niece opened the door and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I’d dated a woman a while back who turned out to be too artsy-fartsy for my taste, but I did learn a few things from her. We were standing in the National Gallery in Washington one time, in a room full of paintings of women. Most of the women had thick wavy hair and big, heavy-lidded eyes. They looked like they were made of air. You could lift any one of them up with a finger.
“These paintings remind me of my niece,” I told my date.
“Really?” she asked. “She has a Pre-Raphaelite look to her?”
Whatever, I thought.
“I’d like to meet her,” my date said.
We broke up before she could meet Maggie, but since then, whenever I saw my niece, the term Pre-Raphaelite popped into my mind even though I didn’t know what it meant. I would have given my right arm—both my arms—for Jamie to have the chance to see the long-haired, heavy-lidded beauty his daughter had become.
“What are you up to today, Mags?” I asked.
“Studying at Amber’s,” she said. “I have some exams this week.”
I sat down on the stairs that led to the second story. “You can see that ol’ light at the end of the tunnel now, huh?”
She nodded. “You better have my graduation on your calendar.”
“Can’t imagine you gone next year,” I said.
“I’ll only be in Wilmington.”
“It’s more than geography, kiddo,” I said.
She looked up the stairs, then lowered her voice. “How’s Mom gonna manage Andy without me?” she asked.
“Hey,” I said, “I’m not going anywhere. All your mom has to do is say the word and I’m here.”
“I know.”
“You decide on a major yet?”
She shook her head. “Still between psych and business.”
I couldn’t see a Pre-Raphaelite woman in one of those stiff, pin-striped business suits. Her choice, though. I’d keep my trap shut.
“You’ve got plenty of time to decide,” I said.
Maggie swung her backpack over her shoulder. “Do they know what caused the fire yet?” she asked.
I shrugged. “We’re still waiting on results from the lab.”
“You’re in charge, aren’t you?” she asked.
“On the local side, yeah. But once there are fatals…” I shook my head. “The State Bureau of Investigation and ATF are involved now.”
“Oh, right. That guy who talked to Andy at the hospital.”
“Right.” I got to my feet. “Your brother upstairs?”
“Yeah.” She smiled. “Wait till you see his room. It looks like a Hallmark store. Oh, and Mom said don’t mention anything about him writing a book. She hopes he’ll forget about it.”
“He’s still talking about that?”
“Every once in a while.” She clipped her iPod to her lowrise jeans.
“Your mom home?”
“Went for a run.” She popped in the earbuds. “Later,” she said, pulling open the door.
Maggie wasn’t kidding about the Hallmark store, I thought as I walked into Andy’s room. Greeting cards were propped up on his desk and dresser and the windowsills. Tacked to the cork wall he used as his bulletin board, clustered around the charts Laurel had made to keep him organized. What I Do Before Going to Bed on a School Night: 1. Brush teeth 2. Wash face 3. Put completed homework in backpack. 4. Pick out clothes to wear to school. And on and on and on. Laurel was a very patient woman.
Andy was at his computer and he swiveled his chair around to face me.
“What’s with the cards?” I asked.
“They’re thank-yous.” He stood up and handed me one. The front was a picture of an artificially elongated dachshund. Inside it read, I want to extend my thanks. Then a handwritten note: Andy, you don’t know me, but I live in Rocky Mount and heard about what you did at the fire and just want you to know I’d want you around any time I needed help!
He handed me a few others.
“Some are from people I know,” he said as I glanced through them. “And some are from people I don’t know. And some girls sent me their pictures.” He grinned, handing me a photograph he had propped up next to his computer. “Look at this one.”
I did. Yowks. She had to be at least twenty. Long blond hair and wispy bangs that hung to her eyelashes. She wore a sultry look and little else. Well, all right, she had on some kind of skimpy top, but it didn’t cover much. I looked up at Andy and caught the gleam in his eye. He scared me these days. He used to see girls as friends, like his little skew-eyed pal, Emily. Now, he was getting into fights over girls. When did that happen? His voice was starting to change, too, jarring me every once in a while with a sudden drop in pitch. Sometimes standing next to him, I smelled the faint aroma of a man. I bought him a stick of deodorant, but he told me Laurel’d already gotten him one. That was part of the problem. If Laurel would just talk to me about Andy, we wouldn’t be buying him two sticks of deodorant. It had to scare her, too, the changes in him. The temptations he could fall victim to because he wanted to be one of the guys. By the time I was Andy’s age, I’d been having sex for two years and drank booze nearly every day. I didn’t have a disability and I still managed to screw myself up. What chance did Andy have of surviving his teens?
“How about we fly your kite on the beach today?” I suggested.
“Cool!” Andy never turned me down.
Laurel suddenly appeared in the doorway. She had on her running shorts and a Save the Loggerheads T-shirt. Her cheeks were a bright pink. She leaned against the jamb, arms folded, a white sheet of paper dangling from her hand. “What are y’all going to do today?” she asked.
“We’re going to fly my kite,” Andy said.
“That’ll be fun,” she said. “Why don’t you go get it? It’s in the garage on the workbench.”
“I can get it when we leave,” Andy said.
“Get it now, sweetie,” Laurel said. “We should check it and make sure it’s all in one piece. It’s been a while since you flew it.”
“Okay.” Andy walked past her and down the stairs.
So Laurel wanted to talk to me without Andy there. A rarity. I tried to look behind the half smile on her face.
“You won’t believe the e-mail I got this morning,” she said.
“Try me.” I was stoked she wanted
