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Heat splashed across her face. "Really. "
Rass whistled cheerily and shook his head. "Why is it I feel like Im missing something?"
"Cant imagine, Rass," Mad Dog said, slipping into his shirt.
Mariah let out a relieved sigh as his back was covered. "So," she said, searching for something to say, "did I hear the word clouds?"
Rass nodded. "I was just about to tell Mad Dog about cloud-watching. Its a grand day for it. "
Cloud-watching. Mariah felt a warm rush of bittersweet memories. "We havent done that in years. Not since . . . " Her voice snagged, caught.
Rass gave her a smile. "Not since you were a child. " He turned to Mad Dog. "It used to be one of our favorite pastimes. "
Mad Dog turned to Mariah. "Do you want to do it?"
His words were spoken quietly, with a concern that wrenched Mariahs heart. She looked at him, wanting desperately to touch him, to say thank you for so many things. But all she said was "Yes. "
In companionable silence, the three of them walked toward the knoll alongside the river. As they passed the barn, they saw Jake, painting fences. Rass called out to him, waving the boy over. "Come on, Jake. Were going on an adventure. "
Jake set down his paintbrush and hurried over to the group, falling into step between Rass and Mad Dog.
Rass led them all to the grassy rise and then stopped. "Okay, everyone lay down.
We want to make a cross formation, with the tips of our heads touching. "
The four of them lay down, forming a cross in which Rass lay north; Jake west; Mad Dog south; and Mariah east. In the center, their heads touched in a connecting circle.
"You start us off, Mariah," Rass said quietly.
Mariah closed her eyes. The chilly wind rippled across her skirts and fluttered against her cheeks. As she lay there in the cold, drying grass, she felt herself falling back into the past. Once again she was a child. . . .
They had done this for endless hours, she and her parents; it had been one of their great family adventures, a time to explore hidden dreams and find forgotten laughter.
A tine to share and talk and giggle.
Their heads had to be touching, she remembered, because Rass believe! they could meld their thoughts that way, that within th; family, a magical, timeless connection could somehow be made.
She smiled at the memory. As a child, shed believed absolutely that they could read one anothers minds; it seemed as if they could. But then, as she got older, she stopped believing. Her adolescent mind questioned everything, and her heart began to see the truth. Somehow, in some quiet, intangible way, she was excluded from the circle o; love. Even though her head was touching, she read her parents thoughts anymore. But they could read each others, always.
Thats when shed stopped playing this game. She told her parents it was because she was too old, that she didnt—couldnt—Jelieve anymore, that it was a silly waste of time. It was the first of many self-protective lies she told herself, and them.
She thought that theyd stop playing, but, of course, they hadnt. Theyd played on without her.
Somehow, that had been the most painful part of all. She remembered standing on the porch, watching them walk, hand in hand across the fields, lying down together.
They didnt seem to miss her at all.
"Mariah?" Rasss soft voice brought her back to the present.
She blinked hard, feeling the sting of tears. She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting for control. Gradually the hot moisture dissipated, leaving her dry-eyed once again. She cleared her throat and studied the heavens.
Today the sky was an unbroken curve of cerulean blue, interspersed with puffy, floating white clouds.
A snowman-shaped cloud broke free of its moorings and drifted to the left. "I see a little boy in a bowler hat. . . . " Her voice cracked. Memories of Thomas seeped into her heart, squeezing until it hurt to breathe.
Beside her, there was a whisper of movement in the grass. Before shed identified the sound, Mad Dogs hand curled around hers, warm and reassuring.
Her whole body seemed to dissolve at the comfort of that touch.
