Night Road - Kristin Hannah [103]
She tucked the hair behind her ear, feeling the coarse new strands of gray that threaded through the blond—tactile reminders of her loss. As she neared the living room, Miles saw her coming and met her halfway, putting an arm around her waist.
Grace walked into the sunlit entry. In her butterfly-print capri pants and smocked pink blouse, with her corn-silk blond hair fighting its way out of a lopsided ponytail, she looked like a little wood sprite. It wasn’t until you studied her small, heart-shaped face, with its pointed chin and sharp nose, that you saw that there was nothing truly elfin about the serious child in front of you. Like the rest of them, she rarely smiled and laughed quietly, covering her mouth with her hand as if the sound were unpleasant.
Miles released his hold on Jude and went to his granddaughter, scooping her up in his arms and twirling her around. “And how’s my little Poppet today?”
Jude flinched at the endearment. She’d tried to stop her husband from using it, but he said he couldn’t do it, that he looked at Grace and saw Mia, and the nickname slipped out.
Jude saw Mia in Grace, too. That was the problem. Every time Jude looked at this child, the wound reopened.
“I’m good, Papa,” she said. “I found an arrowhead on the beach at recess.”
“No, you didn’t,” Zach said, kicking the door shut behind him.
“I could have,” Grace said.
“But you didn’t. Jacob Moore found it, and you punched him in the nose when he wouldn’t give it to you.”
“Jacob Moore?” Miles said, peering down at his granddaughter through the rimless glasses he now wore. “Isn’t he the kid who looks like Bigfoot?”
Grace giggled and covered her mouth, nodding. “He’s seven,” she whispered solemnly. “And in kindergarten.”
“Don’t encourage her, Dad,” Zach said, tossing his keys on the table by the door. “She’s already looking at cage fighting as her only career option.” He hung up his backpack, pausing for a second at the green sweater still hanging on the hall tree. His long fingers brushed the fabric. They all did that, touched the sweater like a talisman every time they came into the house. Then he turned away and headed toward the great room.
Jude was so removed from her own life that she saw her son from a distance even when he was right in front of her. His blond hair had grown out again; it was too long, messy and unkempt. His jawline was stubbly—his beard grew in some places and not others because of the burn; his shirt was on inside out, and probably had been all day; and when he took off his sneakers, his socks didn’t match. Worse than all of that was the exhaustion in his eyes. No doubt he’d spent last night studying and still gotten up bright and early to make Grace breakfast. One day he was just going to drop where he stood.
“You want a beer?” Miles said to his son as he kissed Grace’s pink cheek.
“I’m not allowed to drink beer,” she said brightly.
“Very funny, young lady. I was asking your daddy.”
“Sure,” Zach said.
Jude grabbed two beers from the fridge and poured herself a white wine; then she followed her men out to the patio.
She sat down in the lounge chair by the barbeque. Miles was to her left, and Zach sat at the outdoor table, slumped in an armchair, with his stockinged feet planted up on the table. Grace walked past them and sat alone at the edge of the grass, where she started to talk to her own wrist.
“She’s still got her invisible friend, I see,” Miles said.
“Ordinary kids have invisible friends,” Zach said. “Grace has an invisible alien friend who is a princess trapped in a jar on her planet. And that’s the least of our problems.” He took a sip of beer and set the bottle aside.