Darling Girl: A Novel of Peter Pan(58)

She gets out of the car and crosses over to the field. Nan is sitting alone on the sidelines. She’s spread out a blanket and arranged what looks like a small feast: oranges, cheese, crackers, and bottles of water. When she sees Holly, she visibly flinches.

“Hi,” Holly says. “Mind if I sit down?”

“Suit yourself,” Nan says. But she moves over slightly.

“Which one is your brother?” Holly asks. It’s hard to tell with the helmets. Nan points without comment. Ed is taller and broader than Jack, but he doesn’t have Jack’s speed or agility. Still, Holly tries to be generous. “Nice shot,” she says when he tries to score from the left side of the crease.

“He loves it,” Nan says. “Your son does too.”

Holly is quiet for a moment. She’s going to need allies with Jack; she can see that. He’s pulling away from her, more and more every day, his face eagerly turned toward a future that doesn’t include her. Rationally, she knows this was bound to happen, that to some degree it’s normal, even good, but still it leaves her stunned that hormones and adolescence can separate her from this child she’s built her life around. Stunned, and a little hurt. “I’m sorry about this morning,” she says finally. “I was upset and worried. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

“It’s all right,” Nan says. “Jack told my brother you had another son, a twin to Jack, and he died?”

A frisson of surprise sparks through Holly. She and Jack never talk about Isaac or Robert with strangers. She turns her head to look at Nan, who is silhouetted against the sky, and the undercurrent of loss that always rests below her surface widens, becomes fresh and overpowering, until suddenly she’s falling into it, drowning in a sea of blue the exact shade of Eden’s eyes. She misses her daughter so fiercely she can’t breathe. She imagines walking this lacrosse field with a teenage Eden, their shoulders bumping, their faces close together as they share secrets and wait for Jack to finish. Eden’s smile at the end of the game. Her voice at the dinner table.

“Dr. Darling?” Nan’s face is concerned.

“Yes,” Holly manages. “That’s right.”

“I can see how that might make someone protective,” Nan says. She pauses, as if weighing what to say. “Our mother died as well. A few years ago. Maybe the boys are good for each other.”

“Maybe.” Holly’s gotten her breathing under control. She wonders what, if anything, Jack let slip about Eden today. And then she realizes what Nan has said. The girl can’t be much more than twenty-one herself. “I’m sorry. Truly.”

“Yeah, well . . .” Nan looks away, at the field. “Me too.”

A player runs down the field near them and Nan cups her hands to her mouth. “Go, Ed! Move your blooming feet!” Ed bodychecks the ball carrier on the other team, knocking the ball to the ground. Jack swoops in to scoop it up, and Ed waggles his stick at his sister, who is still shouting at him, before the play moves to the other end of the field.

“He’s not the fastest, but he recovers the ball more than almost anybody,” Nan says proudly.

“He certainly got the height gene in your family,” Holly observes. Nan’s lucky if she comes up to Ed’s shoulders.

Nan laughs. “Different fathers. Ed takes after his dad, height-wise. Got his good looks too. And his charm.” She doesn’t sound as pleased with that last bit. “Even before our mum died, I practically raised him. She was always working and Ed’s dad . . . he’s a bit of a tosser. Comes around when it suits him. He’s got a short attention span, that one, and he’s not the greatest influence in the world, you know? When he’s here, he puts a spell on Ed. But Mum always did have crap taste in men.” She picks at a corner of the blanket. “I used to worry Ed would take after him, but Mum used to say Ed was born sweet, he grew sweet, and he’d die sweet, and nothing would change that. I think that’s true.” She looks out on the field toward her brother. “So far, anyways.”

“Well, it’s clear you’ve taken excellent care of him.” The boy radiates good health. Even from here, Holly can see how his skin glows.

“Thanks.” Nan shrugs. “Somebody had to make sure Ed got fed and got his homework done. Turned out to be me.”

“Impressive,” Holly says, and it is. Nan’s raised a healthy teenager who acknowledges her in public. That puts her ahead of most parents—including Holly. The image of Eden returns, only this time her face is closed off, and she’s stalking ten paces ahead as they walk. Holly closes her eyes.



* * *





When the scrimmage is over, there’s fist-bumping and a little friendly shoving between the two sides. Jack and Ed bang shoulders, grinning. They sling their sticks over their shoulders, grab their helmets, and head toward Nan. But when Jack sees Holly, his smile disappears.

“Jack,” she says, but he walks past her without a word. Ed, brown eyes wide, gives an apologetic shrug to Nan.

“Hey, Dr. Darling,” he says, then grabs an orange and hurries after Jack.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Nan says. She bends to pick up the blanket. “Maybe give him some space.”

Holly bites back a reply. She should be grateful, but she isn’t. Still, she swallows her pride, smiles, and thanks her.