full of colorful kites. Fantasies and dreams. Emily’s kites were like none he’d ever seen. He could imagine how they would capture the heart and imagination of a child.
There were unicorns and fairies, a huge butterfly, an unfamiliar winged creature—possibly a product of Emily’s imagination. And there was a dragon, not as big as the one Emily had been flying the day she’d fallen into the ocean, but a dragon all the same, complete with bumpy tail and fiery eyes.
If I had a child, he thought, I’d buy her one of Emily’s kites.
He turned the ornate gold knob and pushed a shoulder against the heavy wooden door. A bell jangled above his head as he stepped inside.
Once again he felt the strange sensation he’d felt upon entering Emily’s house—the sensation of stepping into another world, maybe even another time. But here the feeling was enhanced and made a little mysterious by the heavy scent of fabric dye and damp, ancient wood.
It wasn’t Emily who stepped from the small back room, but Claire.
She looked up at him, not with the hero worship this time, but worry. Her hands were twisting the hem of her shirt. “Emily’s sick, so I’m watching the shop,” she told him.
“Sick?”
“She’s home in bed.”
Claire chewed her bottom lip, as if wondering if she should say more. She stared up at him with her long-lashed green eyes. “Papa doesn’t believe in doctors,” she suddenly blurted out. “Not since Mama died. And anyway, there’s no doctor on St. Genevieve.”
Sonny’s heart thudded in his chest.
Claire’s mouth began to tremble and her huge eyes filled with tears. “I’m worried. This morning when I went in to see why Emily wasn’t up yet she didn’t even know who I was.”
Claire began to cry. “I-I tried to put out her kite like she always does, but the wind kept making it fold shut, and I didn’t want to lose it. Emily has always put out the kite. For years and years. And now I’m afraid if the kite’s not out something bad might happen to Emily!”
Good Lord. Doreen had been right about these people and their superstitions.
Sonny wanted to run to Emily’s house, but he couldn’t leave the distraught Claire alone. He helped her lock up the shop, then she followed him to the harbor, where Doreen was waiting impatiently.
“Here—”
He shoved the folded kite into Doreen’s hands. “Help Claire put this up.”
“What is it?”
“A kite.”
“Are you crazy?”
“Maybe. Probably. Look, I can’t explain, but make them wait. Whatever happens, don’t let the boat leave without me.”
Then, leaving Claire with a bewildered Doreen, he hurried to Emily’s house.
On the way there, he’d told himself that this was none of his business, that he had no claim on Emily Christian. But maybe he did. He’d pulled her from the ocean, hadn’t he? Maybe that gave him some kind of right. He didn’t know. He only knew that he’d spent his life on the outside looking in, and that now, for the first time since early childhood, he felt the need to step in and get involved.
His knock was answered by Tilly. Babbie poked her head out from behind her. It struck him that Tilly didn’t look half as confident as she’d looked the other night. She seemed a little humble and subdued.
Worried. Like Claire.
“Emily’s sick,” she said. “And Daddy’s gone to get her some cough medicine.”
“I know Emily’s sick. I came to see her.”
Tilly seemed relieved to have an adult on whom to relinquish responsibility. “She’s upstairs. Come on.”
Emily’s room was the first on the right at the top of the stairs. The shades were pulled; a lamp near the bed partially illuminated the sheet-draped figure on the bed.
It looked like a scene from a wake.
Fear reached out to him, but he pushed it away. In the glow of the lamp he could see the slight rise and fall of her chest beneath the white cotton gown. He let out a breath in relief.
He stepped into the room, moving to the
There were unicorns and fairies, a huge butterfly, an unfamiliar winged creature—possibly a product of Emily’s imagination. And there was a dragon, not as big as the one Emily had been flying the day she’d fallen into the ocean, but a dragon all the same, complete with bumpy tail and fiery eyes.
If I had a child, he thought, I’d buy her one of Emily’s kites.
He turned the ornate gold knob and pushed a shoulder against the heavy wooden door. A bell jangled above his head as he stepped inside.
Once again he felt the strange sensation he’d felt upon entering Emily’s house—the sensation of stepping into another world, maybe even another time. But here the feeling was enhanced and made a little mysterious by the heavy scent of fabric dye and damp, ancient wood.
It wasn’t Emily who stepped from the small back room, but Claire.
She looked up at him, not with the hero worship this time, but worry. Her hands were twisting the hem of her shirt. “Emily’s sick, so I’m watching the shop,” she told him.
“Sick?”
“She’s home in bed.”
Claire chewed her bottom lip, as if wondering if she should say more. She stared up at him with her long-lashed green eyes. “Papa doesn’t believe in doctors,” she suddenly blurted out. “Not since Mama died. And anyway, there’s no doctor on St. Genevieve.”
Sonny’s heart thudded in his chest.
Claire’s mouth began to tremble and her huge eyes filled with tears. “I’m worried. This morning when I went in to see why Emily wasn’t up yet she didn’t even know who I was.”
Claire began to cry. “I-I tried to put out her kite like she always does, but the wind kept making it fold shut, and I didn’t want to lose it. Emily has always put out the kite. For years and years. And now I’m afraid if the kite’s not out something bad might happen to Emily!”
Good Lord. Doreen had been right about these people and their superstitions.
Sonny wanted to run to Emily’s house, but he couldn’t leave the distraught Claire alone. He helped her lock up the shop, then she followed him to the harbor, where Doreen was waiting impatiently.
“Here—”
He shoved the folded kite into Doreen’s hands. “Help Claire put this up.”
“What is it?”
“A kite.”
“Are you crazy?”
“Maybe. Probably. Look, I can’t explain, but make them wait. Whatever happens, don’t let the boat leave without me.”
Then, leaving Claire with a bewildered Doreen, he hurried to Emily’s house.
On the way there, he’d told himself that this was none of his business, that he had no claim on Emily Christian. But maybe he did. He’d pulled her from the ocean, hadn’t he? Maybe that gave him some kind of right. He didn’t know. He only knew that he’d spent his life on the outside looking in, and that now, for the first time since early childhood, he felt the need to step in and get involved.
His knock was answered by Tilly. Babbie poked her head out from behind her. It struck him that Tilly didn’t look half as confident as she’d looked the other night. She seemed a little humble and subdued.
Worried. Like Claire.
“Emily’s sick,” she said. “And Daddy’s gone to get her some cough medicine.”
“I know Emily’s sick. I came to see her.”
Tilly seemed relieved to have an adult on whom to relinquish responsibility. “She’s upstairs. Come on.”
Emily’s room was the first on the right at the top of the stairs. The shades were pulled; a lamp near the bed partially illuminated the sheet-draped figure on the bed.
It looked like a scene from a wake.
Fear reached out to him, but he pushed it away. In the glow of the lamp he could see the slight rise and fall of her chest beneath the white cotton gown. He let out a breath in relief.
He stepped into the room, moving to the
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