Shattered Mirror (Eve Duncan #23)(54)

“I don’t know what you mean. How could I?” She touched her shoulder gently. “I hope it’s because you know that we all care about you. And that we won’t let you be alone.”

She nodded jerkily. “Yes, I know that, and I’ve never felt more … it’s very strange and wonderful for me. But that’s not what this is about.” She looked down at the bright blue eyes of the sculpture. “I feel as if she’s coming … closer to me. It’s as if she’s just out of reach but coming closer all the time. Crazy, huh? Sylvie’s dead. You showed me what he did to her. But it doesn’t seem to matter. I can feel her.”

“Not so crazy. Unless you don’t want it to happen.” She was silent a moment. “Did Cara tell you about my daughter, Bonnie, who died when she was only seven?”

“Yes,” she said unevenly. “Not very much, but I wanted to know all about her family, and I kept at her. I can be pretty determined.”

“I’ve noticed. And strong, very strong, Darcy.” She paused. “I wasn’t that strong when I lost Bonnie. She was my whole world, and all I wanted to do was go to her. I was heading down in that direction when she decided to come to me instead.”

Darcy’s gaze flew to her face. “Come to you?”

Eve nodded. “Call it hallucination. Call her a ghost. She started to come to me in dreams; and then the dreams were no longer necessary. I saw her. She visited me, and it was all love.” She added simply, “She saved my life. It’s not what I wanted at the time. I would rather have been with her all the time. But we worked through it together. And then I found Joe and my work, and now I have Michael. Bonnie was right, and I was wrong.”

“You believe she actually came to you?”

“I know she did. But no one else has to believe it.” She smiled. “They can think I’m crazy. Bonnie and I know better.”

“You’re not crazy.”

“Then why doubt yourself? You and Sylvie started off with much more than is usually given to any of us. Don’t you believe that she’d be allowed to still be part of the person she loves the most?”

“Allowed?”

Eve shrugged. “I don’t know how it works. I only know from my own experience that sometimes there’s special dispensation. Or maybe it happens to most people, and they don’t realize what’s happening. I think the best thing to do is just grab it, then give back as much as you can.” She smiled. “And that’s my last bit of advice. I just thought I’d try to save you the months of self-doubts I went through when I started to dream of Bonnie.” She gazed at her inquiringly. “Do you dream of Sylvie?”

“No, not yet. I just feel her.”

“Is it a bad feeling?”

“No.” She thought about it. “It’s kind of … glowing. But different than when … stronger.” She was silent, trying to find a way to make her understand. “I remember when we were both very little, Sylvie loved butterflies. She used to wake me up very early, and take my hand, and we’d run out in the garden when there was dew still on the flowers. She would sit there and watch as the butterflies touched the blossoms. She thought they were sort of like us. She said I was like the very brightest, scarlet butterflies, and she was like the gold-orange and brown Monarchs. She loved them all, but she wondered if we’d ever change, if we could be different. She said brown and orange was pretty, but it would be nice to be a scarlet butterfly, and shine like me sometimes.” She reached out and gently touched Sylvie’s cheek. “It’s sort of like that. Stronger … and brighter … and scarlet.”

“And it makes you happy?”

She smiled. “It makes me happy.”

“You’re sitting in front of my sculpture. Do you feel closer to her here?”

“No.” She frowned. “I don’t think it has anything to do with it. I felt closer to her on the porch, and I just wanted to see if—” She said, “You’re asking me questions you think I should be asking myself, aren’t you?”

“Just getting you started.” She bent and brushed a kiss on the top of Darcy’s head. “Try to go to bed and get some sleep if you can. That’s what I intend to do. But it’s difficult when we keep thinking of how we’re going to get rid of that monster. Everything about that conversation keeps going around and around in my mind.”

Darcy nodded. “Me, too. I was so full of the ugliness that I had to come in and see that she wasn’t really like that. She was still Sylvie.”

“And maybe Sylvie wandered through your mind and helped a little?”

“Maybe.” She looked up at her. “And maybe my friend, Eve, wandered in and helped quite a lot. I know that telling me about your Bonnie wasn’t easy for you. Thank you.”

“It wasn’t that hard. You needed her. And as I said, what’s given, you try to give back.” She was heading across the living room toward the hall. “Good night, Darcy.”

“Eve.”

She looked over her shoulder and saw Darcy sitting there in the strong beam of her work light in front of Sylvie. Both beautiful, both glowing with vitality, the same, and yet not the same. Darcy’s face was changing, gaining in maturity, and Sylvie’s face that should have seemed frozen in time, appeared to be subtly changing, too. A trick of the light? Blooming …