“I know. Thanks, Hailey. I’m sure you’re right,” I say, although I’m still not completely convinced. “I’ll call you tomorrow. Good night.”
“Good night, sister,” she says, and clicks off.
When I get home, I go to the bedroom to change from my linen pants and silk blouse into cozy sweats. I sigh as I sit down to look through the binder. I turn the cover and see dividers with their subjects written in Blythe’s neat handwriting: Bridesmaids & Groomsman’s Gifts, Bands, Favors, Flowers, Invitations, Photographers, Venues. She’s thought of everything. As I turn to the section on attendants’ gifts, a leaden feeling descends in my stomach as I realize that the only person I feel close enough to ask to be a bridesmaid is Hailey. In two years in Philadelphia, I’ve yet to make any close friends outside of Gabriel and his family.
The first brochure is from Tiffany and has pictures of lovely bracelets, necklaces, earrings, and charms, the least expensive of which is $300. I don’t make much at the photography store, so it’s all way beyond my budget, and even though Blythe and Ted have offered to cover everything, I want to find a way to pay for this one part myself. There are more brochures from other stores, most I’ve never heard of. The last one features Lladró figurines of bridesmaids, brides, and grooms.
I flip to the back of the brochure, and my eyes are drawn to an image of two girls on a bench, one with her arm around the other’s shoulder. My hand begins to tremble and I drop the pamphlet as a memory explodes in my brain. I’m sitting in a dark room and can only make out shadows around me. I’m next to someone, my arm around her, and her shoulders are shaking. “Shh, he’ll hear you,” I warn her, needing her to be quiet. “Don’t do it,” she whispers, “You can’t do it.” I disentangle myself from her, and then feel around under the mattress until my hand closes around something hard. A gun. I tighten my hand around it, and I hear a different voice, coming from somewhere else, saying, “Kill him, you have to kill him.”
The sound of my phone ringing shocks me back to the present. I gasp for air, pushing a damp strand of hair from my forehead. In a daze, I get up and grab the phone from the kitchen counter. Gabriel’s name is on the screen. I exhale and hit end. I can’t talk to him right now. I close my eyes, trying to recapture the memory, but it’s gone. The only thing that remains is a feeling of rage so strong that before I realize what I’m doing, I throw the phone against the wall with such force that I know before looking at it that the screen is completely smashed.
??5??
Julian
Julian set down the plate of sugar cookies in front of his daughter. He broke a piece from one and popped it into his mouth. He’d followed Cassandra’s recipe, but they still didn’t taste the same. Nothing was the same. Sighing, he grabbed his mineral water from the counter and leaned against the kitchen island.
“Thanks, Daddy,” Valentina mumbled, her mouth full.
“It’s finally stopped raining,” he said. “Shall we do something special?”
Valentina looked at him, her eyes wide. “Can we go to the American Girl doll store? Please?”
He gave her an indulgent smile and nodded. He knew he spoiled her, but she was such a sweet child, and after everything she’d been through, he would do anything to make her happy. “Do you have a particular doll in mind?”
She gave him a solemn nod. “I want a Truly Me doll with green eyes like Mommy’s and mine. And dark hair like we have. That way I won’t forget her.”
It took everything he had to conceal the pain her words caused him. He held his arms out, and she ran into them, hugging him tightly. When they pulled apart, he lifted her chin gently and looked into her eyes. “You won’t forget Mommy, sweetie. I promise. We look at her picture every night before we say a prayer for her.”
Valentina’s lower lip trembled. “Why did she go away? Doesn’t she love us?”
This was something new. Even though they had talked about Cassandra’s disappearance many times, Valentina was precocious for seven, and the older she got, the more questions she asked.
“Of course she loves us. She’s trying to get back to us. You just have to be patient and wait.”
Valentina scowled. “Don’t want to wait. It’s not fair.”
Julian had noticed that her usually sunny disposition had changed recently; she was becoming moody, even argumentative, at times. He squeezed her hand. “I know, princess.”