like it.”
A trill of pride lit Ellen’s heart. “That’s good to know. I’m just not sure about her job. The Doves are… well, they’re different. Maybe if she worked somewhere else—”
“Mom, stop it!” Julie’s smile was long gone. “There’s nothing wrong with the Doves. And Kristen’s job has been the saving of her. Working for Ava forced Kristen out of her shell. Before she started working there, she was painfully shy. She kept to herself, and not just at home, but at school, too. She only has two friends—just two. Now she knows almost everyone in town. When she walks down the street, people speak to her, and she waves and smiles back.” Julie’s expression softened. “Her job has given her confidence. She needed that.”
Maybe. Ellen thought about the pamphlets she’d brought with her of the private schools she’d thought would welcome Kristen. They were filled with colorful pictures of happy, healthy, cheerful students, none of whom had purple hair or nose studs. “Kristen could get the same thing from an academically rigorous, culturally enriching school. If she’d just—”
“Mom, no. Kristen is getting all the cultural enriching she needs right here in Dove Pond.”
Ellen couldn’t have disagreed more. While she was sure there were some good things to be said about living in a small, backwoods place like Dove Pond, nothing could match the carefully constructed benefits offered by a premier private school.
Julie rolled her eyes. “Bullshit.”
Ellen’s jaw tightened. “Stop reading my mind!”
A half hour ago, she’d wanted nothing more than to talk to her daughter. But now… she struggled to calm her thoughts. If I’m going to dream about Julie, I might as well make it better than real life. Fewer arguments. Less anger. More understanding. More connecting. For a horrible minute, Ellen remembered the last argument she and Julie had had, the terrible things they’d both said, their anger striking each other like flint against a stone. I don’t want that again. Never again.
“Mom.” Julie’s expression had softened. “That’s what I want too. And I’m just as worried about Kristen as you are. She’s really, really sad.”
Ellen nodded. “She’s not sleeping well.”
“I know.” Julie’s expression was somber. “I come to see her all the time. I know she’s suffering. I can feel it.”
“She’s going to hurt, Julie. She’s going to grieve.”
Julie’s bright blue light visibly dimmed. “I hate that.”
“So do I.”
They were quiet a minute, commiserating on their one common heartache.
Julie sighed. “I miss her. It’s hard to know your daughter is alive and going through her life, but you aren’t there and won’t ever be, even when she needs you.”
Ellen raised her eyebrows and said drily, “I can’t imagine what that’s like.”
Julie looked at her with surprise. After a moment, her mouth formed an O. “I guess I did do that to you when I ran away, didn’t I?”
Ellen nodded.
“I never realized how you must have felt, how worried you must have been. It just never dawned on me.” Julie winced. “I’m sorry.”
The words, so simple, hung in the room between them.
Ellen pressed her lips together to stop them from trembling. When she could, she said, “Thank you.”
Julie’s eyes glistened with tears. “I wish I had time to explain what I was going through, but we need to talk about Kristen. I don’t know how long I’ll be here.”
“Dreams don’t last forever,” Ellen agreed, saddened by the thought. Suddenly chilly, she tugged her robe closer. “What can I do to help Kristen? Just tell me, and I’ll do it.”
Julie’s gaze rested on Ellen’s face. “You like her.”
“I love her.”
“Of course you do,” Julie said, instantly impatient. “She’s your granddaughter. But you also like her. When you add that to love, it’s special.”
“She’s a good person. And kind too.”
Julie nodded, tucking a strand of her unruly hair behind one ear.
Ellen noticed the stains on Julie’s fingers. “Your hands… what’s that?”
“It’s paint.” Julie held up her hands and eyed them as if she were admiring a recent nail job. “When you die, you get to carry reminders of who you once were.”
Ellen wondered what reminder she’d have. Perhaps a handheld laser distance meter would shine out of one ear. Lovely.
Julie snorted. “I’d pay good money to see that. Or I would if I had money. They don’t use it here, so…”
“Where is ‘here’?”
“If you’re asking if I’m in heaven or hell, I’m not telling.” Julie’s grin broadened. “But let’s just say I’m glad to be here.”
“With you, that could mean either place.”
Julie’s laugh rang out once more. “So it