times.
“How are the twins?” Magnus said, stretching himself for another slice of cake. John beamed. In his opinion, Olivia and Alice were the most perfect beings in the world, with their mother a potential runner up. He felt a flash of guilt at how easily Diane had superseded Alex in his heart, but comforted himself with that it was only natural. Alex was gone, she was never coming back, and he had a life to lead.
“Both of them can sit by now, and I think Olivia tried to say Daddy the other day.”
“Really?” Magnus sounded incredulous, but smiled all the same.
“Well, according to Diane, they can both say Mummy – ask her when she comes over.”
“Oh, I will,” Magnus laughed and extracted a gigantic chicken from the fridge. “We’re having Coq au vin, with a lot of au vin.” He handed John a chopping board and a substantial amount of carrots and shallots.
*
It had become a family tradition, Sunday dinners at Magnus’ complete with white linen on the table, lit candles, wine, and a succession of increasingly more complicated desserts.
“We worry about you,” Diane said once the dishes were cleared away.
Magnus gave her a guarded look. “Why would you do that?”
Diane made an exasperated sound and handed Magnus one of the twins to feed. “You can’t let her go, can you?”
Magnus pulled his brows together; this was not a subject he wanted to discuss, but Diane ploughed on.
“It’s almost three years, you know she isn’t coming back.”
He ignored her, concentrating on the child in his arms and the contented little murmurs she made as she emptied her bottle.
“She’s dead, Magnus,” Diane said, reaching across to place her hand on his arm.
“No she isn’t, she’s just somewhere else, in another time.”
“But she’s still dead,” Diane said. “Even if she’s fallen through to another time – and we don’t really know that for sure, do we? – even then, she’s dead by now.”
Magnus wanted to deny this, but nodded in agreement.
“It makes my head ache. I spend nights trying to unravel this circular reference. How my daughter has gone back in time and died before I was born.”
John came over and relieved him of Olivia, punching him on the shoulder. “Of course it makes your head ache. It’s not exactly an everyday occurrence, is it?”
“Tell me about it.” Magnus poured them all some more wine and carried his glass over to the window to stare unseeing at the darkening garden outside.
April, month of unfulfilled promise, of budding shrubs and exploding greens, month of blue twilights and of dusks that fell like gentle fogs over the ground, month when it was so difficult to be alone, wishing desperately for what once had been. His wife and his daughter – both gone, none found. The loss of them lay like a crown of thorns around his heart, and with every day the ache just grew worse.
“It would have been easier if she’d been dead,” he said, feeling horrible for voicing it. “Now she’s just…gone, and even if I know in my head that I’ll never see her again, in my heart I can’t stop hoping.”
Diane hurried over to give him a warm hug. “You have to let her go, Magnus, you have us, your living family, and we want you to be happy, not always pining for someone you’ve lost.”
“Family?”
Diane hugged him even harder. “Family. Not by blood perhaps, but definitely of the heart.”
His hand floated up to caress her well-coiffed chestnut hair. Yes, in Diane he had a daughter, a girl he’d seen grow at almost as close range as Alex.
“So,” Diane said, craning back to see his face. “Let her go, say goodbye.”
Magnus lifted his shoulders in a helpless gesture. “I want to find her.”
John sat up in the sofa. “Find her?”
“Yes, find some proof that what we believe happened to her actually did.”
“Oh for God’s sake!” Diane shook her head at him. “You have no idea when or where…You don’t even know her name!”
“Of
“How are the twins?” Magnus said, stretching himself for another slice of cake. John beamed. In his opinion, Olivia and Alice were the most perfect beings in the world, with their mother a potential runner up. He felt a flash of guilt at how easily Diane had superseded Alex in his heart, but comforted himself with that it was only natural. Alex was gone, she was never coming back, and he had a life to lead.
“Both of them can sit by now, and I think Olivia tried to say Daddy the other day.”
“Really?” Magnus sounded incredulous, but smiled all the same.
“Well, according to Diane, they can both say Mummy – ask her when she comes over.”
“Oh, I will,” Magnus laughed and extracted a gigantic chicken from the fridge. “We’re having Coq au vin, with a lot of au vin.” He handed John a chopping board and a substantial amount of carrots and shallots.
*
It had become a family tradition, Sunday dinners at Magnus’ complete with white linen on the table, lit candles, wine, and a succession of increasingly more complicated desserts.
“We worry about you,” Diane said once the dishes were cleared away.
Magnus gave her a guarded look. “Why would you do that?”
Diane made an exasperated sound and handed Magnus one of the twins to feed. “You can’t let her go, can you?”
Magnus pulled his brows together; this was not a subject he wanted to discuss, but Diane ploughed on.
“It’s almost three years, you know she isn’t coming back.”
He ignored her, concentrating on the child in his arms and the contented little murmurs she made as she emptied her bottle.
“She’s dead, Magnus,” Diane said, reaching across to place her hand on his arm.
“No she isn’t, she’s just somewhere else, in another time.”
“But she’s still dead,” Diane said. “Even if she’s fallen through to another time – and we don’t really know that for sure, do we? – even then, she’s dead by now.”
Magnus wanted to deny this, but nodded in agreement.
“It makes my head ache. I spend nights trying to unravel this circular reference. How my daughter has gone back in time and died before I was born.”
John came over and relieved him of Olivia, punching him on the shoulder. “Of course it makes your head ache. It’s not exactly an everyday occurrence, is it?”
“Tell me about it.” Magnus poured them all some more wine and carried his glass over to the window to stare unseeing at the darkening garden outside.
April, month of unfulfilled promise, of budding shrubs and exploding greens, month of blue twilights and of dusks that fell like gentle fogs over the ground, month when it was so difficult to be alone, wishing desperately for what once had been. His wife and his daughter – both gone, none found. The loss of them lay like a crown of thorns around his heart, and with every day the ache just grew worse.
“It would have been easier if she’d been dead,” he said, feeling horrible for voicing it. “Now she’s just…gone, and even if I know in my head that I’ll never see her again, in my heart I can’t stop hoping.”
Diane hurried over to give him a warm hug. “You have to let her go, Magnus, you have us, your living family, and we want you to be happy, not always pining for someone you’ve lost.”
“Family?”
Diane hugged him even harder. “Family. Not by blood perhaps, but definitely of the heart.”
His hand floated up to caress her well-coiffed chestnut hair. Yes, in Diane he had a daughter, a girl he’d seen grow at almost as close range as Alex.
“So,” Diane said, craning back to see his face. “Let her go, say goodbye.”
Magnus lifted his shoulders in a helpless gesture. “I want to find her.”
John sat up in the sofa. “Find her?”
“Yes, find some proof that what we believe happened to her actually did.”
“Oh for God’s sake!” Diane shook her head at him. “You have no idea when or where…You don’t even know her name!”
“Of
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