Need You for Always (Heroes of St. Helena)(9)
“Want to explain how glitter wound up in Brooklyn’s eyes when you were banned from bringing glitter to school?”
“Fairy dust,” Violet corrected while toeing at the ground with her pink Converse. “And Lillianna Starlight gave me some this morning.”
“Imagine that.” Emerson looked Lillianna Starlight right in the eyes—and he had the decency to look ashamed. “I didn’t know you still talked to Lillianna.”
Chocolate-colored pigtails bobbed. “I sent her a message through fairy mail yesterday and told her how Brooklyn told the whole class that fairies weren’t real. Then this morning a letter was under my pillow that said all nonbelievers needed was a little love and a lot of fairy dust.”
Eyes never leaving Lillianna’s, Emerson piled some lamb into a pita and rolled it up. “Take this and go wait over there while I talk to Dad.”
Violet looked from the gyro to Dad and back to Emerson. “What about my baklava?”
“You’re lucky it isn’t tabbouleh. Now go, before I change my mind.”
Horrified at the thought of being forced to eat something green, she hustled her little fairy butt over to the bench and sat down, wings flapping in the breeze.
“Not you.” Emerson caught Lillianna by the cuff of his shirt. “I thought you had an interview today at Bella Vineyards.”
Roger shifted back on his feet. “It was for a delivery manager, which means I’d miss breakfast and seeing her off to school.”
“The last job offer was a nine-to-five, and you passed because you’d miss picking her up from school. If you’re not careful, you’ll end up passing on your whole future, Dad.” The once sought-after vineyard manager had found a logical, rational, mature-sounding reason to pass on every opportunity that came his way. When in truth Emerson knew that going back to work meant finally letting go, admitting they’d lost the battle, the fight, and the most important person in all of their lives.
“Plus I’d miss twilight walks with Pixie,” he said quietly, and Emerson sighed. The soul-deep kind of sigh that started in her toes and moved its way out through her heart. Her dad was so busy making sure he took the right steps in moving forward, he was stuck in the same place he’d been the day his soul mate died. And he’d kept Violet right there with him.
“Violet,” she gently corrected. “And I thought we were done with this.”
“We were,” Roger said, running a hand though his hair. “Then that Brooklyn girl started giving Violet a hard time.”
“Because she wears wings to school, only answers to Pixie, and talks to daisies and grass blades at recess,” Emerson said with a quiet intensity to ensure Roger finally got it. “The only thing worse for a first grader would be a ‘Kick me, I’m socially inept’ sign on her back.”
Roger winced. “I thought about throwing those damn wings out when she was sleeping, but then I remembered your mom made them for her that last Halloween.” He shrugged helplessly, looking as lost as he had the day the real Lillianna had died. “I figured, what could it hurt?”
Emerson felt her throat tighten. “A lot, Dad. She can’t mourn someone she is convinced lives under a toadstool. And it isn’t healthy for her to only socialize with imaginary friends.”
“She socializes with me.”
Which was the equivalent of hanging with Peter Pan. And they both knew it.
Violet had been an unexpected miracle baby, and her parents had embraced that every day of Violet’s little life. When her mom’s ALS had taken a fatal turn, Lillianna had been determined to make every day she had left with her girls magical. And she had, sharing every family recipe with Emerson, taking Violet on backyard fairy hunts at twilight, making sure that when she was gone her daughters would have a lifetime full of happy memories to combat the heart-wrenching ones.
After her death, Roger had taken on the responsibility of Violet’s happiness. Leaving every other responsibility to Emerson. Not that she would change it for the world. Emerson loved taking care of her family, knew that she was the only thing keeping them from falling completely off the grid. And she wanted Violet to experience some of what she’d had as a child, but sometimes being the only realistic one in a family of dreamers made things difficult.
Take Lillianna Starlight, for example, the fairy who slept under daisy petals and traveled by shooting stars. Emerson wanted Violet to remember their mom, remember their walks and the love she had for make-believe and magic. Unlike her father, though, Emerson worried that the make-believe was holding Violet back. Keeping her from moving on.
Her heart a little heavier than it had been moments ago, Emerson made up one of her mom’s famous lamb gyros with extra tzatziki, just the way Roger liked it, then packed up two pieces of baklava to go. “At least stop giving her things she can assault her classmates with.”
He took the bag and smiled. “Will do.”
The Sterno didn’t last as long as Emerson had anticipated. Neither did her lamb, since she was only two hours into the lunch shift and nearly sold out. At this rate she’d have her food truck by the end of next month, a thought that had her smiling as she greeted the next customer in line.
“What can I get you?”
Mrs. Larson, the refurbish part of St. Helena Hardware and Refurbish Rescue, looked at the nearly empty dessert tin and frowned. “Two wraps, and please don’t tell me you’re out of baklava. I’m having an old pipe organ from a condemned church in Colusa delivered today and I was hoping to put Walt in a sugar coma for a few hours while I had it moved to the back warehouse. One look at the size of those pipes and he’ll start sputtering up a storm.”