The Forgotten Ones

you know that most days she doesn’t say more than ten words? And on those off days, she rants and screams your name?” I took a deep breath, my chest heaving with emotion. I had been going for cool and indifferent, but, his innocent act set me off. I couldn’t even look at him. “Is that what you wish you didn’t know?”
    “Won’t you let me see her?” he pleaded, his fingers still laced in his hair. “I have loved your mother all these years. I know this is my fault, believe me. There was nothing I could do, but I would have done anything...” His voice trailed off, and there was a faraway look in his eyes.
    I was at a complete loss. How could he just show up twenty-two years after tearing my mother’s heart apart? How could he stand here, claiming to love her in one breath, and yet say he was helpless to do anything about it in the next?
    “Let me guess—you were married, with a kid or two already. I bet the American student and her illegitimate baby didn’t fit well in the family portrait, right?” My hands clenched into fists.
    Liam laughed then, but it was a cold, terrible laugh. His face clouded over, and for a moment I regretted speaking to him so harshly. I didn’t know this guy. I had no idea what he was capable of.
    For what must have been the longest two minutes of my life, he didn’t say anything. He didn’t even look at me, just stared off into space. His eyes were hard and shiny, like marbles, glistening with unshed tears.
    “No, I was never married,” he finally answered. “I wish it were so simple.”
    He looked directly into my eyes then, and for a moment I couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Questions tumbled through my mind, but there were so many that I had no way of knowing where to begin. I opened my mouth to ask what he meant, but he spoke first.
    “I will find a way to undo what has been done, or I will die trying.” He took two steps back. “I understand your anger. You’re completely justified. But know this—you will see me again.” He nodded curtly and strode down the front walk. Just like that.

    I didn’t have to work on Sunday, but I almost wished I had, if only for the distraction. The sky was bright blue as I stepped back out onto the front porch, and I could hear the chords from “Drowsy Maggie” floating out from the den. My mother hadn’t played such a peppy tune on her violin in years. I sat on the top step with an ice-cold glass of lemonade, tapping my foot to the melody. Uncle David had mowed that morning, too, so the smell of freshly cut grass added to the illusion of a perfect summer day. Puffy clouds moved swiftly through the sky, matching the speed of the thoughts passing through my mind.
    I couldn’t bring myself to tell Gram and Pop about Liam showing up. Every time I considered it, I pictured Liam’s face—he was so… young . Something about him didn’t sit right. It wasn’t just that he spoke in riddles. It was that his face hadn’t changed a bit from the photo strips my mom clung to when I just was five years old.
    No. I did the right thing, I encouraged myself. They had enough to deal with, and something told me I should keep his arrival to myself.
    I took a sip of my lemonade and looked around the yard. There were no signs of the fighting black birds, at least. It was actually a peaceful day. It was warm but not as hot as it had been the past week. I stretched my legs out and leaned back on my hands, letting the sun warm my face.
    My mother’s music danced through my head. When I was a very little girl, she would let me choose the music she’d play. I always loved the fast tunes like “Drowsy Maggie.” I would watch her bite her bottom lip in concentration as she moved through each piece. She withdrew completely when I was around seven years old, though, and I missed turning the sheet music for her and dancing along to the reels.
    I opened my eyes, and lights sparkled across my vision. I looked down, letting my eyes adjust. Once I could see normally I stood, figuring I should probably do a load of laundry before Gram had a chance to do it for me. But to my left, I saw a twinkling silver light. I turned to walk up the stairs, and sure enough, the same light caught my eye, even when I faced the house.
    I remembered Gram would sometimes hang aluminum pie plates near her vegetable garden to keep the birds away. I must have not been paying attention when I walked past her gardens—surely she had put some out.
    The