Moonglass

disappeared—” John Carter nodded. “I did. For a while. But my life was here, and I … even with it all, I couldn’t stay away.” He inhaled deeply and looked at me. “Being here now, it’s greater than the whole of the past.” I felt my throat catch. My dad was silent. He had to be stunned that he hadn’t recognized or guessed that it could be him. Or that he was sitting in our living room.
    Mr. Carter smiled gently. “Seems we all find our way back here.” He shifted his weight forward and put a hand on the coffee table to steady himself. “Also seems heroics run in your family.” He motioned at me with a quick nod. “Your daughter here … she rescued me today. Banged herself up in the process too. You may want to take a look at the cut on her head.”
    Relief, and gratitude, and astonishment washed over me, and I tried not to show it as my dad eyed me, confused. His mouth opened to ask the first of many questions just as John Carter, the crawling man, pushed himself up and stood face-to-face with him, hand extended. I couldn’t read my dad’s thoughts, but I was sure we were struck by the same thing: He was standing.
    My dad stepped forward and grasped his hand a second time, then looked out at the falling rain. “Why don’t you stay awhile? Until we get a break in the storm, at least. I can give you a ride home, make sure you’re okay.”
    I eased myself up. “Yeah, we’ll take you later.”
    He shook his head adamantly. “No, no. You’ve done enough. I will be fine.” Then he looked back to my dad, serious. “It’s your daughter who deserves your concern now. Stay with her.” He said it in a way that somehow forced my dad not to argue.
    He paused, thinking, instead. “Here, then. Take this, at least.” He pulled off his jacket and handed it to Mr. Carter, who nodded and slid an arm into it.
    “Thank you.” Then he turned to me and leveled his eyes on mine. “And thank you, Anna. For more than you can understand. I only hope that one day someone can do the same for you.”
    He slid his eyes over to my dad, who wrapped an arm around my shoulder, and I looked down at a reddening bruise on the top of my foot, not sure of what to say. He had rescued me twice now, and I didn’t have a way to thank him. Tears welled up again, and I bit the inside of my cheek, blinked them back, and nodded, hoping he knew.
    My dad tried one last time. “You’re sure we can’t take you home?”
    Mr. Carter held up his hand and shook his head with finality before he opened the door and stepped out into the rain. We watched as he raised his face to the sky, letting the drops hit his face, then walked away without looking back.
    My dad turned to me, confused and bewildered. “What in the world was that about? What happened? Is your head okay?” He pulled my head toward him and inspected the cut, which had now stopped bleeding and had crusted over. “He was in the water? You helped him?”
    I stood there and let him get all his questions out as I made up my mind. When the questions finally ran out, I sat back down in my chair and looked him square in the face, so nothing could be mistaken.
    “Tell me the truth about Mom.”
    He had been winding up for another round of questions, still trying to figure out what had happened, but this caught him off guard and stopped him dead.
    He craned his neck forward and furrowed his brow, like he didn’t understand what I meant. “What?” I waited.
    “I don’t know what you mean,” he fumbled. Clearly, though, he did, because he went chalk white and dead silent.
    After what seemed like forever I broke the silence I had held on to for longer than anyone should. “I saw her that night, Dad. She left us. She left me, seven-year-old me, on the beach. And it wasn’t an accident.” My voice came out more tired than anything else, and I felt it. “She killed herself.” My dad swallowed hard and looked at the ground.
    “And you knew,” I said flatly. He blinked his eyes shut for a moment, then opened them right at me, and there was no trace of the lightness that sometimes danced there.
    He sat down on the couch and ran a hand over his head before resting his elbows on his thighs. Then he looked at me again with heartbroken eyes.
    “Yeah. I knew it. But … I never knew how much you understood, so … I never … said it.”
    “For nine years?” I couldn’t hide the sudden anger in my voice. “Do you have any idea what that’s like?” The pain in my