Page 89 of Chasing Clouds

“Would you hold up? For someone so small, you’re pretty fast,” he calls from behind.

“Oh, is Mr. Wide Receiver having problems keeping up?”

“No.” With that he blows by me, laughing the whole time.

“Show-off,” I call after him, and he slows, turning around, running backward. He’s so handsome with his hair flopping in his face and his eyes gleaming with playfulness, sometimes I feel like I need to pinch myself to prove this is real.

Eventually, we reach the trees and spend the next hour eating peaches, horsing around, and yes, making new memories. We’re both a little dirty, but neither of us cares, and as we lie in the grass and stare up at the clouds, I feel a contentment I haven’t experienced in a long time.

“Didn’t you once tell me you and your sister used to lie in this field and stare at the clouds as they floated by?” His arm is tossed over his forehead as he blocks the sun and stares up into the sky.

“We did, but I think every kid does that.” I pick a dandelion that’s between us and lightly run my fingertips over the white fluffy top.

“We didn’t, Nate and I. There were no fields for us to lie in.”

I turn and look at him as I think about this, and I guess he’s right. Where would they have done this in the Bronx? “Not even in a city park?”

“Nope. Never even occurred to me to lie down somewhere and look at them. If we were out, we were too busy playing sports, running around.” His free hand reaches over and snatches the dandelion from me. He brings it up to his face and examines it.

“Clare and I spent hours outside describing what each one looked like, imagining where they were going, and chasing them as they floated by.”

“You chased the clouds?” One corner of his mouth quirks up.

“We did. She always marveled as they passed over, whereas I always pretended they were taking me with them. She loved our life, and I hated it, but you know this.”

“No offense, princess, but your life was very privileged. You might have hated it, but others would have killed for it—for this.” Using his other hand, he pulls the fuzzy seeds and I watch as they drop and stick all over him. Swearing, he sits up, wiping at them, and I can’t help but giggle.

“I suppose.” I’m not stubborn enough to disagree with him; there’s no point. I know we were afforded things others weren’t, but as with everything, there was a cost, and I paid the price tenfold.

“The paper airplanes,” Reid blurts out, dropping back down next to me, turning to look at me.

“What about them?” I ask as he reaches for my hand.

“Nate and I used to find as many business flyers as we could, and we would fold them into paper airplanes then throw them off the balcony of our apartment. Some would catch in the wind and some would nosedive to the ground, but we always sent them chasing the clouds. We were convinced that one day, one would soar so high, the clouds would reach down and take it with them to some far-off exotic place.”

“See, we’re not so different after all.”

He gives me an incredulous look but says nothing, appeasing me.

Past him, my eyes catch on a slip of pale blue and I freeze.

“Do you believe in heaven?” I ask in a low voice, unshed tears instantly burning.

“Of course. Do you?” He turns to look at me, but I can’t tear my eyes off her. It’s been weeks since I’ve seen her.

“Yes. Do you believe in angels?”

“Honestly, I haven’t given it much thought, but I would say yes, why not.”

“Do you think I’m crazy because I can see my dead sister and she talks to me?”

“We already discussed this.” He studies my face. “But, no. Who am I to say what you do or don’t see? I believe in miracles, and those happen every day.”

“Good, because I see her now.”

Clare smiles, and I smile back.

His eyes grow wide as he turns his head and looks around us. “Where is she?”