Shattered Mirror (Eve Duncan #23)(31)

“That drawer beside you.” He was already at the refrigerator. “Let’s sit on the couch in the living room. It will be better in there.”

“Whatever you say. Though I thought maybe the porch?”

“Not this morning.” His luminous smile lit his face. “Okay?”

She had an idea that women were going to say okay to this heartbreaker for the rest of his life. “I was thinking your mother might not like us to risk the mess.”

“No mess. We’ll be careful.” He was carrying his bowl into the living room. “Come on. It’s better…”

“Whatever.” She found herself settling herself on the couch and dipping her spoon into the cereal. “How did you know what my name was, Michael?”

“My dad told me when he took me to Burger King last night. He said not to bother you because you were sad and needed some time.” He put down his bowl and spoon on the coffee table. “But I knew you needed to have breakfast.”

“It was nice of you to think of me.” She added dryly, “At five in the morning.”

“It had to be early.” He was moving across the living room toward Eve’s worktable. “She’s beautiful with the sun touching her. I wanted you to see her.”

She went rigid as she saw the little boy reaching across the pedestal toward the reconstruction. “I don’t think your mother would like you to touch—”

Too late. He’d pulled the black velvet cloth from the reconstruction and tossed it on the pedestal. He turned and ran back to the couch. “See. The sunlight comes in that window and it makes her…” He started to eat his cereal. “You know.”

Yes, she knew. Darcy stared, breathless. The diffused glow of light was forming an aureole around Sylvie’s head, highlighting every feature and making the skin appear to be illuminated from within. She had never seen Sylvie look more beautiful or more sharply defined and full of vitality. This wasn’t the look of the dreamer or the butterfly Darcy had known through the years. This was … different.

“Your cornflakes are getting soggy,” Michael said.

The pragmatic statement made her jerk her gaze away from Sylvie to Michael. His expression seemed sober, but was there the faintest hint of mischief in his face? Six years old. It had to be imagination. “How did you know that she’d look like this, Michael?”

“I came out early sometimes when Mama was working on her. She didn’t look this good all the time, until Mama fixed her, but I liked looking at her anyway. And I think she liked me being here. But she’ll like your company better.”

“Because we’re twins?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because she’ll like you knowing how good she’s been fixed.”

“By your mother?” Darcy nodded. “She’s certainly done a wonderful job.”

He nodded. “Yeah. I told Mama the inside was already fixed, so all she had to do was the outside. But she matched it really good, didn’t she? Anyway, I thought that you’d like to have breakfast with Sylvie. And maybe she’d like it, too.” He scooted back on the couch and took another bite of cereal. “Was I right?”

It was totally bizarre sitting here on this couch with this strange, endearing child who took it for granted that she’d want to get up at the crack of dawn to have breakfast with a skull named Sylvie. Who spoke not of murder but of fixing, healing, and how Sylvie would want her to know that healing had taken place. It had not even occurred to him that there could be darkness, not sunlight, in what he’d shown her.

Because there wasn’t any darkness.

“You were absolutely right, Michael.” Darcy sat back and ate her cereal, completely comfortable to be here with the sun shining brilliantly on Sylvie. For some reason, it seemed to be the right place to be at the right time. “Now tell me what you’re doing at school. And then I’ll tell you what a fantastic star I’m going to be someday. Not as big as your Cara, but then she’s really one of those once-in-a-lifetime talents, and I’ve only got a terrific voice and star quality. But that will be enough, don’t you—”

*

“Michael, what have you been doing?” Eve stood in the doorway with her hands on her hips and trying to look stern. It wasn’t working. She was too relieved to see that Darcy was no longer the broken woman she’d been the afternoon before. She was still pale, but she appeared subdued but normal. “I’m sorry, did he wake you, Darcy? How long have you been up?”

“Only a couple hours.” Darcy smiled at Michael. “We were just getting to know each other. Only somehow it ended up with me talking entirely too much about myself…” Her eyes went to the reconstruction across the room. “And Sylvie.”

And nothing was healthier, Eve thought. Bless Michael. “I’m sure my son slipped in quite a lot about himself.” She looked at the empty cereal bowls. “I see you’ve had a light breakfast. Would you care to have something more substantial? Joe is going to take Michael to karate practice this morning, and he probably shouldn’t eat too—”

“Karate,” Darcy repeated. She made the connection. “Gary.”

Eve chuckled. “Well, evidently you didn’t completely monopolize the conversation, Darcy.” Eve turned to Michael. “Go take your shower and wake up Cara, Michael. She told me she wanted to go with you. She said she might need to pick up a few moves herself.”