Bathin, who was leaning on the counter drinking a cola, leaned forward, interested. “Ah.” He leaned back.
“It’s not one of yours,” Abbi admonished. “It’s a lucky rock. I found it by the Blarney stone. And since you didn’t have a chance to kiss it for luck, I got you this pebble, which has to have someof the luck in it because it’s like a baby Blarney. So now you can kiss it.”
Lula smiled. “It’s wonderful. Thank you.” Then she made a big deal of giving it a loud smack, and Abbi clapped her hands.
“Time for cake?” Ricky put a pretty, yellow and white candle into the center of the cake.
“Lu?” I asked.
“Yes!” Abbi said. “Let’s do cake!”
Ricky placed the cake in front of Lu.
Bathin lit the flame with a little snap of his fingers (showoff), and then we sang the song wishing her a happy birthday.
It’s a short, simple song, but our voices seemed to make the best of it, Raven going for fancy harmony, Bathin carrying the tune with a warm baritone, Ricky’s rich alto guiding us all, and Abbi’s voice sweet and pure.
I was singing, too, my gaze on only one person, one woman. My life, my world.
Lula was crying, but the tears slipped almost as an afterthought into the corners of her smile.
She was watching me, too, as if this moment was one she would hold safe and secret to unpack again and again in the years to come.
I wanted that. I wanted that for her, and for me, and for us. Years and years of birthday songs. So many that the memories and the cakes and the wishes on candles all blended together into a blurry happiness.
“Make a wish,” I whispered after the song was over.
She closed her eyes. We held the space for her, the silence, to give her wish its fullest form.
Then she opened her eyes and blew out the candle, giving the wish breath, life, wings. Her gaze found mine, and there was a question there, a hope.
Yes, I said, even though I didn’t know her question.Always, for you.
She wiped at a tear with the back of her hand.
“Thank you,” she said to all of us. “This is lovely.”
“Wait until you try the cake,” Bathin said. “Made by a friend of ours. He runs a bakery called the Puffin Muffin.”
“You didn’t make it?” she asked Ricky.
Ricky shook her head. “None of this was my idea. I love it, though.”
“What kind of cake is it?” she asked, as Ricky handed her a knife and she cut off a generous slice.
“Strawberry angel food,” I said.
“That’s right.” Bathin took the next slice and sat at the table. “Just like you asked.”
Lu paused in cutting. “You asked Bathin to do this?”
“He had already used my feather,” Raven said, like that had any bearing on the event. “I mean, what else are demons good for?”
“Ask me for a favor,” Bathin said around a mouth full of cake, “and you’ll find out.”
“I’d rather work out the details later,” I said. “And just enjoy cake now.”
“Details?” Bathin asked, his gaze locked on me. “What details?”
