Luanne Rice by Summer's Child

didn’t want us to go inside, after we dropped her off?”
    “Maybe she
was busy.”
    “Jessie
says her family has a mystery.”
    “All
families do,” Lily said, stitching slowly.
    “Does Dr.
Neill’s?”
    “Mmm,” Lily
said. One mystery was why he hadn’t gotten married. Lily had watched him dating
a little—a female ichthyologist from Halifax, a divorcée from Sydney. But Liam
stayed unattached.
    “I like
him.”
    “Hmm.”
    “You don’t,
do you?”
    “He’s my
landlord,” Lily said. “I like him fine.”
    “But you
don’t act as if you like him. And he’s our friend!”
    “I’ll try
harder,” she said, and her heart caught just slightly.
    “I want him
to come to my party.”
    Lily lifted
her eyes over the rims of her fuchsia half-glasses. Rose was gazing back
gravely—challenge in her green eyes.
    “It’s my party,” Rose reminded her.
    “I know,
but we asked the Nanouk Girls too. We have that no-men rule, you know? We wrote
up that charter, and we all signed it—you too, remember? Our gatherings are
women only.”
    “Can’t we
make an exception? A birthday party exception?”
    Lily’s lips
tightened. She really hated saying no to Rose. Her daughter was the least
manipulative child on earth—when she wanted something, she came right out and
asked for it. The unspoken words between them had to do with the upcoming
surgery. Every request from Rose had a shimmer and a
poignancy to it: what if Lily said no, and it was Rose’s last request?
She shook her head, reminding herself to be a mother—not a doomsday prophet.
    “No, Rose.
It wouldn’t be fair to the other Nanouks. We can save him a slice of birthday
cake. Okay?”
    “Not okay,”
Rose said. She kept digging for a while. Then, leaving her pile of weeds on the
grass, she walked up the porch stairs. Lily shielded her needlepoint so Rose
wouldn’t see, but she needn’t have bothered. Her daughter walked straight by
without even a glance, into the house, screen door banging behind her.
    Lily took a
deep breath. She thought of her no-lie policy and wondered whether Rose sensed
that it had just gone flying out the proverbial window. Because
her reasons for not wanting to invite Liam Neill to the party had nothing—or at
least very little—to do with the Nanouk Girls’ charter.
    Nothing, in fact. Lily steadied her hands and just kept
stitching. The wide needle slid in and out of the small white squares, one
after another, as she tried not to think. There was so much not to think about:
her daughter’s surgery next week, whether she’d finish her needlepoint before
the party, Liam Neill. The warm breeze blew, and the sun beat down on Rose’s
garden. Lily kept moving the needle, trying to finish the picture.
     
    Rose went
to her room. At the back of their one-story house, her window overlooked their
yard, the heathery hillside, and the outer curve of the bay. Standing in her
doorway, she took a deep breath. She began to move. She was walking, yes, using
her feet, but in her mind, she was flying, held aloft by invisible wings, as
hard and clear and indestructible as the cicada’s wing she’d found in the
garden last summer. Circling her room, she touched things—her maple bedpost;
the bureau painted by her mother with fish, shells, whales, and dolphins; the
books on her shelf; her collection of carved whales. Here she paused, making sure her fingertips brushed each one—whales
carved from wood, soapstone, bone.
    She felt
the whales’ power. They were mammals, just like her. They breathed air and
raised their children. Now her wings turned into fins. Rose dived under the
surface, swimming easily with the whales. She felt the water rush over her body
as she swam deeper, deeper … she continued to touch everything in her room, all
the precious things that reminded her of her life, of her mother.
    By the time
she reached the wall beside her bed, her eyes were full of salt water. She
blinked the tears away, gazing at the eight