Michelle wiggled forward in her seat, intrigued. “How so?”
“Well, you were very verbal very early, and you used to keep up this steady stream of chatter about everything you were doing,” Caroline said, warming to her subject, her mind suddenly flooded with memories. “I remember one time, you were maybe eighteen months old, and you tripped over something, and you said, ‘Oh, I fell down.’ And then you said, ‘It’s all right. I get up.’ It was like you were narrating your life.” She paused, watching the scene play out in her mind. “And there was this one afternoon I took you to the movies. You were maybe two and a half. I think it was Clash of the Titans, some movie like that, and there were maybe half a dozen other people in the audience and you talked the whole way through the picture, this little voice like chipped glass, describing everything that was happening on the screen. Oh, look, Mommy. Andromeda’s taking a bath. She’s getting out of the bath. She’s walking to the door. She’s opening the door. On and on. And when the movie was over, we were in the washroom and this woman was at the mirror and I apologized if your voice-over had disturbed her, and she smiled and said, ‘It’s okay. She was very informative.’?”
This time Michelle threw her head back and laughed.
“And one time your father got a new car and I was terrified to drive it because you know how he is about his cars.”
Michelle nodded.
“But one day I was driving and you were in your car seat and I had to back into this parking space and I was a nervous wreck. It must have taken me ten minutes to park the damn thing. I was going back and forth and back and forth, trying to squeeze into the damn space, and I was covered in perspiration, absolutely soaking wet by the time I finally managed it, and from the backseat came this little voice—‘Good job, Mommy!’ And it made my day. It really did.” She shook her head. “God, I haven’t thought about these things in…”
“Fifteen years?”
Caroline got up from her seat and poured herself another cup of coffee. Michelle was right. Her memories of Samantha had been so all-consuming, they’d all but erased her memories of Michelle’s early childhood. “You want some more?”
“Sure.”
Caroline filled her daughter’s mug and returned to the table, her conscience getting the best of her. “Listen. There’s something I have to tell you.”
“Oh, dear. It’s never good when sentences begin that way.”
“I overheard you last night, talking to Lili.”
“You overheard?”
“I didn’t mean to.” Caroline stopped. “No, that’s not true. I saw Lili go into your room and I deliberately listened in.”
“You’re telling me you eavesdropped?”
“Yes.”
“That’s such a funny expression—‘eavesdropped.’ Wonder where it came from.”
“You don’t sound too upset.”
Michelle shrugged.
“Or surprised.”
Another shrug. “I knew you were there.”
“You did?”
“You breathe through your mouth.”
“I do?”
“Whenever you’re anxious or upset.”
“You knew I was listening the whole time?”
“Not the whole time, no. But at some point I just knew you were there.”
“And you kept talking anyway.”
“I was curious to hear what Lili had to say.”
“You did most of the talking.”
“Guess I did.”
“Did you mean the things you said?”
“I don’t know. I said a lot of things.”
“You asked Lili if she really wanted to be part of this family.”
Michelle opened her mouth as if to speak, then stopped, taking another sip of her coffee as Lili entered the room. “Speak of the devil. Although technically, of course, I don’t believe in the devil. We didn’t hear you come down the stairs.”
Lili glanced toward the wooly pink bunny-festooned socks peeking out from underneath her blue-and-white-striped pajamas, as if they explained the silence of her approach. “Is there enough coffee for me?”
“I think there’s still some left.” Caroline got up and poured Lili a cup. “Milk? Sugar?”
“Black’s good.”
“I can make eggs, or there’s cereal,” Caroline offered.
“Maybe just some toast.” Lili crossed to the counter and extricated two pieces of raisin bread from the bag before Caroline could do it for her. A minute later, she was sitting between them at the table, buttering her toast.
“Have you spoken to Beth this morning?” Caroline asked, realizing she was breathing through her mouth and coughing into her hands.
“I called, but nobody answered. Not her landline or her cell.” Lili glanced at the clock on the wall. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s already on her way to the airport. She always likes to get places way early.”
“Why would she be on her way to the airport?” Michelle asked. “Don’t tell me she’s coming here.”
Caroline felt a stab of panic in her side. “What time would her plane get in?”