She nodded quietly. And we walked on—past softly lit facades of buildings, old-world architecture, the lamp glow on cobblestones.
“Are you afraid?” she finally asked when we turned down a narrow street lined with residential buildings. “Of going overseas?”
“Are you afraid of doing surgery?” I asked her. “We’re both looking death in the eye one way or the other.”
“Es ist spät!” A woman in a robe shouted down at us from her balcony.
I chuckled. “She’s telling us it’s late.”
“I know,” Hallie said.
“Entschuldigung Sie uns!” I shouted our apology back up to the woman.
“Ach!” she turned and went back inside.
Hallie and I laughed. It was the laughter of a shared moment, private and unexpected.
“Say something else in German,” Hallie had asked me.
I paused only for a moment and said, “Ich finde, du bistdas schönste und interessanteste Mädchen, das ich je kennengelernt habe.”I think you are the most beautiful and interesting girl I have ever met.
“Something about a girl,” she said smiling.
“Yes,” I said. “Something about a girl.”
Chapter 7
Hallie
I want my children to have all the things I couldn't afford.
Then I want to move in with them.
~ Phyllis Diller
Voices carry to the front door from the kitchen when I walk in from my shift. I yawn, taking off my shoes and padding down the hallway. I’m still acclimating to working every other day for a full twenty-four hours. One more workday and then I’ll have four days off in a row. Maybe then I can finally get all the moving in done. We’re still living around boxes in most of the rooms.
I haven’t seen Mia face-to-face since I left yesterday morning. She hears me approach and comes catapulting at me down the hallway.
“Mommy!” She leaps into my arms and I catch her, holding her close.
Her legs dangle down my front, feet brushing my shins.
“I missed you, Mommy,” she says, burrowing her head in my neck and wrapping her legs around my waist. She smells like baked goods and herself—the same smell she’s had since she was a baby, only different.
“I missed you too, Spike.” I kiss the top of her head, holding her close with an extra squeeze and then easing her to the floor.
She clasps my hand and tugs me toward the kitchen.
“Isn’t it exciting?” She’s bouncing on her toes, energy radiating through her.
“Isn’t what exciting?” I ask, smiling at Mom and Avery who are standing around the island.
“Good morning,” I greet them.
“Good morning, sweetheart,” Mom says. “Want some muffins? I baked.”
“You baked?”
