There’s silence on the other end, and then Salem says, “You’re a good one, Hawk. I’ll see you in a couple of days.”
Then she hangs up, and I hang my head.
“Jeez,” Beth calls. “I didn’t think it was possible for you to look worse.”
She’s standing over by the truck, all packed up, waiting. I’d tell her to shut up again, but she just did all that extra work while I was on the phone. I settle for a grunt of annoyance.
She shakes her head at me in a big-sister mixture of sympathy and annoyance.
“Come on. Let’s go cross that moat.”
* * *
BYthe time we pull up to the house, I’m pretty much expecting the worst. The van’s still out front, so at least one of my most-feared options hasn’t come to pass, but I’m still fairly certain that I’ll get inside to find Jess and Tegan packed up and ready to leave. And even though I spent hours today turning over last night in my mind, I’m still not sure what I could ever say to Jess to get her to forgive me. I’ve broken something so fundamental to her.
My stomach is sick with nerves.
But when Beth and I get out of the truck, we’re both treated to the delighted, high-pitched shrieks of Sam, Katie, and Ginny, and I can’t help but smile.
“Oh, God,” Beth says. “They’re on the trampoline. Mace is probably a wreck.”
I give her a curious look, and she rolls her eyes.
“He hates that thing. Didn’t talk to me for three days after I ordered it, even though it’s got the safety net around it. He’ll probably need to go to bed early from the stress.”
Poor Mace. When I met him, the guy reminded me of a stone bust in the library, he was so stoic. But one wedding to my sister and three daughters later and it’s like looking at a big, beating heart with legs growing out of the bottom.
“I’ll go relieve him,” I say, and tell myself it’s not about putting off the inevitable.
“I’ll come. I love to see the fun they have on it. It makes up for the times Mace emails me links to stories of trampoline accidents.”
We fall in step beside each other, making our way around to the back of the house. I’m soothed by the sounds of my nieces laughing and shouting, wishing I could borrow even a fraction of their levity. But as we turn the corner, I hear two other voices mix in.
One in particular.
Jess’s voice.
Jess’slaugh.
I’ve never heard it before, her full, loud laugh.
I’ve never heard it, and yet I’d know it anywhere.
Barely fifty yards away, and I can see her. She’s up on that trampoline, her huge, gorgeous mass of spun-gold hair swirling in the air as she jumps, holding on to Ginny’s hand.
I still where I’m standing, struck dumb. I don’t even notice that Beth’s kept on walking until she turns back and waves her hands in front of my face.
“Oh, yeah,” she says, moving to nudge me forward. “You’re fucked.”
I register that Katie’s on the trampoline, too; I register, in a vague sense, that Tegan and Sam are cheering them on from the ground or maybe just calling out for their turn. But as we get closer, I can’t focus on anyone other than Jess—the way she turns and takes both of Ginny’s hands, the way she keeps her jumps small for Ginny’s sake at first and then makes them bigger and bigger, bringing my gasping, thrilled youngest niece along. I watch as her smile comes into full view—and thenI’ma beating heart on legs, unimaginably worse off than I was before I heard her, saw her like this.
If she goes now, I doubt I’ll ever recover.
“Now would you look at this!” Beth says, using a particular mom-voice I recognize. A mock-chiding tone, one that’ll make the girls excited to act as if they’ve gotten away with something.
“Mama!” Katie calls out, kicking out her legs and bouncing on her butt, which makes Ginny laugh and laugh, even as Jess slows her jumping, gradually bringing them to a stop.
“Where is your daddy?” Beth says, setting her hands on her hips, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
