The girl was sitting on one of the lower branches now, level with the window. She was wearing a school uniform again. Her book was tucked in the waistband of her skirt and she looked like she’d been ready to scoot down the tree when she’d seen him.
It wasn’t Damian’s finest moment, chest puffed up, spinning around in a dusty room like a would-be ballerina. He put his hands down and met the girl’s stare. Perhaps if he gave her the old western, squinty-eyed glare, she’d resume her descent.
She didn’t. She squinted back at him, smug in the knowledge that the branch wasn’t going to support him, so he couldn’t get to her even if he tried.
A few seconds into the stare down, Damian felt the corners of his mouth lifting. He managed to transform it into a snarl and turned away, busying himself with the task of cleaning up the room. He kept the girl in his periphery. He wasn’t about to drop his guard in case she decided to go all ninja on him again.
He was almost done when he found a pile of colorful papers, the kind he’d once used for origami. Skye had gotten them for him, and he had an instant flashback of the delight on her face whenever he made her something.
It seemed like another lifetime, but Damian’s fingers yearned for the feel of that paper. He picked up a green sheet, yellowed and faded now, but still the brightest thing in that room, and folded it into a swan. It was the last story he remembered MaMaLu telling him and Skye, before all of their lives had changed. Damian felt like he was picking up where he’d left off, except MaMaLu wasn’t there anymore, and Skye wasn’t there anymore. No one was. Except a little girl who was watching him like he afforded her more entertainment than the book she was now pretending to read.
Damian offered her the swan, but she ignored him, keeping her eyes on the book. So, he placed it on the windowsill, picked up two bags filled with garbage and went downstairs to dump them. When he came back up, she was gone. And so was the paper swan.
DAMIAN WAS PAINTING THE KITCHEN when he spotted the girl again. She seemed to stop by at the same time every day, after school. She was kneeling by the pond, feeding the fish that he had just reintroduced into the water. A half peeled orange lay on her lap. She nipped each segment with her teeth and turned it inside out, picking out some of the flesh for the fish and eating the rest.
To Damian, it was one of those perfect snapshots of childhood, the way her world was condensed into an orange and a fish pond, surrounded by sunshine and grass. She was completely immersed in that moment, free of past and future, in it for the sheer enjoyment of the here and now—the things thatcanbe grasped and lived and experienced. It was a lesson Damian needed to learn. He had let the past overshadow his life. He didn’t know what the future held, but he hadnow.And now was a beautiful, cloudless day. Damian pictured the ocean before him, calm and endless. Although his boat was docked nearby, he hadn’t been on the water since prison. He’d been so caught up with restoring Casa Paloma that he hadn’t taken the time to enjoy his freedom, and more importantly, he hadn’t felt like it. But as he watched the little girl finish her orange and rinse her hands in the pond before leaving, Damian yearned for the wind and the sea again.
He put away the paint, locked the house and spent the afternoon getting reacquainted with old friends: his boat, a blue, blue sky and a sparkling ocean.
Damian made more paper swans for the little girl. He left them lying about where he knew she’d find them: tacked to the gate, sitting on the porch, hanging on a string from the tree by Skye’s window. She never talked to him, but she always took the swans, and she always left before it got dark.
Damian stopped by one of the outdoor markets that had sprung up between Casa Paloma and Paza del Mar. He picked up fresh fruits and vegetables and meat. He was almost done when he spotted cans of tuna stacked on a shelf.
I made you something,Skye had said.
Her ceviche had turned out to be the foulest thing he’d ever tasted, but those four words, those four words had blown his tightly guarded world apart. No one had loved him or fought for him, or made him feel the way Skye had. The way she still did.
Most days, Damian kept busy enough to ward off thoughts of Skye. Nights were different. At night, he had no defense. He lay in bed with a hunger so wide and so vast that he felt himself get swallowed up in it. Nothing, not even theLucky Strikebox under his pillow, could keep him from falling into the soul-sucking hole in the center of his heart.
As he drove home from the market, Damian wondered where Skye was, if she had found someone who deserved her more than he did, someone who brought her more happiness than pain. He had deliberately kept himself from any information about her. If he knew where she lived, where she worked, where she shopped, he couldn’t have stopped himself from looking her up, and he wasn’t sure what he’d do if he saw her again, even if it was just from across the street. Living without her was agony, but the thought of seeing her with someone else, no matter how happy and fulfilled, was unbearable.
Damian dropped four bags of groceries in the kitchen and went back to the car for the rest. As he reached the main door, the little girl walked past him, dragging the rest inside.
“Can’t you make anything else?” She plopped herself up on one of the stools and placed a paper swan on the counter.
“You don’t like swans?” He had left that one tucked under a stone by the pond, a few days ago, with its neck peeking out.
“Why do you only make swans?”
“Because my mama told me about a magic swan that hides on the grounds here. I haven’t found one, but you remind me of it.”
“Me?”
“Yes. You make me laugh. That’s some powerful magic. And I think you’re going to grow up into a beautiful swan.”
“Are you calling me an ugly duckling?” She hopped off the stool and confronted him.
“No. I’m just . . .” Damian cupped his groin and jumped back instinctively. He didn’t like the way this little girl had him hopping around like a bunny rabbit. “You know what you are? You’re a big bully. You kick me, you spy on me, you walk in and out of here without my permission, and now you’re trying to intimidate me.”
They glared at each other, her hands on her hips, and him guarding his balls.
“What does ‘intimidate’ mean?” she asked.
“To frighten, terrify, or push someone around.”
Her scowl softened. She seemed to like the idea. “You’re funny,” she said, her face breaking into a grin.
“And you have dimples.” Damian faked disgust.
