump these files on me, hoping that because I’ve been sneaking around helping you out, that maybe now I’ll start taking an interest in the company and handle some of your clients?”
“Well, kind of.”
He held up a hand. “I’m not finished yet. You’re doing all of this so you can clear your conscience and head back to that damn boyfriend of yours.”
“I thought you liked Nate.”
“I do, but that doesn’t mean I want him stealing you away.”
“He isn’t—”
“He already has, that whole damn town has. His mother, him, the girl, even that old geezer, Jack what’s his name, they’re all in love with you.”
She smiled. “Finnegan, Jack Finnegan.”
“Whatever.”
“I have to give something back, Uncle Harry. I’m going to teach the people of Magdalena how to protect their money and make it grow through investment strategies, savings, debt reduction. Maybe I can even help them apply for small business loans, analyze mortgage rates, and things like that.”
“Okay, okay, I get it.”
“Those people need me and I need them.”
“Yeah, I guess.” She was slipping away, he could feel it.
“Nate said he might even consider starting a custom furniture-making business. I could help him with that, get all the financing in order, maybe even make a small investment, if he’d let me. And Miriam and Lily need me. I w
ant to be there for them.”
“Okay, enough. I get the picture.”
“I’ll be back to see you, and you’ll come see me, it’s not that far.”
“Sure.” He twirled his pen between his fingers. “You tell your mother yet?”
“No.”
“Are you planning to or are you going to just let her find out when you don’t show up for Christmas dinner?”
“I don’t know. It’s not something you slip into casual conversation.”
“Are you ever going to forgive her?” Are you ever going to forgive me?
“Some day. I can’t deal with that whole issue right now. Uncle Harry?”
“Hmm?”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too, kiddo.”
“And whether or not you’re my biological father, you did more for me these last months than any father would do for his daughter.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“Thank you, Uncle Harry, for being a father to me when I really needed one.”
He opened his mouth to speak but damn it, he couldn’t get the words out. He coughed, cleared his throat, once, twice. “Charlie—”
“Was a good father, too.” She reached across the desk and squeezed his hand. “I don’t want to know which one of you was my biological father. I’ve been lucky enough to have two fathers in my life and that’s how I want to leave it.”
He nodded. “If I’d known you’d be looking at me like a father, hell, I would have watched my mouth around you.”
She laughed. “If you did, Uncle Harry, you wouldn’t be you.”
“You’ve got a point there.”
“I’ve got something for you.” She reached into her pocket, pulled out a shiny, gold object. It was his father’s pocket watch.
“What the hell, where’d you get that?”
“Lily gave it to me.” She laid it on the desk, eased it toward him. “She said since you were the baby in the family you should have it, at least until she graduates.”
“No.” He gripped the armrests on his chair, pushed himself away. He’d spent half his life hating that damn watch, secretly wishing his father would consider giving it to him, knowing he wouldn’t. “I don’t want it.”
