“Three times?” Lucy stammered. She was only aware of two.
Brad leaned across the checkout counter dramatically, resting his chin in his palms. “What Leah is too polite to ask is: Is that your boyfriend?”
“What? No!” Lucy felt herself blanche.
“Brad, someone needs help in the self-help,” Leah said in her most businesslike tone, pointing to an older man waving from that section.
“Geesh. Just making small-talk,” Brad said.
“Ignore him,” Leah told her with a wink. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”
“I’m sorry,” Lucy said quickly. She couldn’t leave just yet, not without some understanding from Leah. “That boy, I’m not sure why he’s here. I’ve asked him to stop coming.” Butinstead of reassuring her boss, this seemed to make Leah’s suspicions plume.
“Lucy, is he making you feel uncomfortable? Because if he’s bothering you in any way, I hope you know you can tell me.”
God, she’d made it worse, not better. “No, no, I know him. He’s just some kid from school. That my sister knows,” she rushed to add.
“Your sister. The one who’s away?” Leah wasn’t prying. It was just a question. But it was the one Lucy had been dreading.
“Yes,” she said, ducking her chin. “I’ve got to run. See you tomorrow.”
An hour later, at Spaulding, Lucy couldn’t stop thinking back to how badly she’d fumbled it all. Ella was sleeping, and their parents were down in the cafeteria getting coffee. That’s all they did here—sit by Ella or get coffee.
The speech therapist had been working with her when they arrived. “She’s going to be tired today,” she’d said in hushed tone, “so she may not be up for much more. But I have incredible news: Ella is articulating.”
Until now, Ella had only made noises and grunts, largely undiscernible. It was maddening to Lucy at times, but it was a small flame in a dark room—there was some measure of Ella coming back.
For the last few days Lucy had watched her parents sit vigil, settling in like sentinels by her sister’s bed. Lucy had taken the seat by her feet. Every now and then she lifted the edges of the blanket and tickled Ella’s feet—it was something her sister had always done, swinging her feet across Lucy’s lap anytime theysat on the couch or lay in bed to watch a show. It brought Lucy comfort to do it now. Each time she ran her finger across her sister’s socked foot, Ella’s focus would swing sharply to her. A small sound like a baby’s laugh would gurgle from her throat. It was the only time Lucy felt like the four of them returned to their old selves.
Now, with Ella’s eyes fluttering to wakefulness and her parents out of the room, Lucy panicked. The therapist said she was articulating. What should she say? Did Ella need her to say something first so she could try to respond?
“How are you feeling today?” she asked.
Ella lifted one shoulder but made no sound.
“The nurse said you’re doing really great,” Lucy told her. “Really great.” But the forced positivity sounded flat, even to her. “I know it sucks being here. We can’t wait to bring you home.”
In the silence that followed Lucy felt her tongue go dry, her mouth like a corn husk. What was wrong with her? This was Ella. She’d never been shy around Ella.
Unable to think of what to say, she retrievedAnne of Green Gablesfrom her backpack. Ella stared out the window as Lucy started to read aloud. She was on her second paragraph when Ella made a sound. Lucy looked up. Hand trembling with effort, she reached across the bed sheets and knocked the book from Lucy’s grip.
Lucy laughed. It was the most physicality she’d seen from Ella yet. “No reading today?”
Ella blinked twice, shaking her head ever so slightly.
“Would you like to hear about the shop?” Lucy asked.
Again, the smallest noise came from her throat. Heartened, Lucy went on. “You would love it, Ella. It’s not just books—it’s seashells in the window and twinkle lights strung from the ceiling. There’s a children’s corner and a huge YA shelf and gifts and a coffee corner. I can’t wait to show you.”
Ella was listening, intently.
“My new boss, Leah, she wants me to run a story time tea party for the little kids this week. I made a flyer for it. Want to see it?”
Lucy reached around her back pocket for a copy of the flyer. She’d folded one of the printouts and taken it to show her parents. The bookstore was the only safe subject any of them could agree on these days. But her pocket was empty.
She stood, feeling the other back pocket, which was empty, too. Where had it gone? Lucy patted the front pocket of her sweatshirt, and to her surprise there was a crinkle of paper. She reached inside and withdrew a folded piece of paper. Only it wasn’t her flyer.
The paper was lined. And folded tightly into a small rectangle, like a note you’d slip a friend in class. Lucy sucked in her breath, remembering. Jep Parsons had tried to grab her sweatshirt before she ran away. He wasn’t trying to grab her arm after all. He was giving her something.
