“I disagree,” she says. “I think there’s more than one kind of love. I think Dad has found another kind, and maybe that’s okay.”
It’s a wise thing for Mae to say, and it may even be true, and these things make Jordan even more angry, just the way the rush of feelings when she saw Kara made her feel confused. “Well, there shouldn’t be,” she spits. “There should only be one.”
From the upper deck, the one outside the primary bedroom, Kara sneezes.
Natalie offers to make dinner for everyone and disappears into the kitchen with Caspian. Mae goes in search of Leo, who’d been so tired from the airport adventure that he’d conked out in the sunroom.
This is where she finds Evangeline sitting on the couch. Her spine is as straight and her bearing is as pleasing as a debutante’s. In front of her are two sleeping dogs. Cinnamon lies on her left side and Leo on his right. Cinnamon’s black lip is trembling with each exhale. Neither wakes when Mae comes in.
“Shhh.” Evangeline lifts a finger to her lips, so Mae does an exaggerated tiptoe over to her and sits beside her on the couch. This is what she likes about being an aunt: being able to do silly things like exaggerated tiptoes and getting a good satisfying laugh from her audience.
“How long have you been sitting here?” she whispers.
“Awhile. Leo woke up when Cinnamon came in, then I sang them to sleep.”
“You did? What’d you sing?”
“?‘Tomorrow.’ FromAnnie.” Without shame or embarrassment Evangeline opens her mouth and unleashes a verse: “When I’m stuck...” Her voice is high and clear and lovely, perfectly in tune, and Mae is mesmerized. None of the Shipman girls can sing. Where did Evangeline get this voice? Can Austin sing? She thinks back to Natalie and Austin’s wedding at the Wentworth by the Sea hotel. She has a vague memory of Austin holding a microphone, but that’s it. It had been a giant party of a wedding, and everyone had beentipsy or downright drunk, Mae included. “They settled down, and then they fell asleep.”
“Amazing,” says Mae, legitimately impressed. “Look at how they’re lying. See? When a dog lies on his side like that it means he’s completely relaxed. Dogs don’t go into that position unless they feel really safe and protected. You’re officially hired as my assistant dog trainer!”
“Really?”
“Definitely. Unfortunately, it’s an unpaid position. But it’s prestigious.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Important.”
“Okay.”
Then she asks Evangeline if she can video her singing to the dogs. She imagines sending the video to Human Leo, showing him how relaxed Leo is around another dog, how well cared for he is during his week with Mae.
“Okay,” says Evangeline.
“I won’t post it or anything. I might just send it to Leo’s owner.”
“I thought you were Leo’s owner.”
“Alas, I am not. I’m just Leo’s trainer for the week.”
“And then what?”
“And then I have to give him back to his real owner.”
“Are you sad to do that?”
“I am. I’m very sad to do that.” Again comes the pull on her heart.
Evangeline repeats the verse, and Mae captures it. “You can post it if you want.” Is there something world-weary in this, or has Mae imagined it?
Evangeline leans against Mae like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Her hair smells like strawberry shampoo and her hand is just a little sticky. Is this motherhood? wonders Mae. This deep andabiding sense of peace, the connection with another person—is this it? Could she do it one day?
She remembers Natalie’s all-consuming fatigue the summer she was pregnant with Scarlett and Evangeline was still so little. Mae had stayed on the farm with the family for two weeks. She remembers how Natalie had to keep dragging herself from task to task because, well, she had no choice. To the barn, to the house, the crib, the kitchen. “Go rest,” Mae had told her. “That’s why I’m here.” Natalie had said, “This is resting.”
“I have to tell you something,” whispers Evangeline.
“I’m all ears.”
