On Second Thought(83)

Jonathan gave me a terse nod, then went back in the room.

The sun was still high over the Hudson. The Village of the Damned had beautiful grounds with wide, smooth paths and lovely landscaping, but no playground. They should think about that...a playground would give the grands and great-grands something to do when they visited.

“Let’s make fairy houses,” I said.

“What are fairy houses?” the little one asked.

“You make a house for a fairy, and sometimes they leave you a little treat,” I said.

“Fairies aren’t real,” said Emily. Her father’s girl, clearly.

“I don’t know about that,” I said. “I’ve heard they’re getting braver, since so many people believe in them these days. Come on, let’s make them a house and maybe they’ll visit. I’ll show you.”

We went to the edge of the grounds, in sight of the front door so Jonathan could see us when he came out. “The first thing you have to do is find a place that’s a little bit hidden, because they’re shy.”

“How about here?” the little one said, pointing under a rhododendron bush.

“Perfect,” I said. “We need to find some sticks and maybe some moss and a few leaves.”

“And pebbles?”

“And pebbles. Great idea.”

“What’s your name again?” asked Emily.

“Ainsley. And you’re Emily, and you’re Lydia, and I know this because your daddy has a picture of you in his office.”

“I hate visiting Grandpa,” Lydia said. “He smells funny.”

“He yells at Daddy, and I hate him,” Emily added. Her eyes filled with tears.

My heart tugged, and I slid my arm around her. “Sometimes when people get old, they’re confused and scared.”

She dashed the tears away. “That’s what Daddy says, but I don’t care.”

“Daddy says it’s nice for us to come see him,” Lydia said, “but mostly he doesn’t know who we are.” She held up a stick for my inspection. “Will this work?”

“Let’s see.” I sat down on the grass and started making a little structure, digging the sticks into the soft ground, making a lean-to. “How about that moss for a roof?” I suggested. “And maybe some flower blossoms to make it pretty.” Emily carefully placed the moss on top, and Lydia got some flowers.

“It’s pretty,” Emily said. “Even if fairies won’t come.”

Aha. Progress. A few minutes ago, she didn’t believe in them at all; now they were a possibility. I smiled at her, earning a small, shy smile back.

The girls got into it, making a little path of stones to the structure, chatting away about what the fairies would like, asking me if I ever got any presents. I’d have to make sure to come back here and leave a little something (just in case the fairies didn’t come through).

The girls were getting pleasingly grubby, the knees on their tights stained with dirt. Sign of a happy childhood, I always thought. Candy always liked us clean; childhood baths from her were scrub downs, rather than the bubble baths I started taking the second I had a place of my own.

Well. A place with Eric.

But I did love baths, more than ever now that I was living with Kate.

Not once had she suggested I look for my own place. Not once had she given the vibe that she found me irritating or too chatty. She didn’t complain about Ollie, even when he’d barfed up some grass on the rug.

I felt a rush of love for my sister. Pulled out my phone and took a picture of the fairy house, then texted it to her. Playing with two little girls and thinking of you. Glad you’re my sissy. xoxox.

I hoped she wouldn’t think it was dumb.

A second later, my phone buzzed. You’re so sweet, Ains. Thank you. Same here!

It was bittersweet that grief had made us closer.

Jonathan was taking longer than I expected. It occurred to me I didn’t know where he lived. A sterile condo would be my guess. “Are you staying at Daddy’s place tonight?” I asked.

“No. Mommy’s and Uncle Matt’s. We live half with them and half with Daddy,” Emily said.

“Yes, he told me.” How icky, making the girls call him uncle!

“Daddy hates Uncle Matt,” Lydia said innocently.

“Lydia! Don’t talk about it,” said Emily, shooting me a worried glance.

“Why?” she said. “Annie’s nice.” She ripped up some grass from the perfect lawn to scatter around the fairy house.

“Ainsley,” I corrected. “I think you’re nice, too, both of you. But don’t worry, Emily. I won’t say anything.” I ripped up some grass, too. Nothing but the best for the fairies.

“What have you got there?” came Jonathan’s voice, and I jumped a little. I hadn’t heard him coming. He stood behind us, hands in his pockets, tie off, jacket missing, his shirt unbuttoned at the neck.

“Ashley taught us to make fairy houses and the fairies might come back and give us presents!” Lydia said, yanking his hand. “Look, Daddy, look!”

Jonathan hunkered down and studied our work. “I like the little path,” he said. “And the roof will keep them nice and dry if it rains.”

I felt an odd pressure in my chest. An odd, lovely pressure.