Forever This Time

by Maggie McGinnis

  “Did Avery like the Twinkle Fairy?”

  Ethan started. “What?”

  “Did Avery like the Twinkle Fairy?” Emmy kept her eyes glued on the window. They’d never talked about Avery. Not ever. Had Steph told Emmy what he’d told her? As he composed an answer, he felt like he might just be out in the middle of a not-quite-frozen pond.

  “Well, actually, she loved the Ferris wheel best.”

  “Hmm. I guess I can see that.” She looked thoughtful. “What did you call her, Ethan?”

  “I called her munchkin.”

  “That’s good.” She nodded solemnly. “I’ve been hoping you didn’t call her squirt.”

  “Nope. No way. That one’s all you.”

  “Do I remind you of her?”

  Ethan paused before he answered. What did she want to hear? Of course she reminded him of Avery. Every child who came through Avery’s House reminded him. But though the memories triggered by Emmy and the others ripped him apart at times, he’d made a promise ten years ago to a beautiful little girl that he would never, ever forget her.

  Creating this house had been the best way he could think of to do that.

  “I think … I think everybody reminds me of her a little bit. I loved her an awful lot, and she was a very special little girl to a lot of people.”

  “Does my cancer remind you of hers?”

  Emmy looked suddenly smaller in the already-tiny recliner, and Ethan wished for the thousandth time that he could do more than give her a fun place to stay for a few weeks. He reached out and pulled her onto his lap, cuddling the blanket around her.

  “She had a very different kind of cancer, squirt. It was one the doctors just didn’t have the medicine to treat. And it was a long time ago. Things are so much better now.”

  She settled her little head into his chest and curled her legs up, pulling the quilt closed under her chin. Her voice was almost too soft to hear as she asked, “Am I going to get better, Ethan?”

  He squeezed her gently. “You better believe it. You’ve got the best doctors around, all sorts of amazing medicine, and a super-strong little body. And a mom who loves you.”

  “And you. You love me, too, right?”

  “And me. I will never, ever stop loving you.”

  “Even if I turn into a cranky teenager?”

  Ethan laughed. “Even when you turn into a cranky teenager. Which, come to think of it, you better not.”

  “Well, I’ll try. No promises.” She smiled up at him, then nestled her head back down. “Why don’t you have any kids, Ethan?”

  He took a deep breath, staring out the window at the Snowflake Village rides twinkling through the trees. Emmy’s question was a gut punch after spending a restless night thinking about Josie and the life he’d thought they’d be living by now. “I guess … I guess it’s just not my time yet.”

  “You’re not going to live forever, you know. Don’t you think you should start looking for a wife?”

  He chuckled sadly. “If you only knew, squirt.”

  “Will you sit with me till Mommy gets done with her shower?”

  Ethan shifted in the chair, settling Emmy more comfortably and adjusting the blanket around her. “You betcha. Close your eyes and dream of the Twinkle Fairy.”

  “I’m going to close my eyes and make some wishes.”

  Ethan’s eyes snapped open at words that sounded so eerily familiar. “What kinds of wishes?”

  “I’m not sure yet. At the hospital I had a dream about wishes. A little girl gave me a bag of pennies and told me I could make wishes with them.”

  Ethan’s heart raced. “What did she look like?”

  “Um, I don’t remember.” Emmy’s forehead furrowed with concentration. “Wait. She had a blue hat on. And a ponytail. She said I should use the pennies for get-better wishes.”

  “Wow.”

  Wow.

  “That sounds like a—perfect—dream.”

  Emmy nodded. “It was. She was nice.” Then she closed her eyes. “I think I need to sleep again.”

  “Okay, squirt.” Ethan’s voice was a little shaky. “Sleep tight. Happy—wishes.”

  Ethan closed his eyes, trying to stem the flood of memories that came with Emmy’s dream. There were enough pictures of Avery around the house that Emmy could certainly have conjured her up in a feverish dream.

