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Tam nodded slowly, and a small smile softened her marble perfection. “I didn’t mean to dissuade you. It was a compliment.”
“Oh. Great. Well, thanks,” Lily muttered.
The damage was done, though. She had full-fledged heebie-jeebies by the time Edie came back, with charcoal and a large sketchbook. She flipped on a lamp, and sat down on the floor, a few feet in front of Lily, leafing through the pages until she found a blank one. She bent her leg to prop the sketchbook. “Sure about this?” she asked.
“Uh, yeah.” Lily fidgeted. “Do I need to, um, do anything?”
“No,” Edie said absently. “Just relax.”
“Hah,” Lily mouthed. “Right.”
“Look out at the ocean,” Liv suggested. “Think of something else.”
Lily was so nervous, as if bracing for something painful. But the ocean gave her something to focus on. Vast, evocative, and calming.
No one said a word. Edie’s charcoal scribbled, scratched, whirred. At one point, Lily gave in to curiosity and peeked at Edie’s face.
She looked away, unnerved, although Edie had not seen her. The woman’s eyes were lit by an iridescent glow. A trick of the light, shining on her silver gray eyes. The pencil jerked and scribbled as if it had a life of its own. Lily composed herself with effort, looked back at the ocean.
Time passed. An agonizing amount. And finally, the pencil scratching slowed, and stopped.
Lily looked. Edie was gazing at what she’d drawn, looking perplexed. Tam, Sveti and Liv peered over her shoulder, fascinated.
“So?” Lily’s voice was sharp. “What is it?”
Edie chewed on her lip, frowning for a moment. “I have no idea,” she said. “I don’t know what to make of it. Maybe you will.”
Lily rose to her feet, and realized, to her embarrassment, that her knees were too rubbery to bear her weight. She covered the defect by plopping onto her knees and then her butt next to Edie on the floor. Her teeth were chattering. “Let me see.” She held out her hand.
Edie passed her the sketchbook. Lily took a deep breath. Looked.
Throbbing hot-cold darkness rose up, and blotted out everything.
She was lying on her side. They were yelling her name, from far away. Hands, shaking her. Patting her face. Bit by bit, she came back. Edie and the rest were crouching over her, their faces anxious.
“I’m OK,” she croaked, trying to push herself up. “Sorry.”
“Rest,” Tam said sharply. “Lie down. Just rest, and breathe.”
“Let me look at it again.” Lily kept struggling.
Tam shoved her down. “No,” she snapped. “I said to rest.”
“And I said to let…me…look!” Lily sat upright, shoved the woman’s hands away, and grabbed the sketchbook from Sveti’s hands.
It set her heart thudding, but she didn’t faint this time. Same image. Still there. She rubbed her eyes, still not trusting them.
A woman’s face, in her sixties. Beautiful in a subtle way. Strong bones, well cut mouth. Smiling. And her eyes. Oh, God, her eyes. They stared up out of the paper, straight at Lily. Soft with tenderness. With love. Lily covered her mouth with her hand as tears streamed down.
“Oh, my God,” she whispered, rocking. “Oh, my God.”
The other women waited patiently, and finally Tam’s patience snapped. “For the love of God, Lily!” she burst out. “Who is it?”
“My mother,” Lily whispered.
The others exchanged rapid, questioning looks. “Your mother. We never talked about your mother,” Tam said, delicately. “Is she, ah…”
“Dead? Yes. Twenty-nine years ago. The day I was born.” Lily couldn’t tear her eyes from the drawing. “She looks about the age she’d have been now. If she’d lived.”
