She scoots her bowl over, and I do as she says, mixing until my hand is tired from working the spoon.
“Now dump it out, but first flour your surface.” I do both and she instructs me on how to roll the dough into a ball. “Now wrap it up. We’ll let it refrigerate for a few minutes while we drink tea in the sunroom. Then we’ll put the dough through the crinkler.”
All of that happens and ten minutes later we’re sitting in a sunroom that’s filled with so many potted plants that this space has instantly become my new happy place.
I’m ready to talk about anything—except Devlin—and assume that conversation’s over until she says, “But back to my grandson—like I said, he was the happiest I’ve ever known him when you were together. I don’t know why you broke up, but hewas never quite as cheerful after that. And to be honest, when I saw him happy back then, it was the first he had been so since the dark days with his uncle.”
The what?“He never mentioned anything about that.”
Lilly stirs honey into her herbal tea. She asks if I’d like some and I decline. She taps the spoon against the edge of her cup and sucks off the honey that’s clinging to it. Then she looks around and takes a sip.
“Hm. Delicious. This would be even better with those cookies. But, soon enough. Anyway, what was I saying? Oh yes, about Devlin and his uncle. Did he ever tell you about that?”
“No.”
Lilly nods. “Of course not. It was terrible. You see, after his parents died, Devlin blamed himself. He told me what happened, and he told his uncle, too. His uncle, instead of helping the boy through his grief, decided to use him to make money. He wanted Devlin to help him win the lottery. He expected the boy to perform like a trained monkey, and when he didn’t, Devlin would be punished.”
She shakes her head. “Devlin never told me all of it—but I know there were beatings; he was starved sometimes.”
My heart explodes in sadness and anger. “His own uncle did that?”
“Yes,” she replies, her tone heavy with sadness. “As soon as I found out, I took the boy away, but the damage was already done. Devlin saw his gift as a curse, and when his uncle got ahold of him, those feelings only intensified.”
I could relate to that—kind of. On a very small level. I knew what it was to feel like the gift you’d been given was nothing more than an albatross around your neck. But I didn’t know any of this about Devlin.
And it broke my heart.
“It’s amazing how well he’s turned out, considering,” she says, pushing her rocking chair back and forth. “Oh, I know he’s dated some women, won’t get attached to them for fear of being used like his uncle did to him. But I will say this”—she tips her head to me, and her hazel eyes, Devlin’s same combination of colors, are earnest—“he never brought any of those girls to meet me. You’re the only one that I met, the absolute only one, and of course, I liked you best. Which I would have anyway, I’m sure, even if there had been others.”
“But there have been,” I argue. Why am I arguing?
“He’s a man. Of course there have been women. But he never cared about any of them. Not like he does about you.”
“But he doesn’t?—”
“He brought you here, didn’t he?”
“Well yes, but that’s just because…” My voice trails off because I don’t know what I’m going to say. I have no idea how to finish this sentence.
She smiles kindly and pats my hand. “Come. The cookies should be chilled enough by now. Let’s put them through the crinkler and bake them.” She smacks her lips. “Our tea will taste so much better with a hot cookie.”
It’s impossible not to inwardly chuckle while this sweet old lady takes the reins and steers us back into the kitchen, where she pulls out what looks like a large Play-Doh shape maker that you push dough through a hole.
“Okay,” she says, taking the dough from the fridge. She puts it down on the table and removes the plastic wrap. “Now we’re going to make the crinkles. This is normally the shape of cheese straws, but I like the shape for a cookie.”
She shows me how to load the “gun” and push out the dough. It’s surprisingly fun to squeeze dough through the hole and then cut it. It’s like being a kid, but much more fun because I actually get to eat the final product.
And while we work, I can’t help but ponder on everything that she said. I’m the only woman that Devlin ever introduced to his grandmother? Wow. I don’t even know how to unpack this information.
Not only that, but if I ever meet Devlin’s uncle, I’m going to kick him in the kneecaps—and the balls. Who forces a child into seeing visions so that he can win money? And who punishes that child when they don’t see the future? Devlin was already scarred enough from his parents’ death. Then he was used for his gift. It makes me want to strangle something.
But it also makes me realize why Devlin never said one word to me about his power. Why would he have seen it as a gift when all it did was bring him sorrow?
Holy cow. We have more in common than I ever realized. We were both given powers that we saw as curses. So if anyone understood what was going on with me emotionally in high school, it was him.
Worse, it makes me realize that maybe my feelings are becoming more than friendly. Maybe I actually want?—
“How’s it going in here, ladies?”
