Storms 01 - Family Storms

hanging there with its label still attached. For a moment, it was as if she had forgotten I was there. Then she turned to me, still holding the skirt. After a deep breath, she nodded and said, “I’m being stupid again, I know.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “When Alena was very sick, I went on a buying spree as I just did for you. Most of this,” she said, pointing down the row of clothes, “she never had the chance to wear. I guess buying her new clothes, new shoes, anything, was my way of trying to deny what was happening to her. Here I am doing the same thing to you. I’m sorry. There is so much here that’s still brand-new that will fit you. But I can’t help it when I see something darling. When Alena was gone and I’d go into stores and see things she could wear and that would make her happy, I’d be tempted to buy them. In fact, I did buy some of this after she was gone. I know that sounds crazy to you, but … it helped me get by.”
    “I understand,” I said. I really thought I did.
    She looked at me and smiled. “I know you do. You’re an exceptional young girl and will be an exceptional woman someday. I am determined to make you happy, healthy, and safe again,” she said with such firm determination in her eyes that I couldn’t help but believe her.
    She hung up the rest, and we left the closet.
    “Will I meet your husband tonight?” I asked.
    “No. He’s at a conference in Texas, something aboutnew home-building materials. I’m not sure when he returns. I don’t pay much attention to his work. It will just be you and me for dinner.”
    “But what about …”
    “Kiera is at a friend’s tonight,” she said, almost before the words were out of my mouth. “I wasn’t going to let her go, but I thought it would be nicer if you and I had your first night here alone. Okay?”
    I nodded. Did she know that Kiera and her friends had spent the afternoon at the pool? Should I mention it? I felt funny about spying on them. What if she asked me what I had seen?
    “Did you take a nap, at least?”
    “I dozed off for a while. I don’t feel tired.”
    “That’s amazing. I know the excitement of going somewhere new can wear you out, but I forget how much energy you young girls have. I’ll come up later and help you decide what you’d like to wear to dinner.” She moved toward the door.
    Why was it important what I would wear to dinner if it was going to be just the two of us?
    “Enjoy your new iPod,” she said, and left.
    I simply sat there staring after her. My head was spinning. I looked at the closet, the sitting room, the magnificent bed, the television on the wall, everything I could have ever dreamed of having up until now was there. We hadn’t had very much before my father deserted us, but it still had been sad to leave it. How much more difficult had it been for a little girl to lie here and know she was dying and would leave everything, especially parents who adored her?
    I embraced myself as if I could feel the cold sorrow closing in around me, even in the wonderful suite full of color and warm things. Then I looked at the bed. Could I sleep in that bed, and when I did, would I hear Alena March’s voice, maybe her sobs and cries? Would I dream her dreams?
    I could feel what Jordan March was hoping for when she brought me there, and it intrigued me and yet at the same time made me feel sick and afraid. She wanted to look at me, blink her eyes, and see her daughter returned.
    I wasn’t all that different from her.
    I’d want to look at her, blink my eyes, and see my mother returned.
    Either we’d both be happy or, in the end, both of us would end up blind.

8
Dinner
    I fell asleep again in my chair. I had wheeled myself to the window in the sitting room and sat gazing at the pool, the tennis courts, and the beautiful grounds. I opened the window slightly and could hear the drone of the lawn mowers. Because the house was so high up on the hill, I could see the ocean just behind the tops of the trees. At this time of the day, it looked like blue ice but gradually reddened with the sinking sun.
    When I was eight, my father brought home a doll he had found on a job site. It was in a basement next to a washing machine he was repairing, and he just put it into his tool kit. Although it was old, faded, and dusty, I cherished it, because it was one of the only times I could remember that he thought of me while he was working and brought me something. Mama bawled him out for