“Can’t help it. If something happened to your mother, there is no way on earth I’d let someone else have you. But if I were dying, too...” the low rumble choked off. “Poor man.”
“If he had no other family— immigrants, sometimes even those who are born here,” her mother’s voice was a mere whisper.
Sophie realized afresh what strong, empathetic parents she had. They knew a man for only moments and gave him thenoblest possible backstory. With his pallor and the news that his wife had died in childbirth, perhaps they had made connections that weren’t there.
I’ll never know for sure.
Jesse’s words suddenly whispered in her mind.Doeseverythinghave a scientific explanation? What about— love?“I don’t need more of an explanation right now,” Sophie pulled back and lifted her head. Her smile was tearstained but firmly in place. “I still have the best parents in the universe.”
For some reason, her mother burst into convulsive sobs at that. Sophie decided the questions were done for the day.
“DADDY?” SOPHIE WAShelping her father haul Christmas decorations up from the storage unit in the basement.
“Can you get the door?”
“Got it.” Sophie squeezed past him and the box holding the artificial tree to swing open the door of their apartment.
“Daddy? In Nigerian culture... do they have things like vampires?”
He shrugged. “I think every culture does. Yeah, there are old stories about the witch-women who steal the blood of other wives and children. There are stories about theobayifo, who can live among humans without them knowing it. Why?”
“Just wondering.”
“That doesn’t sound like your ‘just wondering’ voice.”
“Um. It’s just... I think some things about me that defy logic. Right?”
“Don’t mean you leap to crazy.”
“Isn’t everything crazy until you prove it?” Sophie countered. “The world was flat and the sun moved around the Earth, right up until someone proved they didn’t.”
“Oh, Lord. Shouldn’t have sent you to that fancy college.”
“Daddy, this college is so not fancy. You’re going to come and see me play, right?” She ducked her head suddenly, intently staring at the Baby’s First Christmas ornament she’d just unpacked. “I’m trying out for Spring Soloist. It’s a big deal, for a tiny college.”
Sophie turned when her father remained silent. He’d sat down on the arm of the couch, face working. “Dad! What’s wrong? Does your arm hurt? Is there a pain in your jaw?”
“You’ve never... all these years you wanted to sit in the back. Soloist? On stage? Letting everyone hear how good you are?”
Sophie smiled and nodded. She swallowed something like anxiety that pushed into her throat. “Let ‘em stare. Of course, they may have to dim the spotlight. I wouldn’t want to blind the audience.”
With a soft thump, she was enfolded in her father’s arms. “I’m so proud of you, Sophie.”
She nodded into his shoulder a few times, letting the lump in her throat dissipate. “I think I’m proud of myself, too.”
“MOM? ARE THERE THINGSlike vampires in Armenian culture?”
Her mother nodded firmly. “Absolutely, especially in the Ararat. The dakhanavar. They protect the mountain and the little villages in the valley from intruders, but if you are a stranger, they will bite your feet and suck out your blood. Tatik’s great-uncles always put garlic in their boots when they left the valley.”
Sophie’s mind couldn’t quite work out what her mother had just said. “Youbelievein them?”
“Of course! How else do you think Tatik and her sisters escaped to the refugee camp when they were small?”
“Um... a U.N. peacekeeping delegation?”
“There was no U.N. in her tiny village, sweetie. No, I am sure there were many good people who helped, but I know that it took a miracle for our family to escape not once, but twice. The dakhanavar.”
“Wh-what do they look like?”
