his.
“The hardest thing to accept is that we can’t always help the people we love,” she said. She put her hand on his arm, but he drew it away quickly. He was the kind of person who didn’t want to be comforted. When he looked up from his hands, she saw that same petulant rage that she saw in The Burning Girl.
“Who are you to tell me that ?” he asked. He stood, and Eloise was relieved to see Ray pulling into the driveway. “Handing out that kind of pop advice. You should be ashamed.”
“It’s time to let Stephanie go,” she said. “Past time. The trail is cold.”
“I’ll never give up on her,” he said. Really, he was more yelling. “If she’s out there, I’ll find her.”
Eloise hoped that he was wrong. Ray walked up the path.
“Tim,” he said, “I refunded your money, gave you all the information I have found. There’s nothing else to discuss. If you don’t leave, I’m going to have to call the police.”
“Call the police?” he said. “ On me? You two are the criminals. You promise to help people who no one else has been able to help. But you don’t help anyone .”
He raged all the way back to his car, through her flower bed, across the yard. Goddamn con artists, charlatans, posers . Then he slammed the door and sped off up the dirt road.
“How’d he find you?” Ray wondered aloud.
“He’s resourceful,” she said. “Unfortunately.”
“Hmm,” said Ray. She could feel his tension. People like Tim Schaffer—you never could tell what they’d do next. But Eloise suspected they’d seen the last of him. She hoped Stephanie had, too.
“I’m getting sick of this job,” said Ray. He heaved a heavy sigh and dropped his arm around her shoulders.
“Me, too,” said Eloise.
Then she looked up at Ray, and for some reason they both started to laugh.
• • •
Letting go. If you let go, did you then fall to your death? Did you simply drift away? Or was it the other things that floated away, leaving you alone onshore? Weren’t you supposed to hold on to some things—to your loved ones, your sanity, the life you had built for yourself? Maybe that was true wisdom, knowing when to hold on and when to let go.
Ray insisted on making lunch, so Eloise went to work in the garden. The Whispers were loud today, a million voices telling their million stories. Eloise tried not to listen as she pulled weeds, popped off dead heads, watered, and pruned.
Since their midnight conversation, Amanda and Finley were very much on Eloise’s mind. Even though they’d talked a number of times since then, Eloise still hadn’t told Amanda what she’d learned in her research about their family history. There was no reason to frighten her. Amanda had shown none of the early signs that Eloise now understood from her own childhood—the strange nightmares, the knowledge of other people, seeing things that other people didn’t see. But Finley was a prodigy, according to Agatha. When they came to visit, Eloise would have to make them aware of everything. She had tried to protect Amanda. And Amanda had tried to protect Finley. The sad fact was, you didn’t get to protect your children. Not forever. Not from everything. Eloise had an especially hard time letting go of wishing that she could.
When Ray called to say that lunch was ready, Eloise rose and took off her gloves. She surveyed her work and was pleased. She wanted the garden to be perfect for Finley and Alfie when they came. Amanda hadn’t called to tell her they were coming next month, but Eloise woke up knowing that it was so. Amanda would have other big news, too. Eloise wasn’t quite sure what it was. But Eloise tingled with happy anticipation at the thought of seeing her family. She took a deep breath. The air smelled like new beginnings.
That afternoon, Agatha invited Eloise and Ray over for a swim.
“I sense,” said her friend, “that you two need to do something just for the fun of it. And guess what? I do,
“The hardest thing to accept is that we can’t always help the people we love,” she said. She put her hand on his arm, but he drew it away quickly. He was the kind of person who didn’t want to be comforted. When he looked up from his hands, she saw that same petulant rage that she saw in The Burning Girl.
“Who are you to tell me that ?” he asked. He stood, and Eloise was relieved to see Ray pulling into the driveway. “Handing out that kind of pop advice. You should be ashamed.”
“It’s time to let Stephanie go,” she said. “Past time. The trail is cold.”
“I’ll never give up on her,” he said. Really, he was more yelling. “If she’s out there, I’ll find her.”
Eloise hoped that he was wrong. Ray walked up the path.
“Tim,” he said, “I refunded your money, gave you all the information I have found. There’s nothing else to discuss. If you don’t leave, I’m going to have to call the police.”
“Call the police?” he said. “ On me? You two are the criminals. You promise to help people who no one else has been able to help. But you don’t help anyone .”
He raged all the way back to his car, through her flower bed, across the yard. Goddamn con artists, charlatans, posers . Then he slammed the door and sped off up the dirt road.
“How’d he find you?” Ray wondered aloud.
“He’s resourceful,” she said. “Unfortunately.”
“Hmm,” said Ray. She could feel his tension. People like Tim Schaffer—you never could tell what they’d do next. But Eloise suspected they’d seen the last of him. She hoped Stephanie had, too.
“I’m getting sick of this job,” said Ray. He heaved a heavy sigh and dropped his arm around her shoulders.
“Me, too,” said Eloise.
Then she looked up at Ray, and for some reason they both started to laugh.
• • •
Letting go. If you let go, did you then fall to your death? Did you simply drift away? Or was it the other things that floated away, leaving you alone onshore? Weren’t you supposed to hold on to some things—to your loved ones, your sanity, the life you had built for yourself? Maybe that was true wisdom, knowing when to hold on and when to let go.
Ray insisted on making lunch, so Eloise went to work in the garden. The Whispers were loud today, a million voices telling their million stories. Eloise tried not to listen as she pulled weeds, popped off dead heads, watered, and pruned.
Since their midnight conversation, Amanda and Finley were very much on Eloise’s mind. Even though they’d talked a number of times since then, Eloise still hadn’t told Amanda what she’d learned in her research about their family history. There was no reason to frighten her. Amanda had shown none of the early signs that Eloise now understood from her own childhood—the strange nightmares, the knowledge of other people, seeing things that other people didn’t see. But Finley was a prodigy, according to Agatha. When they came to visit, Eloise would have to make them aware of everything. She had tried to protect Amanda. And Amanda had tried to protect Finley. The sad fact was, you didn’t get to protect your children. Not forever. Not from everything. Eloise had an especially hard time letting go of wishing that she could.
When Ray called to say that lunch was ready, Eloise rose and took off her gloves. She surveyed her work and was pleased. She wanted the garden to be perfect for Finley and Alfie when they came. Amanda hadn’t called to tell her they were coming next month, but Eloise woke up knowing that it was so. Amanda would have other big news, too. Eloise wasn’t quite sure what it was. But Eloise tingled with happy anticipation at the thought of seeing her family. She took a deep breath. The air smelled like new beginnings.
That afternoon, Agatha invited Eloise and Ray over for a swim.
“I sense,” said her friend, “that you two need to do something just for the fun of it. And guess what? I do,
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