10. Ten #2
“Don’t push it.” Miles gave me a look, but there was mirth in his eyes. He really did love being a father despite the grief he got on all sides.
“I’ll have the Southern breakfast,” I said, not looking at the menu. We ate here often enough that I was familiar with it. Mostly. “That’s the one with the fried green tomato?”
The server nodded.
“I’ll have a latte with whatever sugar-free syrup you have, too.”
“Ooh.” Peyton perked up. “I want a latte. All the famous fashion models drink lattes.”
“No, they don’t,” Miles countered as he snagged her menu. “Lattes have milk in them, and models don’t drink extra calories. They starve themselves.”
Peyton looked to me for confirmation, and all I could do was shrug.
“Honestly, I don’t think they would ever be able to eat French Toast Bites,” I offered.
“For real?” Peyton looked horrified. “Maybe I’ll be a designer instead of a model.”
“That’s a solid plan,” I assured her.
Miles rolled his eyes until they landed on me. “So, I tried talking to Dad,” he started.
“Did he do that thing where he pretends he’s trying to catch an invisible fly? He does that to me all the time.”
“No. I tried talking to him about something specific.” He paused for dramatic effect, an affectation he picked up from our mother. “I asked him to explain that whole thing with the resurrection stones — there’s no way he just wanted them as collector items — but he declined.”
The resurrection stones were something of a sore spot in our family.
Heloise, Marie Laveau’s unheard-of sister, had turned herself into a wraithlike creature to avoid a loophole in her crossroads contract.
She’d sold her soul and then wanted to renege on the deal.
My father had been collecting the same stones — he refused to say why, but I knew — and it had turned into a whole big thing.
It was the reason Luc was traumatized, and I was still angry because of what had happened.
“Why won’t he just own up to the fact that he thought he could bring Holly back with them?” Miles complained. “He knows that we know why he did it, and yet he won’t say a word about it.”
“I gave up trying to figure out why our parents do what they do years ago,” I replied, shaking my head when Peyton showed me an outfit. “Nobody needs that many pink sequins.”
Peyton screwed up her nose. “Princess chic is very in.” She sounded knowledgeable enough, but I continued shaking my head. “What if I pair it with purple ballet flats and a blue tiara?”
Did she really think that was better? “Have your parents gotten you tested to see if you’re color blind?” I demanded, not caring in the least how mean I sounded.
“You don’t get it.” Peyton turned her back to me.
“Obviously, I’m concerned, Freya,” Miles continued as if we had been having a serious conversation. “If Dad is living in denial that he can bring Holly back from the dead … .”
Miles and I rarely spoke about Holly. We both felt her loss keenly.
“Holly isn’t dead,” I said before I could think better of it. Saying it in front of Alice was one thing. I didn’t really care if she judged me. Okay, I cared, but her opinion didn’t matter in the grand scheme.
Saying it in front of Miles was completely different.
He snorted, as if I had told a bad joke, then narrowed his eyes. “Hold up.” He leaned forward just as the server returned with glasses of juice and coffee. I took advantage of the momentary distraction and focused on my latte.
“Yup,” I said as I sipped it and smacked my lips in exaggerated fashion.
Peyton wasn’t impressed. “I’m not six,” she said. “You can’t make funny faces and think I’ll be entertained.”
Her mother let her watch way too much television. I was about to tell Miles just that when I lifted my eyes and found him staring at me. “What?” I demanded defensively.
“Nothing,” he said. He was thinking, even if he didn’t want to tell me about what.
We stared at one another. It was one thing for us to gloss over things with our parents. We’d been doing it for so long that we hardly noticed it now. With each other, however, there was always truth. Was that about to change today?
Apparently not, because Miles started shaking his head. “She’s not out there, Freya,” he said in a low voice. His sadness was palpable. “I want to believe it too, that she went off on an adventure and lost track of time. That’s not what happened.”
I swallowed hard but didn’t respond.
“If she were still out there she would have found a way to make contact by now,” he continued. “Even if it was just to say don’t worry. She died that day, or shortly thereafter. She’s not coming back.”
I felt differently. At least I did today. Other days, I slid into darkness and believed, just as he did, that she was gone.
My phone vibrated with an incoming text. Charlie and Jack wanted me to meet them at a house in Bywater in an hour. They didn’t say why, and I didn’t ask. Instead, I fired off a text telling them I would be there. Then I focused on my niece and nephew.
“So, what fun things are you doing with your dad today?”
Miles told me about taking them to the aquarium. The kids told me they’d rather go shopping or play video games. All the while, we pretended I hadn’t said what I’d said.
Miles clearly pitied me. He thought I was irrational to hold onto hope. I didn’t tell him what Alice had said. I didn’t mention the weird dreams I occasionally had. I just let it go.
No matter what, whichever way it went, a fight today would not help matters. It was better to let him think he’d gotten through to me.
At least for now.