choice.
TWENTY-TWO
Before she opened an eye, Elena felt the heaviness of too much drink. Dry mouth. Raw throat from sitting around with Ivan smoking, and from the harsh gold of tequila. Tight band of discomfort over her eyebrows.
What had she been thinking? Tequila shots?
Soft light bumped against her eyelids, and she cautiously opened one, a little disoriented. Her vision fell on a small square of a window, one in a series marching around the curved wall in a little row like square portholes. Through it she could see, perfectly framed, a long-needled pine tree with a fresh dusting of snow. The sun was shining. Snow glittered.
She rolled over, testing her memory of the night before to be sure there was nothing too awful in there. A blur of Julian sucking her fingers. The sensation of having had sex—but surely not!
No, no. She clearly remembered telling him to go, shutting the door against him, taking a shower and climbing the stairs to the loft where she now slept. Naked.
And she’d dreamed of Edwin again. Dreamed of having sex with him.
She started when she shifted and there was Isobel, sitting cross-legged on the bed, her feet bare. “You scared me!” she said, blinking. Her sister didn’t look the same, somehow. It took a moment to realize what it was—Isobel’s freckles, the beautiful spice on her skin, were faded. When she spoke, her voice was thin, as if it was coming from a faraway place.
“You need to go see Hector’s sister,” Isobel said. She looked worried. “There’s something wrong.”
“Hector from the kitchen?”
Isobel nodded. “Soon,” she said. And then, “Portia likes banana and chocolate pancakes.”
Elena dozed slightly, waking when she felt Isobel lie down beside her, brushing her hair. “H’ita,” Isobel said, “you have to let go.”
“Mmm,” Elena said, remembering the dream of Edwin, the feeling of him around her. She kept her eyes closed as Isobel gentled her hair, easing away the headache. There had never been anyone like Isobel in her life, the giggle, the zest, the joy in living. It seemed somehow right that Isobel’s light could not be so easily extinguished as by simply dying. The mighty vividness of her couldn’t help but go on. “I will,” she said, and drifted off again. When she next awoke, Isobel was gone, and for a moment, Elena was terrified. She sat up straight in bed. “Isobel?” she cried.
Her sister spoke from a post by the window, her back to Elena. “Go fix the pancakes,” she said.
Elena felt the almost-loss in her throat, tears in her eyes. “Don’t go yet, okay?”
Isobel turned, and Elena felt a tear spill out of her eye. “Go cook,” Isobel said gently. “I’m here.”
Julian was making a pot of coffee, with deep morning sunlight falling liquid over his shoulders, when Alvin trotted into the room. The dog paused to be sure Julian noticed him, then headed for the glass doors. Julian let him out, and waited as Alvin watered the scrub by a tree. Steam rose from the snow.
It was a brilliant day, the sky so blue it provided an absurdly vivid backdrop for the snow. By nightfall this snow would be gone, given that sunshine, but it wouldn’t be long before it covered the slopes that were the town’s lifeblood.
The dog came back to the door and Julian let him in, patting the silky head. He really was the softest damned dog. “I bet you’re hungry.”
Alvin waved his tail and accepted a bowl of food, and some water, but after a sip, he was plainly still waiting for something else. He sat politely by the counter, chest up, polite eyes boring into him. “What?” Julian asked.
The tail swept the floor. His mouth opened slightly, showing the purple tongue.
“Oh, I know.” Julian said. “You want your girl, don’t you?”
He panted.
“Let me just make a cup of coffee and I’ll take you up to her.”
“Dad,” came Portia’s voice, “he’s a dog. He doesn’t speak English.”
Curses, Julian thought, aware that he’d had some vaguely shady thoughts about how to wake Elena. “Hey, kiddo.”
She slumped at the counter on a stool, wearing pink flannel pajama bottoms and a giant T-shirt. Her hair sparkled in the sunny kitchen like silver floss. “Hi. I’m hungry.”
“You? Hungry?”
She yawned. “It’s Saturday. I’m tired of not eating all the time. Maybe I’ll go for a run later or something. You have to have energy to run.”
He nodded, wondering what he could fix for breakfast. He didn’t want to go into town, but was there anything here worth