“No. Zeus loves all living creatures. Even mice.”
She reached into her canvas backpack and withdrew her Chihuahua, wrapped in a blanket and wearing a plaid sweater. She presented the bundle to Zeus, who began licking Teeny’s head with great excitement. Teeny wagged her little tail and smiled, and they were in love. Ophelia put the dog down, and Teeny trotted around the house, Zeus following like a gracious host.
“How about some cocoa?” I asked as I turned on lights. She didn’t have gloves on.
“Sure. Your house is way cool.”
“Make yourself at home. Why don’t you change, sweetie . . . your pants are soaked through. I’ve got some sweats or scrubs that would fit you. Do you need a hot shower?”
“No, I’m good. The dry clothes will be great, though.”
“Right in there,” I said, pointing to my bedroom. “Wear whatever you want. Nice warm socks in the top drawer. I’ll start the cocoa, so come down when you’ve changed.”
How had she gotten here? How had she found my place? Well, that was easy enough . . . the town hall website had everyone’s address, if she was savvy enough to figure that out (which she probably was). Plus, she lived with Brad, who may have told her where he used to live. Maybe Dylan told her at Christmas.
I got out the milk and cream and heated them up, then added the Danish chocolate Dylan had given me for Christmas. Stirred in some sugar and vanilla and inhaled the comforting smell of cocoa. As I was pouring the hot chocolate into heavy mugs, Ophelia came down, dressed in a pair of flannel pajama bottoms and an oversized sweatshirt that read “Helltown, Massachusetts, established 1620.”
“Where’s Helltown?” she asked.
“It’s the nickname for Provincetown,” I said. “Because of the carousing and gambling and drinking and fun. The Puritans didn’t like it.” I put some buttery scones on a plate.
“So it was always the coolest place on the Cape, then?”
I smiled. “You got it.”
We sat across from each other at the table. She took a sip of cocoa. “Oh, wow, this is so good! It’s like drinking a melted chocolate bar.”
“Thanks.” I sipped my own, waited till she ate a scone, and then lifted my eyebrows, inviting her to speak.
“Right,” she said, dropping her eyes to her plate. “Well, I guess I technically ran away from home.”
“Okay. I’m gonna need to call your mother. Melissa, I mean.”
“Do you have to?”
“I’m afraid so.” I glanced out at the darkness, the heavy snow illuminated by the back door light. “I think you’ll have to sleep over, though. I barely made it down the road.”
“That would be awesome.” She pulled out her phone and showed me Melissa’s number. “My battery’s way low.” I plugged in Ophelia’s phone, then called Melissa on mine, putting her on speaker so Ophelia could hear.
“Hello? Phee? Is that you?” Her voice was high-pitched and terrified.
“Melissa, it’s Lillie Silva,” I said. “Ophelia is here at my house, safe and sound.”
“Oh, thank God! She’s safe. She’s safe and at Lillie’s!” she called to someone. Brad, probably. “What’s she doing there? We had no idea where she went! This weather is awful. Did she walk? She didn’t hitchhike, did she?”
Melissa was, what . . . seven months pregnant? A little more? “She’s fine, so take a breath, okay?” I said in my kindly midwife voice. “We don’t need you to get too upset, though I understand how worrying this has been. Kids, right?” I winked at Ophelia.
“I can’t believe she . . .” Melissa was crying.
“She walked here. She’s fine . . . she’s drinking cocoa right now, but the roads are pretty bad, so I think she should stay overnight. Is that okay with you?”
“Yes. Yes, that’s fine. Um . . . I could come get her.”
“I live on a dirt road. No plowing. You probably need to rest and drink a lot of water, have a good meal, Melissa. Ophelia is welcome here. I’ll make her dinner, and she can sleep in the guest room. I’ll bring her home tomorrow on my way to work.”
“How do you even know her? How does she know you?”
“We’ve run into each other here and there,” I said, opting not to mention my foray under Bralissa’s bed. “And of course, she’s Dylan’s stepsister.”
“Right. Right.” She sounded calmer now. “Are you sure this is okay? We could have the police come and get her.”
“No, let’s not make this a bigger drama than it is already.”
“Good idea. You’re—”
Suddenly, her voice was replaced with Brad’s. “What did you do, Lillie? What did you say to our daughter so that she felt she could run away to your house? Are you trying to ruin my life? I understand that you’re vengeful and filled with hate and anger, but this is—”
I hung up. “Think about calling Melissa in a little while. She was really worried.”
“Yeah, I could tell. The thing is, my real mom is over there, and she wants to take me back to Ohio, and they were yelling at each other and I just didn’t want to deal with it. So I found your address and came over. You said to call if I wanted to talk.”
“But you didn’t call, did you?”
She looked down again. “I was afraid you’d say no, but I figured you’d let me stay here if I just showed up.”
“Smart girl.” I paused. “How is it, seeing your mother again?” I asked.
She shrugged. “Great, I guess. I mean, I do love her.” She broke a scone in half and didn’t say more. The furnace kicked on, humming companionably.
“Well, I just ate, but I’m gonna feed you. You’ve had dessert . . . how about some dinner?”
“Sure. Thanks.”
I made her what I’d always made Dylan when he was blue—tomato soup and grilled cheese. The bread was sourdough; I used four kinds of cheese, whipped up the tomato soup using canned tomatoes and cream, and set it all in front of Ophelia. She fell upon it like a starving coyote.
“This is amazing,” she said around a bite of the gooey cheese sandwich. “I can’t believe you did this in, like, twenty minutes.”
“It’s a gift,” I said. I tidied up while she ate. It was awfully nice to have a kid back in my house. Someone to take care of.
When she was finished, she very politely brought her dishes to the counter and set them in the sink.
“Let’s go upstairs and make a fire,” I said. “Perfect night for it.”
“I love your house,” she said, trailing after me. “It’s so . . . funky, you know? Like this chimney up to the balcony? Wicked.”
“Thanks. It was my grandparents’ house, and then my dad’s. I grew up here.”
“Seriously? You lived here all your life?”
“Yep. Except for college, that is.”
“Didn’t you ever want to live anywhere else?”
I paused. “Not really. I mean, I like traveling, but I love the Cape.” I paused. “Do you?”
“Sort of. I mean, our house isn’t as cozy as yours. It echoes. My room is, like, super fussy, because Melissa decorated it more for Instagram than for me. We have to eat at the dining room table every night, and Brad makes us say grace first.”
I snorted. “Really.”
“Yeah. We go to church now. We didn’t have to in New York.”
Brad in church. That was rich. He had to be forced to attend when he’d been married to me, and he’d only go for the big holidays.
“Anyway, your mother is visiting. That must be . . .”
“It’s great.” She didn’t sound convinced. “I mean . . . I barely saw her growing up. Back in Ohio, I mean. My bio-dad’s parents took care of me, and Mom . . . she’s got a drug problem, and a crime problem, and money problems, so . . .” She sighed and pushed back her tangled blond curls. “So anyway, my gran had a stroke, and Mom was heading for jail again, so she called Melissa and asked if I could live with her. And Melissa came out and got me and changed my name and put me in all these classes in New York and paraded me around like her charity project, which I guess I was.” She slurped her soup. “But it was . . . it was okay, because I mean, I did have a nice place to live, and there was always enough food, and I didn’t have to wear hand-me-downs or shop at Goodwill or eat Hamburger Helper.”