Chapter 22: Larkspur

We moved into Larkspur on a Saturday with two suitcases, a crib and a box of Finbar's lenses.

The house smelled of lavender soap and old wood, the way it always had.

Kylie carried the diaper bag up the porch steps and set it down very carefully.

"You can put it in the hall," I said.

"I'll put it exactly where you tell me."

"Kylie. It's a diaper bag."

"I know." She stood there with her hands tucked in her sleeves. "I'm trying to be good."

"Then take the baby."

She went white.

"Now?"

"You said you wanted to hold him once. I'm in the room."

I lifted Theo out of the carrier and laid him in her arms, and corrected the angle of her elbow.

"Support his head."

"I know how. I watched Palmer do it wrong."

"Then do it right."

She did.

She stood very still in Gran's front hall with her chin tucked and my son's fist wrapped around her finger.

He looked up at her with the flat, serious stare he gave everyone.

"Hi," she whispered. "Hi, Theo. I'm your aunt."

Her face crumpled and she turned it away.

I did not say anything.

Finbar came in behind us with a lens case under each arm, looked at the two of us, and quietly went out to the porch to carry something else.

We ate supper in Gran's kitchen, three adults and a baby asleep in a laundry basket.

Finbar had burned the potatoes.

"It's a smoky flavor," he said.

"It's a fire," Kylie said.

"A small, contained one."

"The smoke detector disagrees with you."

Above us the detector began to shriek, and Finbar climbed onto a chair and fanned it with a dish towel.

I put my fork down and laughed until I had to hold the table.

It was the first time I had laughed like that since before the shower.

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