he was speaking to his son or to her. “Go on. Say hello to Allison.”
“Hey, Al,” he said, smiling. Allison stepped back away from him so far she’d bumped into Dr. Capello’s legs. She had no idea who these people were, where this house was. She wanted her mother or Miss Whitney. She wanted to be anywhere but here.
“Hey, hey,” the boy had said. He had his elbows on his knees as he squatted, and even in her panic she admired his balance. “Don’t be scared.”
“She’s tired,” Dr. Capello had said. “And probably hungry.”
“Are you hungry?” Roland had asked. “I make a good grilled cheese.”
She shook her head no.
Roland had glanced up at his father as if looking for guidance, but Dr. Capello hadn’t done or said anything. He simply waited like he was watching a TV show, but she wasn’t sure what the show was—The Roland Show or The Allison Show.
“Will you help me with something?” Roland had asked her then. “I’m supposed to read the bedtime story tonight. I need someone to help me turn the pages. Can you do that for me?”
Bedtime story? She hadn’t had a bedtime story since her mother died. Slowly, Allison had nodded. She could definitely turn pages in a book.
He held out his hand, and it was a nice hand, not the sort of hand that she could ever see slapping a little girl for sitting in the wrong chair. She put her hand in his, and before she knew it, he’d stood straight up and swooped her into his arms. It was so sudden, she’d been shocked into laughing. And he’d smiled at her and carried her into the house. She’d clung to him tightly the whole way, pressing her nose to his hair. He’d smelled like the rain. After that, Allison didn’t remember ever crying for her mother or Miss Whitney again.
Allison took a step forward and Roland, the man, not the boy, caught her up in his arms. She felt the warm flannel of his shirt against her cheek and the hardness of his broad chest against her breasts. She was seven again in his arms, and safe again in his arms, and home again in his arms. And when was the last time she’d felt all three? Here. With him. Thirteen years ago.
“I knew you’d come back,” he said.
She looked up at him. “I came back.”
Still holding her by the shoulders, he stepped back and looked at her face, and she wondered if he was trying to see the girl in the woman or the woman in the girl.
“You’re beautiful. When did that happen?”
She blushed. “I didn’t realize it had.”
“It did.” She made a horrible face at him. “Stop that,” he said. He nodded. “Better.”
“What’s this?” She lightly tugged on the chin hairs of his almost-beard. “You going full hipster on me?”
“Not trying to grow a beard, I swear,” he said. “This is what happens when I go two days without shaving.”
“God, you’re old.”
He sighed heavily. “Remind me why I invited you here again?”
Allison grinned. “What are you doing out here? Who needs firewood in September?”
“Ah, you know how it is. We get about one month a year when the trees dry out enough to collect and chop firewood,” he said.
“I heard grunting sounds. I’m glad it wasn’t what I thought it was.”
“Nah,” Roland said. “Now if it had been Deacon...”
“I didn’t need to hear that,” Allison said.
“You and me both.”
Roland smiled and it was a smile she’d never seen before. She remembered all his smiles. As a little girl a little bit in love with him, she’d counted up his smiles and cataloged them. He’d had six smiles. One—that laid-back, lazy, too-cool-for-school smile.
Two—the half smile, bottom lip out in casual agreement, and a knowing nod.
Three—the full smile with the wink of gentle “Dad’ll never catch us in the cookie jar” mischief.
Four—the sudden and slightly insane smile given the second Dr. Capello’s back was turned, the one to trick her into laughing and trick Dr. Capello into asking, “What’s so funny?”
Five—the back-flat-on-the-beach-baking-in-the-sun sleepy smile.
And her favorite, smile number six—the secret smile and a jerk of the head to follow him outside or upstairs. Wherever he was going, she would go, too, even if it was just to the deck to do homework alfresco.
The smile her gave her now was a new one, one she’d never seen him wear before, but it was already her new favorite.
Four hours too late but she thought she might have an answer for the lady at the rental car place who’d asked her what brought her to Oregon.
Maybe it was him.
They sat on the deck in the white Adirondack chairs where they used to do their homework, boards across their laps as desks and black beach rocks on their papers to keep them from blowing away. The front section of the deck was flat with no railing, so they could sit and look at the ocean without anything in their way. The setting sun had lit the sky on fire and the red tendrils of flame stretched from the horizon to the back of the world where it was already night.
“Where is everybody?” Allison asked after settling down in her chair. Roland set his chair close enough to hers that their shoulders brushed.
“Who is everybody?” he asked.
“You know. Everybody?” she said. “Dr. Capello. Thora. Deacon. Oliver. Kendra.”
“I forgot how long you’ve been gone. Kendra and Oliver left the same year you did. Their families took them back. Haven’t talked to either of them in years,” he said.
“That’s too bad,” she said. She didn’t remember them very well but she remembered liking them both. Kendra had been a reader like her, and Oliver, though quiet, had been a sweet little guy. “But I guess they were happy to get to go home.”
“I guess,” Roland said.
“What about the Twins?”
“Deacon and Thora are good. They still live here. They’re with Dad at the hospital tonight.”
“How’s he doing?”
Roland shrugged. “He’s okay for a dying man. He had some tests run today and they wore him out, so they admitted him for the night. Famous brain surgeons get lots of attention at small-town hospitals.”
“I bet,” she said. An awkward silence descended. Allison wasn’t
