Hellhound

If we had decided to run, we could have been halfway back to Boston by the time Gwen had found a place to park; assembled the stroller and wrestled two-year-old Justin into it; grabbed the hand of Zack, her six-year-old; and stormed over to us.

Maria stood straight, but her chin quivered. I dropped my arm across her shoulders and pulled her close to my side.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Gwen’s enraged face looked at each of us in turn, including all three in her question.

“Hello, Gwen,” said Mab quietly. “It’s been a long time.”

“And I had every intention of keeping it that way! I told you to stay away from my daughter. And Maria, you know perfectly well you’re not supposed to talk to that woman.”

Zack pulled away from his mother’s grasp. “What woman? Aunt Vicky?” He peered around Gwen’s legs to see Mab. “Oh. Not Aunt Vicky. Who are you?”

Gripping Zack by his shoulder, Gwen pushed him behind her. Her angry gaze burned holes in me. “I never expected you to betray me.”

“Gwen, you’re overreacting.” I kept my voice level. “Nobody’s betraying anyone. Let me explain.”

“I don’t want explanations! I want Maria to get in the van and come home with me. Now!” Gwen’s shouts were attracting attention; a group of kids stopped their soccer game to stare. The two mothers who’d steered their strollers away earlier now angled them closer. Gwen didn’t seem to notice, or maybe she didn’t care. She continued laying into me.

“I asked you to help me with what Maria’s facing, and the first thing you do is drag her off behind my back to meet that old bag. Well, forget it, Vicky. I can’t trust you. Mom’s here now. We don’t need you.”

“Yes, we do! I do!” Maria threw both arms around my waist.

“Maria, pick up your bike and get in the van.”

“I won’t! You can’t run my life. You think you can, but I won’t let you! Do you hear me? I won’t let you!” She buried her face in my side, sobbing.

“What’s going on here?” Mom hurried across the grass. I scanned the sky but didn’t see Dad anywhere. “Gwen, what’s got you and Maria so upset?”

“Upset? Who says I’m upset? I’m shocked, that’s all. Shocked that I came out looking for Maria to learn that she’d snuck off to meet . . . to meet her.” Looking like a Puritan at a seventeenth-century witch trial, Gwen pointed an accusing finger at Mab.

“That’s not what happened.” Mom’s voice was calm, and Gwen let her arm fall to her side. “Vicky called to let me know Mab was in town, and we agreed to meet here. We chose the park specifically because we didn’t want to upset you.”

Gwen’s mouth hung open, but her eyes narrowed in disbelief.

“It’s true, Gwen,” I added. “Mom told Maria she wanted to go to the park alone. Maria followed her.”

“Gwendolyn.” Mab’s voice was quiet. “Although I was hurt by your refusal to introduce me to your children, I always respected it. We met today by accident.”

“Not ‘always,’” Gwen growled. At least she wasn’t shouting anymore. “You barged into Maria’s dream. The poor child didn’t understand what was going on.”

“She helped save Vicky’s life,” Mab said. “As did you not long after, when I entered your dreamscape to ask for your help.” When my sister didn’t answer, Mab pressed on. “It may be too much to expect that we’ll ever be friends. But surely you know I’m not your enemy.”

Justin bounced up and down in his stroller. “Birdie!” he shouted.

A white falcon perched on the next bench.

“Nice birdie!” Justin waved his arms and struggled to escape the stroller. “Want birdie!”

“Hush, Justin. Here, have some apple juice. Yummy.” She dug a sippy cup out of a bag attached to the stroller and handed it to the boy.

“We’ve seen that bird a lot,” Zack explained. “Mostly at the park, but sometimes at our house. Justin talks to it.”

Justin threw his apple juice on the ground. “Birdie talk! Birdie talk!”

“Enough about the bird,” Gwen said. “The point is, I’m Maria’s mother. And I expect all of you—and that includes you, young lady—to respect my parenting decisions.”

“Funny,” said a voice from the next bench. “That sounds a lot like what I used to say when my older daughter insisted on coming home after curfew.”

“Birdie talk!” screeched Justin, delighted.

“Hi there, Justin,” continued the voice. “How’s Grandpa’s big boy?”

“Birdie Grandpa!”

“Holy cow,” said Zack, giving himself an exaggerated smack on the forehead. “Justin was right!”

All the color drained from Gwen’s face. She turned slowly. On the next bench sat the white falcon, no one else.

Mom stepped forward and took Gwen’s arm. “It’s your father, Gwen. He’s come back to us.”