  But the pennies and wishes? Only a select few people knew about the way Avery used to bring little baggies of pennies to the wishing well at Snowflake Village, even before she was sick.

  * * *

  “Whatcha wishing for today, munchkin?” Ethan sat down on the bench next to where Avery was pitching pennies into the wishing well.

  Avery shrugged. “I’m not sure I’m sure what to wish for.”

  “That sounds complicated.”

  “I’m scared, Ethan.”

  Ethan gulped, knowing Josie had taken her to the oncologist just yesterday. “I would be, too.”

  “I don’t want to be sick anymore. Who’s going to take care of me?”

  Ethan’s gut roiled at the question, furious that an eight-year-old would even have to ask it. He put his arm around her tiny shoulders, pulling her close to him. “We all will, Aves. Don’t you worry about that at all. Josie and I will be with you through it all.”

  She looked up, eyes huge and hollow. “You promise?”

  “Pinky swear.” He held up his pinky and she hooked it with her own.

  “Let’s call her Cruella.”

  “Who?”

  “My tumor. She’s the evil, awful Cruella de Vil and I need to crush her!”

  “We will, Aves. We totally will.”

  Avery grabbed his hand and put her thumb on top of his, then placed a penny carefully on top. She closed her eyes tightly and said, “Super-wish, Ethan. Double-power wish.”

  “Okay, munchkin. Super double-power wish!”

  “One! Two! Three! Wish!” Avery lifted both of their hands so the penny went flying into the wishing well.

  “What are you two up to?” Josie walked up and sat down on the other side of Avery. “Ethan? Are you okay? Your eyes look funny.”

  Chapter 23

  “You need a grape Popsicle?” Ben’s quiet voice broke into Josie’s thoughts as he settled beside her in the pine needles next to the river that same morning. She’d been sitting there for an hour waiting for the magic of the burbling water to take over and calm her jumbled brain. Between kissing Ethan last night and her dad’s state this morning, though, it wasn’t working.

  “I think I need a whole box of ’em, Ben.”

  “How’s your dad?”

  “He’s doing okay. Mom and I met with his physical therapist this morning. Looks like they might move him to rehab in the next couple of days.”

  “Well, that’s good news.”

  Josie shrugged. “I guess. It’s hard to tell. It’s not like he’s made much progress besides waking up. Not that that isn’t huge, I mean. But wow, Ben. Wow. She spent a lot of time talking about how involved the family should be in his care, and how we’re looking at months and months of rehab just to get him to a functional state. And the whole time, I just sat there feeling guilty that I need to get back to Boston in a couple of weeks.”

  “Maybe you will, maybe you won’t.” He sighed. “I went to visit him last night.”

  “You did? Did he recognize you?”

  “No.” Ben shook his head sadly. “I don’t think so, anyway. Hard to tell yet.” He tossed a twig into the water and watched it drift downstream.

  “I don’t know, Ben. My whole life is in Boston … and I like it that way.” Don’t I? “I took two weeks off, but I can’t saddle my partner with a whole clinic for any longer than that.”

  She threw a twig in to chase his. “I’m worried about Mom. It sounds weird to say after … everything. But I am.”

  “Of course you are.”

  “This would be tough for someone who hadn’t had her history.”

  “
Yup.”

  “So what’s she going to do when things get too hard to handle? That’s what gives me nightmares. All the progress she’s made could go up in one little slug of one little bottle.”

  “All true.”

  Josie looked up from the water. “You’re not especially helping here.”

  “Just listening.”

  “I know. I appreciate it.” She flung another twig, more angrily than she meant to. “Oh Ben. What am I going to do?”

  He paused, studying her. “I get the feeling your dad’s not the only thing on your mind.”

  “Ha.” You don’t know the half of it, buddy.

  “Not so easy popping back into town, eh?”

  She sighed. “I feel like I’ve been gone way longer than ten years.”

  “Lot of changes.” He picked up a batch of pine needles and rolled them between his hands. “It’s not the same place you left.”

