Wild Swans - Jessica Spotswood Page 0,79

and thanked God that I’d gotten there in time. Erica stood nearby with a sour look on her face. Like every time he said something nice to me, it took something away from her.

We all sat around the table and had ice cream. It was the first time—and now maybe the last—that we were together as a family without a fight. Gracie was back to her chipper self quicker than the rest of us. I couldn’t stop worrying about what might have happened if I hadn’t left the open mic night early. Would Erica have gotten past her fear of the water and saved Gracie, or would I have lost my little sister? Erica was quiet the rest of the evening, hovering over Grace, maybe wondering the same thing.

I hand Granddad the note. He reads it and cusses, running a hand over his beard. “Not again.”

“I saw her before she left. She said she’ll be back this time,” I offer.

“Are you all right?” Granddad’s eyes search my face like he’s looking for clues. Waiting for me to break, maybe. But I am learning I’m an awful lot more resilient than he or I or anyone else has been giving me credit for.

“I am, actually,” I say. And I mean it. I’m sad—really sad—but I’m okay.

“Will you stay home this morning and help me look after the girls? She might do a poor job of it sometimes, but Erica’s the only mother they’ve ever known, and her walking out like this…”

We’re still talking in hushed voices. A few yards away, the girls are sleeping behind their closed door. “Of course. I’ll call the library and let them know there’s a family emergency. I’m sure they’ll understand.”

“I think that’s best,” Granddad agrees. “But maybe say you’re not feeling well. No need for people to start asking questions.”

Part of me wants to lash out at him the same way I did Erica. Denounce him for his damned pride, for all the ways he’s contributed to this mess. But his shoulders are slumped and his blue eyes are watery and bleary pre-coffee. This is a lot for anyone to deal with once, let alone twice.

I’m not the only one who’s had to endure the whispers and poor-dearing over the years. How much shame must he have felt when Erica ran away the first time and left me behind? Whatever was or wasn’t his fault, she was the daughter he raised, and every arrow that people in this town slung in her direction must have felt like it went through him first.

“No one needs to know the details, but it seems kind of pointless to lie,” I say. “People will find out that Erica’s gone.”

“Ivy, I really don’t need everyone in town speculating about what’s wrong with my daughter, whether she went to rehab, whether she’s in a psychiatric hospital, whether it’s like mother, like daughter.”

For a minute I think he means me. That I’m bound to inherit Erica’s problems. Then I realize that he means Erica and Grandmother.

“What am I supposed to say? I don’t even know where she went,” he says.

“I think we have to trust that she’s going to get better so she can come back for Gracie and Iz.” It sounds ludicrous, even to me, but what other choice do we have? “She knew she was going to lose them anyway. After what happened yesterday, one of us was going to call her ex.”

“I tried to get her help before. Therapy. Inpatient stays for her eating disorder. As soon as she turned eighteen, she refused to go back. I guess Grace falling in the water yesterday was a wake-up call,” Granddad muses. “But her leaving again? People will talk.”

“They will.” I take a deep breath, already dreading all the questions.

The door across the hall creaks open. It’s Iz, her blond hair in wild curls around her face. She steps out into the hallway and shuts the door behind her. “What’s going on? I can hear you two whispering.” She sees her phone in Granddad’s hand. “Did Mama give you that?”

Granddad nods. “Isobel, let’s go downstairs.”

Iz scrunches up her face. “Now? It’s barely morning.”

“I think it would be good for us to talk before Grace wakes up,” Granddad says, herding us toward the stairs.

Iz darts a glance over her shoulder at me, her brown eyes enormous. “What happened? Is Mama… Is she dead?”

My heart aches that that was her first thought.

“No. But she’s gone away for a while,” Granddad says.

“What do you