Mary let her fingertips trace their way down his neck. Stefan took a breath and closed his eyes. “We should really get you packed,” he said.
It had been decided that the apartment on Boosk Avenue was unsuitable for the Chase girls. And no sooner was it deemed so than Martina Kelly spoke to someone who spoke to someone who happened to have a nice little condominium in a recently construction development. They would love to rent it to Mary and Hannah. And when the question of the rent came up, Martina named an impossibly low sum. They’re just glad to have nice tenants, sweetie. And just like that, it was done. Such was the ease that came with being close to the Kellys. In their new condo, the Chase girls would have a dishwasher and a laundry room. They would have new carpeting and a bathroom mirror surrounded by globelike bulbs. The Chase girls would even have two bedrooms, but for Mary, the idea of sleeping separately from her sister was unthinkable. She decided that maybe they could use the second bedroom as Stefan’s office, so he could have a place to study when he was down from Boston.
Before Hannah even spoke, Mary sensed that she was about to. She looked first to Mary, but then addressed Stefan. “Stefan,” she said, her eyes concerned and determined. “I don’t want to move.”
Stefan put his book down. “What?” he said, reaching over to tickle her belly. “Hannah Banana, your new place is going to be great!”
Hannah squirmed away from his touch.
“Bunny,” said Mary. And Hannah’s eyes found her sister’s. “You didn’t tell me you didn’t want to move.”
Hannah’s face remained serious; she didn’t like to cause trouble. “I like it here.”
“I like it here, too, Bunny,” replied Mary, realizing that Hannah’s attachment to place was one of the very many marked differences between the Chase girls. If I didn’t know better, I wouldn’t even think you were related, Diane had once said, while looking at a picture of a toddler Hannah and a teenage Mary. “But we’re not going far. You’ll be at the same school. You’ll even ride the same bus.”
“But it’ll be a different house.”
Mary was silent for a moment. “We don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” she said, shaking her head. “We can stay right here. We don’t have to move.”
Stefan cocked his head but remained silent. Mary remained focused on Hannah.
Hannah held Mary’s gaze for a moment, then she dropped her chin. “No,” said Hannah. “It’s okay. We can go.”
“I think,” said Stefan, straining to stand up from the floor, “that moving will sound a lot better after a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.” He didn’t realize that Mary meant it when she said they didn’t have to go. He didn’t yet know the lengths Mary would go to for Hannah. Mary watched his calves as he walked to the kitchen. They were a sailor’s calves: strong, sinewy, and tanned. “Hannah Banana!” he called, as Mary heard the cupboards in her shabby little kitchen open, then bang shut. “You want grape or strawberry?”
And later, as Mary stood at the sink washing the plates they had eaten on, she heard Stefan and Hannah in the living room. She knew that they were lying where she had left them: with their heads at opposite ends of the small couch, Hannah’s socked foot pressed against Stefan’s bare one. Hannah liked him more than she had ever liked a man before. He bought her books and showed her maps. And there was a steadiness to him. A constancy. “You’re gonna be happy at your new place, Banana,” Mary heard him say. “There’s a great big yard for you to play in.”
“And it’s not far, right?”
Stefan shook his head. “Nah,” he said. Mary pictured him lifting Hannah’s foot higher using his own. “It’s not far.”
“And we’re just going to move once. It’s not going to be like before,” she said, letting herself find comfort in Stefan’s reassurances. Letting herself believe him. “It’s not going to be like after the swamp.”
Mary shut off the water. She was in the doorway as Stefan asked, his eyes narrow with amusement, “What swamp?”
And before another sound could be uttered, Mary said, her expression as smooth as stone, “So, should we start packing?”
That night, after Stefan had gone home, Mary climbed into bed next to Hannah.
“Bunny,” she whispered, stroking Hannah’s hair away from her forehead. “Wake up.”
Hannah’s eyes opened for a second and then slipped shut again, as if her lids couldn’t manage under the weight of sleep.
“Bunny,” said Mary again. “I just want to tell you that I meant what I said.” Mary looked around the dark room. The Chase girls’ few things had been put into cardboard boxes and stacked in the corner. In black marker Mary had written the contents on each. TOYS. CLOTHES. BOOKS. It was comforting to Mary to see how little they had accumulated. “We don’t have to move if you don’t want to.”
Hannah’s eyes opened and stayed that way this time. Then she propped herself up on one elbow and seemed to think for a moment, the wheels of her mind starting to turn slowly after slumber. She looked at Mary. “Why does Stefan think we should?”
“He cares about us,” answered Mary. “He wants us to have a nice place to live.”
Hannah let her head fall back onto her pillow, and she stared at the ceiling, her arms at her sides atop the white sheets. She watched as lights from a passing car moved like a spotlight through the room. “I remember where we used to live.” It was the first time Hannah had mentioned the Water’s Edge in months and months. “With Mom.”
“I do, too,” said Mary.
“Do you think we’ll ever go back there?”
Mary studied the curve of Hannah’s profile. “I don’t think so, Bunny,” she finally said.
“We never go back to places once we leave. We stay there for a while and then we never go back.” Mary knew that Hannah was talking about their time on the road.
“We’re not going to do that anymore.”
“Promise?”
Mary paused for a moment, realizing the gravity of what she was about to do. Hannah is the only person for whom she would try to hold to her word. “I promise,” she said, nodding.
Hannah watched her sister, then took a breath and seemed to settle down deeper into their mattress, letting her eyes slip shut. “Hey, Bunny, one more thing,” said Mary. And Hannah’s gaze was once again on her. “You know some stories are just for us, right?”
Hannah’s nod was slow and small.
Mary leaned in and kissed her forehead. “I know it can be hard sometimes. To remember what’s what,” she said. “But it’s going to get easier. We’re not going to have to tell so many stories. We’re just going to have to remember the important ones.”
“Mary?” asked Hannah.
Mary pulled back to find Hannah’s eyes. “Will you tell me about Princess Mary and Princess Hannah? Until I fall asleep?”
So Mary did. She took the princesses to a castle on a mountain with a spire that rose through the clouds, where the evil queen couldn’t find them. Where they could hide forever if they wanted. And when Stefan asked Mary about what Hannah meant when she was talking about the swamp, Mary smiled knowingly. “Sometimes Hannah just makes things up. She’s at that age, I guess.”