  “I know. I can see that. But a lot hasn’t changed. I think that’s the hard part.”

  “Yup. S’true.”

  Josie watched a leaf spin in the lazy water as it headed over the shallow pebbles. “I was so sure I was so right about everything when I left.”

  “Part of being young, honey. We always know everything when we’re eighteen.”

  “I just don’t know what to think about anything anymore. Mom’s different, Dad’s … well, I don’t even know who Dad is anymore, and Ethan’s different but the same. I can’t sort it all out.”

  “You will. You haven’t been back but a week. You think you’re going to figure it all out overnight?”

  “Yes.” Josie frowned. “But I apparently misjudged how complicated everybody got.”

  “It might not be my place to say it, but I think everybody got a little less complicated after you left.”

  “Thanks, Ben. That makes me feel so much better.”

  “You know that’s not what I meant.” He tossed more needles into the water. “I just mean no one ever expected you to up and leave. You were gonna go get your degree and come back and run the place when your dad retired. It was the plan.”

  “It wasn’t my plan.”

  “I know. Your parents were too wrapped up in their own troubles to see that at the time. But when you left, it was like a light went off here. Your dad walked around here for weeks looking like he didn’t know whether it was morning or night.”

  “Well, I didn’t exactly make a graceful exit. I’m sure he was furious.”

  Ben shook his head and leaned his elbows back in the pine needles. “I don’t remember him being mad. I really don’t. I remember him being sad. Very, very sad. He came down to my shed about a week after you’d gone, and he could hardly string sentences together. Thought it was all his fault you’d gone sour on his dream for you. Thought you blamed him for your mom’s issues. Thought he’d scared you away forever.”

  “Well…”

  “He changed, honey. He knew he’d been using this park as a crutch for years. Knew he’d been avoiding your mom’s problems by making sure he was never home. I just don’t think he’d ever had the power to step outside himself and realize what it had all done to you. When he did, it knocked him for a serious loop. He never thought you’d really leave.

  “So … he took that next week off, brought your mom to Maple Tree Farm to dry out, and he’s been helping her stay sober ever since. They’ve been praying for years that you’d come home, but they wanted you to do it in your own time, for your own reasons.”

  He looked into her eyes. “Every single day they miss you, honey. Every single day.”

  “Ben, stop it. You’re going to make me cry.”

  “I’m just telling you the truth. You get to decide what you do with it.”

  Josie threw another twig into the brook and watched it spin until it was out of sight. “Why didn’t they ever tell me any of this?”

  Ben took a big breath. “I don’t know, honey. I think they wanted you to come home of your own accord, not because you felt guilty or coerced by them cleaning up their acts. They only wanted you to come back here if you felt the pull yourself. ’Course, no one coulda predicted this happening.”

  “Did you know Mom’s been sending me letters every month for nine years now?”

  “Nope.” He looked at her. “You ever answer?”

  Josie looked down, a new feeling coursing through her body. Was this what shame felt like?

  “No. I never answered.”

  “Well, maybe you just weren’t ready yet.” Ben shrugged. “And I imagine it’d be hard to put away all those years that came before.”

  “I don’t know. I just never—trusted them, I guess. They were all breezy and happy and—not the mom I knew. Felt like a stranger was writing to me.”

  “Did you ever start to believe maybe she was better? For real?” Ben raised his eyebrows.

  “Well, she sounded it—obviously—but Ben. Alcoholics are the master manipulators of the universe. Even at her worst, she could have conjured up a newsy little fake letter once a month.”

  “Every month?”

  “I didn’t know what to think.”

  He nodded slowly. “Well, what do you think now?”

  “I still don’t know.”

  “She’s not drinking, right?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “So maybe you could let yourself believe it’s for real? Just a little bit?”

  Josie sighed. “Maybe. It’s hard.”

  Ben took a deep breath. “I know. There’s a lot else here that’s for real, too, honey.”

