I’m not superstitious, but I can’t leave the star behind. So, I add it to the half-full packet of Swedish Fish and continue clearing up the mess.
Three fish later and I find another star.
And another.
I inspect this one closely. It’s made of holographic foil that changes color in the light, one moment silver, the next green. Wherever the stars came from, they haven’t been here long; they’re clean and smooth, each arm perfectly pointed.
I glance around the cemetery. An elderly couple with a scruffy dog is some distance away, digging up a small plot and planting flowers in fresh soil. No one else is here, and I didn’t pass anyone on my way in.
But when I look closely, I realize that the entire grave is sprinkled with these tiny perfect stars. I don’t even know how I missed them when I got here.
“What do you think?” I ask the twins, whose eyes are still open wide. “Coincidence?”
Aiden watches me, pondering the question.
Even Aislinn has stopped wriggling as though she somehow understands the poignancy of the moment.
I sit back on my heels with the tiny star clinging to my fingertip. “Should I pick them all up or leave them here?”
Is it selfish to want to take them home? Am I looking for a sign that Danielle is here when none exists? Or should I leave them to sparkle in the moon’s glow at night so that my sister can find her way?
A tug at my heart gives me the answer I’m looking for.
I set the tiny star back on the ground and stand up. “For you, Dan.”
The babies are quiet as we make our way back through the graveyard towards the car waiting for us on the side of the road. They don’t make a sound as I strap them into their infant car seats. They’re still unusually quiet when we get back to the house, and I start to question if I shouldn’t have spent so much time in the sun with them today, although they were covered by the sunshade and were wearing cotton sunhats.
Cash and Bash are waiting for us when we get back.
They aren’t alone. Moira is here too, and my chest floods with guilt when I force a smile. I don’t want company today. I don’t have the energy for small talk and smiles and paying attention, even though I know that she is probably here to help. Moira is great with the twins. She’s done it all before, and with a husband who would rather lash out with his fist than make his family’s life more comfortable.
But visiting Danielle’s grave has left me feeling uneasy, and I need space and time to get my head around it.
“There they are.” Moira takes Aiden from me and nuzzles his belly causing him to make little gurgling baby sounds.
I’m being ungrateful, I know I am, but I also know that I won’t be able to shake this off easily.
Moira hands Aiden to Bash, and picks Aislinn up next. No favoritism. “Come to Nana, sweetie.” She plants a kiss on Aislinn’s cheek, and my baby girl grabs Moira’s hair, entwining it around her fingers with that special strength that only babies have.
“I’m so sorry,” I say. “This is her new favorite game.”
I try, and fail, to free Moira from the baby’s death-grip, and Aislinn clings on for dear life until Cash holds out his arms to her. The release is like a trapdoor being sprung open.
Moira is unfazed. “You look tired, Remy.” It isn’t a dig. Her eyes are filled with genuine concern. “Go and put your feet up. I’ll take care of the little ones.”
“I should change their diapers first. Then they’ll need feeding.”
She smiles. “I made up some formula while you were out.”
When I first met Moira, I feared that she might be a little controlling, but I quickly realized, despite Ariel’s protests to the contrary, that she simply wants to help. If she has the time and the capability to make her family’s life easier, she will. No hesitation. No checking her diary first to see when she can fit them in. If I called her in the middle of the night, crying because I’d had no sleep, she would be here before I could walk downstairs and fill the coffee machine.
Which makes me feel even guiltier.
We all wander through to the den. Cash and Bash place the twins in their bouncers while Moira fetches their bags, and I sit in the rocking chair by the window. The guys bought it for mefor nursing, but I find myself sitting here more frequently now that the days are longer, watching the birds in the garden, and allowing my body to heal from the trauma of childbirth.
I know my hormones are all over the place. I’ve read the leaflets; I understand that it can take up to twelve months for the body to heal after pregnancy, so I haven’t put any pressure on myself to exercise or join mom-and-baby groups or think about college.
And Cash and Bash have been here every step of the way. Massaging my back, feeding the babies, trawling the city for cabbage leaves in the middle of the night when my milk came in and my breasts were swollen and tender. Frozen cabbage leaves inside my bra—Moira’s advice—and it worked.
