of a man out of options. Sarah was there, and he drew into her. This was his time, and he needed to hear it would be okay.
Josie held on to Caroline’s hand. It was just the two of them. The way they had begun. Out of the blue, she smiled.
“You look pretty, sissy. Grandma says Jesus will take good care of you.” She went on her tiptoes and did something she and Caroline had always done. “I love you,” she said, and kissed her sister on the lips.
Josie stepped down from the chair and looked at the sad faces of all the grownups. “It’s time to go.” With that, she walked toward the Suburban.
Somehow, it was the perfect thing to say. They couldn’t stay there forever. It was time to go.
Chapter Eleven
S hiny blonde hair reflected yellow rays of light drifting through the window. Josie sat in her bedroom. A child-sized table and teacups were placed before her.
Isaac came to the doorway and stopped. He observed as she poured make-believe tea into two cups, visiting with a presence only she saw. She had been caught several times over the last few days talking into thin air, like someone was there with her. She spoke to the ghost no differently than a real person.
Everyone took comfort in how well she was adjusting. After all, she was closest to Caroline. They were blood, confidants. They had begun as one egg, sharing the womb. Where two had always been, there was now only one.
To the average parent, the one-sided conversations would not have caused alarm. Isaac, however, was in a heightened state of concern. He feared it might be Caroline she was speaking with, and if so, that Josie was in denial about her sister’s permanent absence. Death could be difficult to understand at eight years old. Neither of the girls had ever lost a loved one. Not even a family pet had passed away. And Isaac thought they should talk.
He leaned against the doorway. “Hey, you have room for one more?”
She was immersed in her serving. “Sure.”
The delicately carved chair set was too fragile for his grown body. Instead, he sat on a stool used to retrieve things from the closet shelves.
“Is this cup for me?” He gestured toward the second place setting.
“No, that’s my friend’s.” She never looked up. Her hands fetched additional dishes from a stack. She placed a new cup and saucer in front of him. “Here you go, Daddy. These are yours.”
“Thank you. Who’s your friend?”
She paused in thought.
* * *
His mother had warned him not to push. “She’s just a normal little girl, having normal playtime and pretending someone is there. It’s no fun to have tea parties alone.” She looked deeply into her grown son’s eyes, really trying to get into his thoughts. “Even if,” she went on, “Josie’s pretending Caroline is there, what does it matter? It’s only been a few days, and it’s probably not even real to her yet.”
He was apprehensive to think that Josie imagining her sister was there could be healthy on any level.
Helen made her point. “Is it real to you? Is it honestly? You’re a grown man who understands death perfectly. She’s eight. Give it time.”
* * *
Josie met his eyes for a moment and then resumed her work. “Umm, she doesn’t really have a name. We’re just having tea.” It didn’t seem to bother her one bit that she made conversation with someone utterly fake.
“Oh, I see.” He took a sip of the imaginary liquid. “Mmm, mmm, mmm. This is delicious. May I have some more?” He acted enthusiastic and closed his eyes in a gesture of the savory blend. His mother was right.
“Yes,” she replied politely. She looked across the table to the place setting her imaginary companion occupied. “Would you like some more, too?” There was a pause. “Okay. Do you want sugar?”
Isaac sat back and drank the second cup slowly. Maybe this is good. If she can’t use her imagination to play, what else is there? She’s a smart girl and will eventually put the pieces together.
Josie held on to Caroline’s hand. It was just the two of them. The way they had begun. Out of the blue, she smiled.
“You look pretty, sissy. Grandma says Jesus will take good care of you.” She went on her tiptoes and did something she and Caroline had always done. “I love you,” she said, and kissed her sister on the lips.
Josie stepped down from the chair and looked at the sad faces of all the grownups. “It’s time to go.” With that, she walked toward the Suburban.
Somehow, it was the perfect thing to say. They couldn’t stay there forever. It was time to go.
Chapter Eleven
S hiny blonde hair reflected yellow rays of light drifting through the window. Josie sat in her bedroom. A child-sized table and teacups were placed before her.
Isaac came to the doorway and stopped. He observed as she poured make-believe tea into two cups, visiting with a presence only she saw. She had been caught several times over the last few days talking into thin air, like someone was there with her. She spoke to the ghost no differently than a real person.
Everyone took comfort in how well she was adjusting. After all, she was closest to Caroline. They were blood, confidants. They had begun as one egg, sharing the womb. Where two had always been, there was now only one.
To the average parent, the one-sided conversations would not have caused alarm. Isaac, however, was in a heightened state of concern. He feared it might be Caroline she was speaking with, and if so, that Josie was in denial about her sister’s permanent absence. Death could be difficult to understand at eight years old. Neither of the girls had ever lost a loved one. Not even a family pet had passed away. And Isaac thought they should talk.
He leaned against the doorway. “Hey, you have room for one more?”
She was immersed in her serving. “Sure.”
The delicately carved chair set was too fragile for his grown body. Instead, he sat on a stool used to retrieve things from the closet shelves.
“Is this cup for me?” He gestured toward the second place setting.
“No, that’s my friend’s.” She never looked up. Her hands fetched additional dishes from a stack. She placed a new cup and saucer in front of him. “Here you go, Daddy. These are yours.”
“Thank you. Who’s your friend?”
She paused in thought.
* * *
His mother had warned him not to push. “She’s just a normal little girl, having normal playtime and pretending someone is there. It’s no fun to have tea parties alone.” She looked deeply into her grown son’s eyes, really trying to get into his thoughts. “Even if,” she went on, “Josie’s pretending Caroline is there, what does it matter? It’s only been a few days, and it’s probably not even real to her yet.”
He was apprehensive to think that Josie imagining her sister was there could be healthy on any level.
Helen made her point. “Is it real to you? Is it honestly? You’re a grown man who understands death perfectly. She’s eight. Give it time.”
* * *
Josie met his eyes for a moment and then resumed her work. “Umm, she doesn’t really have a name. We’re just having tea.” It didn’t seem to bother her one bit that she made conversation with someone utterly fake.
“Oh, I see.” He took a sip of the imaginary liquid. “Mmm, mmm, mmm. This is delicious. May I have some more?” He acted enthusiastic and closed his eyes in a gesture of the savory blend. His mother was right.
“Yes,” she replied politely. She looked across the table to the place setting her imaginary companion occupied. “Would you like some more, too?” There was a pause. “Okay. Do you want sugar?”
Isaac sat back and drank the second cup slowly. Maybe this is good. If she can’t use her imagination to play, what else is there? She’s a smart girl and will eventually put the pieces together.
Similar Books
