Their minute was almost up. Long-distance calls were exorbitant, and they’d agreed beforehand to keep them short. Marigold asked one last question. “How’s Dad?”
“Same as before.”
Her chest drew tight. “Tell him I say hi.”
She hung up and peeled off her gloves. Her fingers were moist with sweat, and it felt good to wash them in cool, clean water.
When she returned to the bedroom, her mother was shivering in bed. Helen’s hands were glass-clear, the lines on her knuckles like fine cracks that might shatter at any touch. Her face was watery, her cheeks rippling whenever she breathed.
Med school didn’t teach students what to do when their patients started vanishing into thin air, but Marigold knew. She turned up the heat, and ever so carefully, she tucked an extra pillow under Helen’s head to elevate it, and turned her mother to the side so she could breathe more easily.
Then, when the impossible minutes between Helen’s breaths shrank into seconds, Marigold covered her mother’s shoulders with the blanket and wondered,When did it get so bad?
Part II
The Shadow
Come winter, the star-faced girl was set to marry. She ran to the river as soon as she heard the news and pleaded for her friend the fish to help.
“Take my bones,” he said finally. “Pray to them, and they will bring you far from this place.”
“Your bones?” she cried. “Then what will happen to you?”
“I shall be with the far side of the moon. A shadow until you return what you have taken.”
“I won’t forget.”
She did as the fish bade, and true to his word, she vanished.
Alone once more, the fish did not mourn his lost bones, only his lost friend.
California
1965
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Marigold was nine years old the first time she witnessed her mother disappear.
It was a late July evening. Marigold was sitting cross-legged in the wayback of her family’s station wagon, leaning against the rear window, reading a Nancy Drew mystery as her father drove down Highway 80.
The three Yuen sisters liked to sit in order of birth, which meant Marigold was in the middle, sandwiched between Peony, the eldest, and little Rosie, who were quibbling over what they’d eat for dinner at the mall. Peony wanted pizza, Rosie wanted a burger. Marigold didn’t bother offering her opinion. She knew from experience that they’d end up eating Chinese.
“We haven’t had a cheeseburger since I was born,” Rosie exaggerated. “I never get to pick.”
“You always pick,” Peony said. “We should get pizza.”
“Marigold, what do you want? Burgers or pizza?”
Marigold flipped the page, feeling a tickle in her throat. She cleared it. “Mom and Dad are going to choose, not us.”
“But today’s special,” said Rosie, peering over her shoulder, purposefully blocking her light. “C’mon, stop reading. All the Nancy Drews end up the same, she solves the case every time.”
“Will you cut that out?” said Marigold. “I can’t see.”
Their mother twisted back, bestowing Marigold with her sternest look. “Are you reading in this dark? Put it away, you already wear glasses.”
“But Ma, I’m almost done—”
