"No problem, I'll take care of it." She turns away and starts working on the woodpile against the wall next to the fireplace.
Oh, she wants to make a fire. "Thanks," I mumble, feeling embarrassed. Then I offer to bring our travel bags from the car and make my escape.
Heaven, what was that just now? Why does she constantly confuse me like this? I shouldn't allow it; I need to keep a clear head and make good decisions.
Good decisions based on real facts. I shouldn't rely on anything else, no matter how tempting it is.
A few minutes later, when I place the luggage on the light wooden floor, my gaze falls on a photo collage on the wall. The blond girl with the Pippi Longstocking hairstyle is definitely Sky. No one else has eyes like that. In the picture, she pretends to be inspecting her friend's dress as the friend twirls in front of her in a circle. She looks happy, which makes me smile involuntarily.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see something move. Sky approaches me. "It'll be warm soon," she says, removing her jacket to reveal a loosely knit sweater with an oversized neckline underneath.
I point at the picture of the two girls. "Is that Lil?"
"Mm-hmm," she replies, standing beside me. "We were maybe five or six there."
"What are you doing?" I ask further because I can't quite make sense of the scene.
She chuckles briefly to herself. "We're playing fashion designers."
Now I have to laugh too. Other kids build sandcastles, paint pictures, or climb trees. Not Sky.Touch av lyxmust have really been her dream all along.
"And who's that?" I quickly ask to push away the strangely warm and entirely inappropriate feeling in my chest. I point atthe woman who seems casually lounging in a chair at the edge of a photo.
She bites her lip and wraps her arms around herself. "My mother."
"You look incredibly alike," I say instinctively, scanning the remaining pictures in search of more photos of Sky's mother. I find some, but she's always on the sidelines of the scene, like an outsider who doesn't belong in the picture. A sad outsider. Odd.
"Yeah," she breathes absentmindedly. "But that's about it."
I turn my head to study her expression. "What do you mean?"
Twitching mouth corners. Watery eyes. A heavy swallow.
My heart sinks. Oh, Sky...
"We probably never had the same interests." She waves her hand dismissively with a shaky gesture.
I should ask more questions, but instead, I contemplate pulling her into my arms. She needs comfort, that much is clear. I shift uncertainly from one foot to the other.
Sky shrugs. "Modeling was her passion. It's how she met Father."
The fashion designer and the model. That's exactly what I've researched too. But one thing I couldn't find out: "Why did they get divorced?"
With a heavy sigh, she reaches for the photos and lets her index finger glide over a picture of her parents. "Because of me."
I can't imagine that. Even though it must be difficult to have a drug-addicted daughter, that can't be the sole reason for a divorce, can it? Can’t it?
"I haven't seen Mother in six years. I don't even know where she is." Sky blinks rapidly, and now I do too. For a moment, I forget to be cautious. I move closer to her and put my arm around her.
"We should look for her," I suggest. That would be the right thing to do, and she's probably easy to find. Who knows what truths might be waiting for Sky with her mother?
She shakes her head hastily. "That's not a good idea." As soon as the words leave her lips, she steps aside, breaking our connection.
"Okay," I say because it's clear that the thought scares her. I look at her helplessly, seeing that closed-off part of her yet again.
What's going on with you, Sky?I silently ask her.
She doesn't respond.
