A Thousand Letters(9)

The toddler hummed tunelessly as I dressed her, and then we climbed in bed with a book while Sammy brushed his teeth. And when we were all finished with Olivia, I tucked her in and turned down the lights, clicking on her nightlight that threw stars all over the ceiling. I sang her a soft song, and she gave me a hug, and when she told me she loved me, my heart ached.

Guilt sprang in my chest — I'd forgotten for a moment what the day had held, the sadness crushing me in a wave. But I caught my breath as I walked into Sammy's room to find him bouncing on his bed with a Pete the Cat book. His room was like Maven's, but all shades of blue and dark wood, with a captain's bed and a nautical theme that had skewed in the pirate direction over the course of the last year. He leaned against me as we read, though he knew all the words and recited them with me. And when all was done, I said goodnight with a wave and a kiss on the cheek before making my way wearily down the stairs.

Mary sat in the living room on her phone, long legs crossed, wine glass in hand. People always said we looked alike, but I didn't see it. Mary was all sharp edges; even her dark eyes, the one part of her I did see myself in, held a hardness to them that I'd never understood.

"Everything go okay?" she asked, not looking up from the screen.

"Just fine. They're all off to dreamland."

She sighed. "Good. I hope they don't come out a thousand times."

I tried to smile, but I found it hard to pretend. "Well, I'm heading downstairs for the night."

Mary looked up to meet my eyes. "Oh, I didn't even ask you how Rick is."

This was her way of asking. "He's …" I swallowed. "He's okay. I read to him while Sophie and W-wade had a meeting with the social worker." His name hitched in my throat, catching, snagged by my heart.

"Wade's here?" she asked, one dark brow climbing.

I nodded. "He flew in from Germany tonight."

"Huh. Great place to be stationed. Have you even seen him since he left?"

"No," I answered quietly.

Compassion passed across her face and was gone. "I'm sorry. Was it hard?"

I took a breath. "It was."

"Is he just as handsome as he was?"

"More. He's … he's a man now. I barely recognized him."

She shook her head. "Well, he's really done well for himself in the military. I hate that he's back under such awful circumstances. Poor Rick. Those poor girls."

I found it so strange that she approved now when seven years ago she was so quick to judge, so quick to steer me away from him. Another attempt at a smile had me wanting to leave. "Okay, well … if that's all, I'd really like to lie down."

"Of course," she said with a wave of her hand.

I started to walk away but stopped, turning back to her when I remembered something. "Oh, I'm sorry, one more thing."

She was already back on her phone. "Mmhmm?"

I clasped my hands behind my back, pulse speeding up at the prospect of her saying no. "The next few weeks are going to be … well, they're going to be a lot for the Winters family. Sophie's asked me to help out, and I'd like to do what I can. Do you … do you think it would be possible to put the kids in full-time school for a while?"

Mary looked up at me, frowning. "That will cost a fortune, Elliot. I don't even know if the school has space."

My cheeks flushed. "I know, I just thought—"

"I mean, I can ask them, if you want to pay for it with your money. And if they have room, I guess that would be fine. But I still need you to pick them up every day."

I blinked, simultaneously surprised at her solution and not surprised at all. "O-of course," I said, not thinking twice about doing it. I only had a few weeks left with Rick, and I wanted to be there as much as I could, whatever the cost, regardless of the slight.

She looked back at her screen, thumb scrolling. "Unless Charlie will help out, but I doubt it. You know how busy he is."

I pursed my lips and nodded. "All right."

"'Night, Elliot. Get some rest."

"'Night," I echoed and descended the stairs to the bottom floor, then into my room where I closed the door behind me with a snick.

I loved the room, loved the creaky floorboards and the dark wood wainscot, loved the old brick fireplace and elaborate mantle. The house had been built in 1910 and remodeled, but they'd left so many of the original fixtures that it still held the charm it had always had.

Mary's words and the stress of the day didn't ebb as I made my way through my room putting my things away, changing into more comfortable clothes, finding myself on my bed, notebook in my lap, pencil flying as I poured my heart onto the page, thinking of everything and nothing, possessed by my emotions.

My family and my responsibilities at home, my sister … today I felt stifled and trapped, but it was less about them, I knew.

It was Rick lying in a hospital bed. It was Sophie crying in my arms. It was Wade standing before me, a man I didn't recognize, though I knew him all the same.

Wade.

He was home, appearing at the edge of my universe after what felt like a thousand years without him. Changed was the word that circled my thoughts. Hardened, colder. The boy I knew was gone.

No, not gone — he was there, somewhere. But I couldn't see him; I could only see what he'd become. I wondered how much of what he was now was due to me.