and the unhappy years we’ve shared
will be a distant memory
that we’ll laugh about when we’re old.
Lily’s body grew soft against me, sleep easing away the worried pinch in her brow.
I pressed a kiss on her forehead.I was sent here to be with you,I thought fondly. I would protect this girl the way Mama had protected me. I’d love her the way her own mother wouldn’t.
Heavens help me, I would get the two of us out of here. I just had to grow up first.
Pacific Ocean
1980
Marigold
After lunch, Helen rose to use the bathroom.
“I’ll come with you,” said Marigold. “I need to go, too.”
“Go after I come back. Someone has to watch our bags.”
“Mom, I promise our bags will be safe.”
Helen didn’t look so sure. She picked up her purse by the strap and slung it over her shoulder.
The plane was quiet. Half the passengers were asleep, the other half expectantly waiting forSupermanto begin. As Marigold and Helen made their way down the aisle, an elderly Chinese man rose to speak to Helen.
“You look so familiar,” he said, clasping her hand. “I’ve seen you somewhere before. I can’t place it, but I know I have. Were you by chance a—”
“No.” Helen jerked her arm back. “Never.”
“But I could have sworn—”
“I’m no one.”
Agitated, Helen pressed forward, not stopping until she reached the lavatories. The encounter had clearly distressed her. Her fingers were shimmering again, losing color.
“Breathe,” Marigold said, taking her mother by the shoulders. Even through her gloves, she could feel the goosebumps rising on Helen’s skin. She was cold, too cold.
Stumbling, Helen slumped against the wall.
Pamela and another attendant rushed to help, lowering her mother to the floor and grabbing a duffel labeled First Aid Kit. Their efforts would be futile, Marigold knew. No amount of aspirin or CPR would revive her mother. Thinking fast, she hurried into the galley for a cup of hot water and splashed it over Helen’s head.
Gasping, Helen jerked awake.
“What happened?” she asked, alarmed to see herself surrounded by crew. Shakily, she got up. Her skin was nearly translucent, to the point that Marigold could make out the red carpeting underneath.
“Ma’am, your face!” cried Pamela. “It’s—”
“What?” Helen whispered.
From the woman’s shock, Marigold could tell exactly what she’d seen. What several of the now clustered attendants were seeing.
She felt the color drain from her own face. That nauseous churning in her stomach vanished, replaced by a cold clench of fear.
“Never mind, ma’am,” Pamela said hastily, as depth returned to Helen’s skin. “I must have...” She cleared her throat. “May I escort you back to your seat and get you something to drink?”
