Darling Girl: A Novel of Peter Pan(107)

When the birds come, they’re no longer black, no longer starlings. They’re doves. They swirl through the room on their white wings, and it looks for an instant like a blizzard of snow, so blinding Holly has to close her eyes.

When she opens them, they’re gone. Only the photo of Eden remains, discarded on the floor.





Chapter Forty-Four



Holly sits on a bench in Hyde Park under a very tall, very ancient chestnut tree. She’s been waiting for what feels like a long time, but she knows that’s her nerves. She left the house early so she could walk here, so she could think, and she still has no idea what she wants to say.

The tree’s leaves are turning, brilliant reds and golds that fall gently from the sky, that strew the path below and crunch underfoot. The air is chilly, reminiscent of fall in New York, and she’s grateful for the blue cashmere wrap she unearthed from Jane’s closet this morning. Light and elegant, it still manages a comforting warmth, as if embodying Jane herself. The blue is the color of the sky, of her mother’s eyes, of her daughter’s, and Holly wraps it about her as if they are holding her in their arms.

Next to her, Jack shifts restlessly, looking at his phone. When she glances over at him, the top of his head seems unexpectedly far away. She swears he’s grown in the last few weeks, although he won’t let her measure him. He catches her gaze and guiltily slides his phone into his pocket.

“Go,” she says. “I’m fine.”

“I can wait. It’s just practice.”

“Go,” she says again. “If you want to make the team, you need to put in the time. You’re going to have to show them what you can do, take some risks.”

He gives her a long look, as if he knows how difficult that speech was for her to make. “You too.”

She smiles, resists the urge to tousle his hair. “Scram.”

She doesn’t have to tell him again. In one graceful movement, he bounds to his feet and retrieves his stick and helmet from behind the bench. He hesitates for just a second, then squeezes her shoulder gently, a touch so light she’s not sure she actually feels it.

“Good luck,” he says.

Holly doesn’t say, Be careful. She doesn’t say, Go easy. “Have fun,” she tells him instead. “See you at dinner.” She watches him walk away, follows him with her eyes until the path turns and he’s lost from view.

And then she turns her attention to searching the park for a different figure.



* * *





At last she spots him. There’s no one else it could be, really: that long, graceful stride, that muscled frame, the hint of menace that makes others on the path give him a wide berth.

She rises from the bench and descends the hill to meet him. As he gets closer, she frowns. What is that beneath his arm? And then her eyes widen in recognition and surprise.

“Hello,” he says. “You look well.” He scrutinizes her. “Lighter somehow.” It’s such a Christopher thing to say, with no mention of the bundle that he carries, that she laughs.

“I feel lighter,” she agrees. “You want to walk?”

“Let’s sit for a minute. That okay with you?” At her nod, he positions himself on the bench, long legs stretched out, bundle settled firmly on his lap. The October sun makes a momentary appearance, and he turns his face upward, closing his eyes.

Surreptitiously, she studies him. She hasn’t seen him since that night, months ago, when Eden and her mother left. He looks different, more relaxed, as if that tight coil at his center has unwound a bit. The shadows under his eyes are gone. Even his scar seems faded.

“How’s Jack?” Christopher asks, eyes still closed. She doesn’t mind. It makes him easier to talk to somehow. She shrugs, then catches herself.

“Physically, he’s fine,” she says, discreetly knocking the bench with her knuckles. She’ll never, ever take her son’s good health for granted. “No relapses. Not since . . . that night. Mentally . . . he’s seeing a really good therapist. He has a lot to deal with. Not just Ed. It’s not easy. But she’s given him the green light to start school, so he’s enrolled in a day school not far from the house. He seems to really like it. And he’s trying out for their lacrosse team. Captain’s practice starts today.”

“So you won’t be going back to New York?”

Is it her imagination, or does his breathing subtly quicken? She’s not sure. She pulls her eyes away, gazes out over the park. Her own breath is coming more quickly, and she tries to slow it before she responds.

“Doesn’t look like it,” she says lightly. “We sold the company, Barry and I—it was the right decision.” Barry, it turned out, still knows her better than she knows herself. Lauren Lander had been happy to purchase it, so long as Holly promised to make a handful of annual appearances at trade events. “I’ll need to go back to sell the apartment at some point, but there’s no rush. I’ve offered it to Nan to use for a bit, if she likes. I’m hoping she’ll consider it when . . . when more time has passed.”

He nods, eyes still closed. “She’s still staying with you then?”

“The house is so big, it just makes sense,” Holly says. “And it’s good for her to have Jack, I think. Good for him too. I’ve told her she’s welcome to stay as long as she likes.” Holly may never be able to assuage her guilt at Ed’s death, but she’ll spend the rest of her days trying.