  “I think I can only take in so much at one time.”

  He patted her knee. “When you’re ready. When you’re ready.”

  “I’m afraid, Ben.” Josie wiped her hands on her jeans. A part of her felt like she was eight years old again and just wanted to be wrapped in Ben’s big, comforting hug. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

  “I’m pretty sure you’ll figure it out soon enough. And in the meantime, just keep moving, one step at a time. It’s all a body can do sometimes.”

  “I wish I could love this place like Dad always wanted me to. I really do. It would be so much easier.”

  Ben fiddled with a twig, tearing off pine needles one by one. “Well, you did used to love it. But you ended up having a lot of reasons not to, in the end. Can’t ignore them—they’re part of you. But you also have a choice about what you do with them. They don’t have to keep you away from this place forever, honey.”

  Josie nodded slowly. “I’m doing my best.”

  Then her stomach felt queasy as she remembered sitting in the Snowflake Village parking lot with a dead Jeep and no one to call.

  “You know what’s really depressing, Ben? I don’t have even one friend left here.”

  “You might have more than you know.”

  “I appreciate your optimism, but it’s a small town, and I dumped its golden boy.”

  He smiled. “Even small towns forgive, honey. You were young, your parents were different people then. You had an awful lot of very good reasons to go. Doesn’t mean you can’t come back, though. Give people a chance to welcome you back, Josie. I bet they will.”

  “I don’t know, Ben. I just don’t know. I never pictured it—not in a million years. I have a whole ’nother life in Boston.”

  Ben chuckled. “But you just said a whole ’nother.”

  “Did not.”

  “Did. And nobody outside of these parts says it that naturally—not that I’ve found, anyway.” Josie felt herself smile. He patted her shoulder as he stood up. “Just keep your options open, honey. And maybe even your heart. You never know.”

  “I’ll work on the options, for now, if it’s all the same to you.”

  Ben chuckled. “The heart’ll follow. The heart’ll follow.”

  Chapter 24

  When Josie pushed open the door of Bellinis on Friday night, the booths were all full, as was every stool but one at the bar. Must be Mama B’s ch
icken and mostaccioli special was still the stuff of Friday-night legend around here. The noise level almost drowned out the corner televisions blaring the Red Sox game.

  She walked slowly toward the one empty barstool, praying for courage. The main reason she was here was absolute desperation for home-cooked food. The second reason was her absolute desperation for a friend here in Echo Lake, as pathetic as that sounded. So she’d put on her brave face and was determined to make nice with Molly tonight. She’d probably end up with a plate of mostaccioli in her lap—oops—but she had to give it a try.

  Five minutes later, Molly blasted through the kitchen doors and past Josie with six plates piled on her arms. Her bright red hair had escaped its headband and was falling in sticky wisps to her cheeks as she flew around the restaurant delivering plates and picking up empty glasses. Josie looked around, wondering where the other waitresses were, but didn’t see another soul working.

  Finally Molly blew back into the bar area and sidestepped down the bar, taking orders as fast as she could scribble on her little green pad. When she got to Josie, she didn’t even look up. “What can I get you?”

  “Peanut butter sandwich. Toasted on three sides. Chips on top. Side of pickles.”

  Molly started as she scribbled the first part, then looked up at Josie. “Very funny.”

  “Sorry.”

  “What do you really want?”

  “Anything that’s hot and doesn’t taste like popcorn cakes or yogurt. That’s all Mom keeps in the house, and I haven’t had time to get any groceries.”

  “A burger fine?”

  “Whatever’s easiest, Mols. Really. You look like you’re crazy-busy. I feel guilty even ordering.”

  Molly raised her eyebrows like she couldn’t quite believe Josie was capable of the emotion. “Night servers both called out sick.”

  “Oh no.”

  “One Direction’s at the Garden tonight. I’m sure there’s absolutely no connection.” Molly flipped the pad closed, then crashed through the kitchen doors and immediately flew back out with six more plates.