“He’s not nice.”
I lay my head against hers and a tear that I am very glad she cannot see falls on her hair. I say nothing.
“He went away?” Her tone is questioning, as though she requires assurance that a return to home does not equal a return to him.
“Yes. I think he’s gone. Maybe for a very long time. Maybe for always.” And because I do not want Kat to live a life of bitterness, I offer her the only advice I can in this moment. “Your father didn’t know how to love, sweets. He didn’t know. But you do. Youdo. Promise me that you will remember that whenever you think of him, Kat. He did not know the way of love. But you do. Promise me?”
She nods and says nothing more, not on the rest of the carriage ride and not for the rest of the day. But as we lie in our sweltering room that night I think of what she said to me about wanting home, and a solution presents itself to me. It is far from perfect, but this is not a perfect world, is it?
Even so, it is a solution I don’t have the courage yet to suggest. I must wait until the timing seems right.
By the end of the third week in Tucson, the calendar has leaned into mid-May and the scorching heat is feeling more and more like a hot poker needling at me to tell Candace my idea.
On one hot and breezy afternoon, we go to visit Candace as usual, and after a while, Kat does what she usually does and heads to the coolest corner of the patio to draw pictures.
A letter bearing a Texas postmark is resting in Candace’s lap; it has been there for the entirety of our visit. I can feel the weightof it between us. That letter is important or Candace would not have brought it out to the patio with her. Candace sees me looking at it and fingers the edges of the envelope.
“I’ve heard from my cousin Lucinda,” she says, her voice already sounding tired and weak even though we’ve only been with her an hour.
“Oh?”
“She’s the youngest daughter of my mother’s sister and a few years older than me. She lives in Texas. I wrote to her just after you arrived. Lucinda has invited Kat and me to come live with her and her husband and her two young sons.”
My heart starts to pound inside me and words of response can’t find their way to my tongue. When I say nothing, Candace continues.
“My father left the bulk of his estate to worthy causes. He disinherited me just like he said he would so that Martin would receive nothing when I die. But he left a substantial amount to this facility. I can stay here in Tucson for the next twenty years if I want to. But I don’t want to. And I don’t have twenty years. My condition is worsening. The doctor and nurses here have told me as much.”
Tears prick my eyes and I fight them back. “I’m sorry.” I am indeed truly sad for her, but I also don’t want her taking Kat to Texas. I don’t know if the tears are for me or for her.
“Lucinda says she and her husband are willing to raise Kat. If we went now, Kat would have a chance to get to know them before I... before I go.”
But even as these words sting, I sense a hesitancy in Candace’s voice.
“Is that what you want?” I ask, my voice sounding feeble in my ears.
Candace sighs and gazes at Kat on the other side of the patio. “I don’t know what I want, other than I want my Kitty Kat to be happy and cared for. Not just now but after I am gone.”
The tears I’m holding at bay begin to slip down my face because this is what I want most, too, for Kat to be happy and cared for, now and always. I must have taken leave of my senses to think I was the suitable choice to make it so. I am not her family. I am not even legally her stepmother. I am someone who has known her for less than two years. I am someone who answered an advertisement to marry a stranger. I am someone with a past that I never allow myself to revisit.
I love Kat, I do. But who am I to think I should be the one to mother her after Candace passes?
Candace shifts her gaze back to me. “Lucinda said they are willing to raise her,” she whispers.
I nod but do not trust myself to say,I heard you.
“She didn’t say they are wanting to, though. I fear they are merely offering what family should offer.”
“Don’t go,” I blurt, surprising myself with how these two words explode off my tongue. “Please, don’t take her there.”
Candace stares at me for a moment. “She’s my daughter,” she says quietly but with authority.
“I know she is. But she... she loves her little sister so much. I know that might be hard for you to imagine because of who Sarah is, but Kat loves her just the same. She would never see her again if you took her to Texas. And Kat... Kat loves me, too, Candace. I’m so sorry if that’s hard to hear, but she does. And Ilove her. Doesn’t love make a home? Doesn’t love make a family? She’s been through so much in her young life. I’m the only one besides you who knows just how much she’s had to shoulder. Your cousin doesn’t know. Your cousin would never know!”
The tears continue to fall, and I blot them with my sleeve.
Candace is staring hard at me. “You would have me hand over my child to you while I am still living? You would have me go to Texas without her?”
“No! No, I would not have you do that.”
