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“Tell me,” Larry begged. “What’s his name?”
“His name is Adam.” Anna’s throat swelled. “He’s gorgeous, with a full head of black hair and Dean’s eyes. He was born almost a month ago.”
Larry sounded like he was crying. Anna closed her eyes, but a single tear escaped and traced its way to her chin. Death seemed like an impossible darkness. They were all carrying Dean’s in their own, messy way.
“Will you send me a photograph?” Larry finally managed.
“Of course,” Anna whispered. “I’ll send you as many as you like.”
Larry gasped and laughed into the phone. “I’m sorry. I’m all over the place.”
“I don’t blame you at all. This is a lot to hear.” Anna rubbed her temple and urged herself to be brave, to ask what she’d called about. “And you know, of course, that Violet is here?”
“Oh. Is she?” Larry’s voice narrowed to a string, proof of his guilt. “No, I didn’t know. Last I heard, she was staying out in the apartments by the mall. I hadn’t checked in on her recently.” He sniffed. “I meant to. I meant to do a lot of things.”
Anna’s chest ached. She imagined Violet alone in a shoddy apartment by the mall—rising in the morning and going to bed at night as her husband carried on without her.
“Do you mind if I ask”—Anna hesitated—“what happened?”
Larry sighed again. “We separated shortly after Dean passed away. I couldn’t pretend to be happy in that marriage anymore, and I assumed she felt the same way. Anyway, she packed up her things and left. We signed the divorce papers in autumn. But we didn’t even have to see each other to end the marriage officially. Isn’t that wild? That you can have an entire life with someone and finalize its ending through an anonymous lawyer with halitosis?”
Outrage and pity formed a storm in Anna’s heart. Larry’s words, “I couldn’t pretend to be happy in that marriage anymore,” swirled in her mind. Hadn’t he considered Violet’s feelings once?
Dean would have been wild with anger. He would have demanded more of his parents. He’d had a brilliant moral compass. He’d loved harder than most.
“I’m with someone else now,” Larry explained. “We’re selling the house and moving to Florida.”
“Oh. Florida.” Anna’s voice was limp. She fought her urge to hang up the phone.
“Maybe we can visit you and Adam sometime this summer,” Larry suggested. “Although, if you say he has Dean’s eyes, I don’t know if I can take it. The memories are still painful.”
After Anna got off the phone with Larry, she wrapped Adam to her chest and wandered through The Copperfield House like a ghost. With most everyone gone, the only sound she heard was Greta typing away in her office. When she passed through the door between the residency and the family house, she discovered the kitchen echoing, the halls filled with shadows. A knock on Smith’s door revealed nothing.
Anna walked tentatively downstairs with her hand wrapped around Adam’s head. Ever since the night on the back porch with Smith, when they’d shared beers, she and Smith had hardly gone a day without seeing one another. His “baby whisperer” status in her life had only elevated. He’d even taught her a trick or two to handle Adam’s gas, his anxious cries, and his fatigue. Only once had he hinted why he knew all this. Something about a “brother.” Something about “the only person who’d ever really loved him.”
Despite the tension between them, their conversations, and similar wavelengths, Anna was still not sure how to categorize their relationship. Scarlet insisted it was romantic, and Anna insisted it was bigger than that. “You need to kiss him already,” Scarlet teased. “Get it over with.” But Anna was frightened that kissing would ruin the beautiful understanding between them. She didn’t want to scare him away.
“I don’t know if I’ll ever manage to have normal relationships with people,” Smith had said more than once, alluding to his horrific past. “I might be too damaged.”
Anna had decided to take this as a warning sign. Smith didn’t want anything with her. And that had to be okay.
Just before Anna slipped back into the family half of the house, she heard the door open and scream shut. A dog huffed through the house, appearing around the corner and smiling up at her.
“Luka!” she said as he galloped closer.
Smith appeared in the hallway immediately after. His cheeks were ruddy, and he tugged his winter hat from his head to reveal sloppy black curls. In his left hand, he carried a large bouquet—roses and lilies and baby’s breath. Anna’s heart seized.
“What are those?” Anna asked.
“What do they look like?” Smith teased. He stopped a few feet away from Anna and twirled the bouquet in his hands. “Don’t you read the calendar?”
Anna’s heart pounded. Due to the nature of giving birth and caring for a brand-new baby, she found it difficult to keep track of dates and times. It was as though she floated through time and space.
And then, it hit her. “Is it Valentine’s Day?”
Smith smiled, and his dimples deepened. He passed the bouquet foolishly, wearing an expression that was difficult to read. If Anna had to guess, she’d say he’d never bought anyone flowers before. Her cheeks burned with the intensity of his eyes.
“They’re beautiful,” Anna whispered.
