“You don’t know?” I asked, surprised. She seemed so full of conviction.
“I don’t,” she said. “We make each decision when we come to it and do the best that we can.”
I supposed she was right. “That’s what I’m trying to do, too.”
“You aren’t really thinking of giving up the baby, are you?” Grampa said.
I looked down at Solana, who yawned at me and beat her tail on the floor in oblivious contentment.
“No,” I said. But that didn’t mean I saw clearly how to live out my life with Althea’s family.
Madeline’s shoulders relaxed, but she shook her head as she looked at me, like she wasn’t pleased with her first real glimpse of the stranger in her family.
*
A couple of days later, after dinner, I took my first significant walk without my cane and went to the stables. It was a relief to have some time alone. Relatives had started dropping in to visit. They were nice, but between them and the housekeeping staff, the house was never quiet. Now twilight was falling, and I liked the slow wave of purple that eased up the valley. This time, the scent of the barn was milder, and I was able to wander in. The dark, solid woodwork gleamed beneath metal bits, coils of rope, and tack. Big animals shifted their feet in the shadows as I, the alien, ambled slowly past the stalls.
This isn’t a bad place to be in limbo, is it? I asked my inner voice. To beckon her was instinct, but she wasn’t there, and the back of my mind remained silent. That was another thing to ask Rosie when I ever saw her again: did she hear voices? Did she notice I was gone?
A horse raised its head to look at me with big black eyes, and I had no idea if he was mine. I didn’t even know how to touch him. A flapping above drew my gaze, and cooing came from the loft.
“You used to play up there when you were little,” Tom said.
I turned to see him walking into the barn, and my breath hitched. He looked different, and not just because of a recent shave and clean clothes. He seemed to be part of the calm of the barn, like he belonged here more than I did. The blue in his shirt was a good match for his eyes, and he watched me thoughtfully as he approached.
“I’m sorry I haven’t replied to any of your messages,” I said.
“So you got my texts? I came to see if your parents took your phone.”
“They didn’t.”
“Good to know you avoided me all on your own,” he said, smiling.
“I’m surprised my father let you come out here.”
“He didn’t. Your parents don’t know I’m here,” he said. “I’d rather keep it that way.”
“How did you get past security?”
“I know a couple trails,” he replied. “It’s no big deal.”
The alertness I’d felt around him before was back again, and I felt a new blush around the neckline of my shirt.
“Want to go up?” he asked, nodding his chin toward the ladder.
I took a look at the old wooden rungs. “No thanks. I’ve had bad luck with ladders before.”
“So I hear,” he said. “I did a little research on Rosie Sinclair. She acted pretty unglued at the end there before she was expelled. I’m not going to lie.”
“She wasn’t unglued. She just had nobody believing her,” I said. “I thought you didn’t believe I was her.”
“I’m not sure what I believe, but I can tell she’s important to you, so I looked her up. Nobody knows where she’s gone,” Tom said. “Do you?”
I thought of my phone call with Linus. “No,” I said. “I don’t know where she is. I wish I did. I’d like to help her if she needs it.”
“Would she let you?”
I laughed, surprised by his astute question. “I don’t know. That’s a good point. She probably wouldn’t know me at first.”
“I’d like to see that meeting.” He set a hand on the ladder. “You used to keep some stuff up in the loft. Want to see? I could bring it down for you.”
“I guess. Sure.”
He headed up the ladder, and the bird flew out with a rustle of wings. I heard some bumping, and a moment later, he came back down carrying a crate on his shoulder. He set it on a bench. Under a couple of gilded riding trophies, I saw a jumble of paper dolls and a crusty hand-held computer game. I sat slowly on the bench and pulled an old plastic halyard out of the crate, the sort kids made in crafts at camp.
He took the other end of the bench. “That’s ugly,” he said.
“Truly.” I nodded toward the crate. “Althea won those trophies. I can’t even ride a horse.”
“So?”
“I don’t know. I had a talk with Madeline the other day. She made a manicure appointment for me.”
He laughed. “She should have known you wouldn’t go for that.”
“That’s the thing,” I said. “It feels like I don’t have any control of my life here. My family wants me to be someone I’m not. They’re nice and everything.”
“But they don’t know you.”
I nodded toward the crate of memorabilia. “And here you are trying to prompt my memory. You can’t resist, either.”
“It’s that obvious, huh?”
I leaned my head back against the wall and rested my hands on my big belly. “I don’t blame you. You want Althea back, like everyone else does. But she’s not coming. I’m a perpetual reminder and disappointment.”
“I find you fascinating, actually,” he said.
I glanced over at him, doubtful. He was flipping over a flimsy paper doll. He tried fitting the paper stand section in the notches.
“Do you have any sisters?” I asked.
“Nope. Only child.” He set the paper doll aside and pulled out the ancient computer game. Frogger. He tapped the buttons experimentally.
“Do you live with your parents?” I asked.
“My dad. My parents got divorced when I was in seventh grade. My mom remarried and moved away.”
“That had to be hard. Do you see her much?”
He shrugged. “No. It is what it is. I got the best of the deal, staying here with Dad. He wants to know when you’re coming over, by the way. No rush.”
“Good,” I said. Because that wasn’t happening any time soon.
I peeked down into the crate and lifted up a little pile of books: a couple of graphic novels, a volume of poetry, and a red school notebook tied with twine. Private, it said on the cover.
I held it up for Tom to see. “Did you know about this?”
He shook his head and held out a hand. “Let me see.”
Some instinct made me hold it back, and I pressed it to my chest. “I don’t think so.”
His eyebrows arched in surprise, and he laughed. “I have more of a right to read that than you do.”
“No you don’t. You actually knew her. Since she kept it hidden from you, she had her reasons.”
He stood up and came before me. “Let me have it. I mean it.”
“No.”
“Come on. I’m not going to fight you for it.”
“Good,” I said, rising to my feet. I had to steady my balance a second, but then I was fine.
“I know what,” he said. “Let’s leave it here. Or better yet, we’ll burn it unread. That’s what she’d want.”
I looked at him, curious. “What are you afraid I’ll find in here?”
I watched his gaze drop to the book in my hand, and then rise to my mouth.