“I never did thank you for saving my life,” she says.
“You shouldn’t thank me for that,” I say.
After all, I barely knew her name at the time and didn’t even think before using my own body as a shield.
We were both lucky. Anyone who survived that day was lucky.
My impulse now is far different. I’d love to pull her into my arms and cage her soft body, not only protecting her from the world but keeping her for myself.
“I’m thanking you anyway.” Cecilia’s fingertips toy with a ruffled edge of her pink skirt and for a moment she’s lost in some private thought before she speaks again. “Tye is wrong. I don’talwayswear pink.”
“I think you said that already.”
“But I will admit that pink is overrepresented in my wardrobe. We have a complex relationship, me and pink.”
She could be a painting, sitting here in the grass with the hills in the background. The sleeve of her white shirt slips a little and exposes two extra inches of her smooth shoulder.
I want to put my mouth there. Suck her skin. Push my hand underneath that stupid skirt. Find out how fast my fingers get her wet and hear what kind of sound she makes when she comes.
Instead, I pull my knees up and rest my forearms on them, casual as can be. “How so?”
She fixes the sleeve of her shirt and a vaguely sad smile tugs at her lips. “I was the only daughter. My mother tried in vain to dress me in frilly pink dresses but I just wanted to be left alone to wear whatever I wanted. Sometimes this would hurt her feelings. You have your ways of honoring your mother. This is how I honor mine, by wearing her favorite color.”
A few feet away, Tye starts snoring while cuddled up with his pink sweater pillow. The guy could fall asleep in the middle of a hurricane.
“Tragedy changes you,” I say. “Especially when it’s brutal.”
She stares at me like I’m a puzzle with some pieces that won’t fit. “Yes, it does. Matthias became a completely different person. Losing our parents and the girl he loved just destroyed him. He changed so much that he became a stranger. But you understand. I’m sure you miss your mother terribly.”
The thought never enters my mind in such simple terms. Teresa’s absence is an infinite void lined with pain and jagged edges. To my brothers, who mostly don’t remember her, and to my father, who remains tormented, she’s become a legend, an idealized myth.
“We all miss her,” I say. A sentence that’s both true and too basic.
Cecilia nibbles at a corner of her lower lip. “Teresa was killed here at the ranch, wasn’t she?”
“Not in the house,” I say, noting the way Cecilia glances behind her like she’s concerned she’ll wake up at night and find my mother’s ghost sitting on the edge of her bed.
She waits for me to say more about my mother’s death. I don’t.
Cecilia gives up with a sigh and tries a different question. “Is she buried in town?”
“She’s buried on the ranch,” I say and point. “A quarter of a mile beyond that hill there’s a cluster of cottonwood trees. The rest of us visit but my father doesn’t.”
She stares at the hill I pointed to. “Will we be going there today?”
“No.”
Again, she waits for me to fill in the blanks after that abrupt answer.
Tye’s snoring grows louder.
Her fingertips casually touch the charm hanging from a chain around her neck. It’s a flat, rectangular piece of gold and the etched details are too far away for me to see them clearly. She notices the way I’m staring and immediately tucks the charm inside her shirt.
“Why am I here, Julian?” she asks.
The question sounds like a rhetorical one. I don’t answer those. She knows why she’s here.
Cecilia sighs over my silence. “Yes, I’m aware I’m here of my own free will because you have the power to save my brother’s life. But why doyouwant me here? That’s what I can’t figure out. Do you guys seriously have trouble finding women?”