“My grandpa is a bird?” Zack smacked his forehead again.

“There have been stranger things in this family,” Gwen muttered. She wiggled her shoulders, as though trying to wake herself up. “Dad—?” She cut herself off as she looked around, taking in our growing audience.

“Obviously,” she said, “we can’t continue this conversation here. I suppose we’d better go back to the house. You, too.” She nodded sharply at Mab, then paused. “If you’d like.”

“I’d be delighted,” Mab replied.

24

BY THE TIME MAB AND I ARRIVED AT GWEN’S HOUSE, MY sister had already put on the coffee and set out a selection of Danish on a silver tray. It was how she coped when she was nervous: becoming the World’s Greatest Hostess. The Queen of England wouldn’t have felt out of place seated with us in Gwen’s living room for a midmorning snack.

Which is not to say that Mab was comfortable in this setting. She sat on the edge of her chair, her back board-straight. She balanced a full cup of coffee in her lap. Mab doesn’t drink coffee, but she hadn’t asked Gwen for tea, and Gwen hadn’t offered.

Dad perched on the coffee table, letting Justin pat his head.

“Careful, Justin,” Mom cautioned as the pats got too enthusiastic. “Gentle strokes, like this.” Dad closed his eyes and sighed as Mom smoothed her slim fingers over his head and along the feathers of his neck. “See? Gentle.”

“Gen’le,” Justin repeated. “Nice birdie.”

“That’s right, sweetheart,” Mom said, settling back in her chair. She grinned at Dad. In fact, she hadn’t stopped grinning at Dad since we got here. It was like her smile held him here, near her. Dad watched her just as intently. He couldn’t shape the falcon’s beak into a smile, but his rainbow eyes were alight with happiness.

“Justin, honey, leave the birdie alone now,” Gwen coaxed. “Here, do you want to play with your choo-choo?”

Justin ignored her. “Nice birdie.”

“The birdie wants to . . . um, tell us his story now.” She closed her eyes for a moment as though she couldn’t quite believe those words had come out of her mouth.

“Story?” Justin asked, pausing in mid-stroke. “Birdie talk?” He sat on the floor and waited.

Dad flew up and perched on the sofa by Mom’s shoulder, out of the toddler’s reach.

“I take it, Dad, that today isn’t the first time you’ve talked to Justin,” Gwen said, not managing to filter the disapproval from her tone.

“He recognized me,” Dad said.

“That’s true!” Maria exclaimed. She sat cross-legged on the floor beside my chair. “One day we were at the park, and Justin pointed at the tree and shouted, ‘Grandpa!’”

Zack laughed. “Yeah, and we looked up in the tree and saw the bird. I told Justin he was a silly billy.” He stared at the falcon with round eyes. “But he was right. I guess I was the silly billy.” He dropped to his hands and knees and crawled over to his brother. “Who’s a silly billy?” he asked, waggling his head in Justin’s face. Justin squealed with laughter.

“So here’s what happened—” Dad began.

“Wait.” Gwen held out a hand. “I’m not sure this is appropriate for the children to hear. Maria, why don’t you take your brothers outside?”

“Mom.” The word emerged in a well-practiced whine. “I’m not a child. I want to hear.” This from the same girl who, half an hour ago, had exclaimed in a panic I’m just a kid. Eleven is such a fun age.

“It’s all right, Gwen,” Mom said. “I’ve heard Evan’s story. There’s nothing frightening in it. And I think perhaps it would benefit the children to understand how their grandfather came to his present condition. Leaving them in the dark would only cause confusion.”

Maria leaned forward but didn’t chime in. Smart girl. Gwen chewed her lip as she considered. “I suppose you’re right,” she said finally. “But I reserve the right to stop everything and send the children outside if I decide otherwise.”

“Fair enough,” Dad said, his voice covering Maria’s squeak of protest.

Gwen pursed her lips, ready to cut him off.

“Well, then. Once upon a time, a man wandered into a far-off land . . .” Dad launched into the story of his time in the Darklands, framing it in fairy-tale language. To the younger kids, it would be just a story. To the rest of us, it was Dad’s history.

As Dad spoke, faces turned toward him in rapt attention, I realized that this was the first time the whole family had been together. Ever. Dad died when Maria was a baby. He’d never seen Zachary or Justin. So it was nothing short of miraculous that Justin had looked at the falcon and seen his grandfather. A lump formed in my throat as I thought about how strong the bonds of family could be. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">