in the storage closet in Dad’s workshop. It’s almost like my parents were trying to hide it from me.”
The way Ty is watching me, like he’s sort of impressed but also a little freaked out, makes me feel self-conscious. Exposed.
I cross my arms. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I’m trying to understand how you can have such an amazing ability and not even know it.” He holds the violin out to me. “Once more, okay? Pay attention this time.”
My first instinct is to refuse. But then Iris’s heat permeates my skin and her breath tickles my eardrum as she whispers, Please try. I need to feel the music again.
I look down at the violin and I understand her request. I need to feel the music flow through me, too.
This time, I don’t drift away on the notes that bleed from my fingers, I weep along with them. Without even trying, I’m playing the music box song, the lullaby that Iris sang on nights during my childhood when I couldn’t sleep.
As the last note drifts into silence, Iris breathes, I remembered something. Help me . . . what did they do?
Panic as cold as windblown snow flutters through me. I open my eyes. Who is Iris talking about? What does she mean? She wouldn’t have memories separate from mine.
Unless she used to be alive . . .
I avoid Ty’s gaze as I stand, return the violin and bow to the case, then run my fingertips across the wood. I have the strongest urge to play it one more time, but I’m afraid to experience those powerful emotions again. I’m afraid of what Iris might be remembering.
I pull my hand back and close the lid, setting the case on the floor beside the couch. “Please take it out of here,” I say. “Put it in my dad’s workshop.”
Ty takes hold of my hand and doesn’t let go until I sit down beside him. “You have an amazing gift,” he says. “Don’t be afraid of it.”
“It’s not playing that scares me,” I say. “It’s the fact that I can. I must be a freak!”
“No.” Ty shakes his head, and his voice is tender as he says, “You’re a miracle.”
His words take me back to the morning of my birthday. As Dad and I watched the sunrise, he said the same thing: You can’t even imagine what a miracle you are.
A miracle? More like an aberration. Having Iris in my life isn’t normal. She isn’t normal. Which means I’m not, either, and I just proved it.
Is my musical “gift,” as Ty called it, the secret Dad was going to tell me on the morning of my birthday? Did he know about it? Did he know about Iris? Does Mom?
Ty wipes a tear from my cheek with his fingertip, then leans forward and kisses me softly. The next thing I know I’m kissing him, too, clinging to him, clutching the fabric of his sleeves. But I draw back and shove Ty away when I hear footsteps on the porch. I shift to see the door and find Wyatt standing on the other side of the screen, watching us with a wounded look on his face.
“Wyatt!” I shoot to my feet as Ty scoots to the opposite end of the couch.
Without saying a word, Wyatt turns and starts down the stairs again.
I run to the door. “Come back!” I shout.
But he keeps walking.
Ty sits on the couch, watching me pace as I try to reach Wyatt on his cell.
“Shouldn’t he be in school?” Ty asks.
“It’s a short week for seniors,” I tell him.
“I don’t understand why you’re so upset that he saw us.”
Wyatt isn’t answering, so I put my phone in my pocket. “I don’t want to hurt him.”
Ty cocks his head. “You sure it’s not more than that?”
The concern in his voice brings tears to my eyes. I stop pacing and look down at him. “Does it matter? I mean, you’re leaving soon. We won’t see each other again.”
“Says who? We’ll stay in touch, Lily. And I might come back.”
“I guess, but . . . I’m just confused about everything.”
“Are you talking about the way you played? Or are you talking about us?” he asks quietly.
“Both,” I say.
I walk to Cookie’s pen, and kneel beside it. Reaching in, I ruffle his fur, surprised when he raises his head and his tail starts to wag. I scratch between his ears, and he lowers his head again and heaves a contented sigh. But his tail