Contents ( 109)
- CONTENTS
- ONE
- Sylvie
- TWO
- Sylvie
- THREE
- Thomas
- FOUR
- Sylvie
- FIVE
- Thomas
- SIX
- Sylvie
- SEVEN
- Thomas
- EIGHT
- Sylvie
- NINE
- Thomas
- TEN
- Sylvie
- ELEVEN
- Thomas
- TWELVE
- Sylvie
- THIRTEEN
- Thomas
- FOURTEEN
- Sylvie
- FIFTEEN
- Thomas
- SIXTEEN
- Sylvie
- SEVENTEEN
- Thomas
- EIGHTEEN
- Sylvie
- NINETEEN
- Sylvie
- TWENTY
- Thomas
- TWENTY-ONE
- Sylvie
- TWENTY-TWO
- Thomas
- TWENTY-THREE
- Sylvie
- TWENTY-FOUR
- Thomas
- TWENTY-FIVE
- Sylvie
- TWENTY-SIX
- Thomas
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- Sylvie
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- Thomas
- TWENTY-NINE
- Sylvie
- THIRTY
- Thomas
- THIRTY-ONE
- Sylvie
- THIRTY-TWO
- Thomas
- THIRTY-THREE
- Sylvie
- THIRTY-FOUR
- Thomas
- THIRTY-FIVE
- Sylvie
- THIRTY-SIX
- Thomas
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- Sylvie
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- Sylvie
- THIRTY-NINE
- Thomas
- FORTY
- Sylvie
- FORTY-ONE
- Sylvie
- FORTY-TWO
- Thomas
- FORTY-THREE
- Sylvie
- FORTY-FOUR
- Sylvie
- FORTY-FIVE
- Thomas
- FORTY-SIX
- Sylvie
- FORTY-SEVEN
- Sylvie
- FORTY-EIGHT
- Sylvie
- FORTY-NINE
- Thomas
- FIFTY
- Sylvie
- FIFTY-ONE
- Thomas
- FIFTY-TWO
- Sylvie
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION
- connect online
- What’s next on your reading list?
I touch each piece of plastic like they’re talismans. “I brought these to High River. Mom promised to keep them safe. But I never saw them again.”
“What are they from?”
The jagged scar that runs the length of my palm separates the figures. “Not sure.” Ghostly lips graze my forehead. The woman whispers . . . I lean in, but the words blow away like smoke.
“Sylvie?”
I ask, “What now?”
“We check into the hotel then we visit the Oregon Department of Human Services, find your caseworker, Heidi, and ask her what the hell that letter was about.”
I hear my dad’s warning about digging up the past and hesitate. But I’ve never really tried to understand my own abilities, I’ve just let them happen, never fully trusted them. Finding out the truth about my biological parents, and my time in foster care, could help answer all my doubts, validate my choices; prove I’m the real deal. And working with Thomas will allow me to at least partially control what we find, lead him to trust me.
“You still game?”
I close my fingers over the plastic figures. “Yes.”
TWENTY-FOUR
Thomas
“We have you in a queen room,” the young woman behind the front desk informs us. She glances at me, the cat carrier in my arms, and Moose. “Would you like to upgrade to a suite with a separate living room?”
Sylvie reads the name tag on her white blouse. “No thanks, Madison. It’ll be cozy for sure, but my boyfriend likes to keep a very close eye on me.” She winks.
Madison is Oregon winter pale so her blush is visible as it crawls up her neck to the roots of her strawberry blond hair. She types some information into her computer, pulls out a pair of keycards, and slots them into a square, black machine. “We have you in a pet-friendly room.” She hands Sylvie the cards. “Would you like help from our bellman?”
I say, “We’ve got it from here.”
“Certainly, sir. Oh. Ms. Young, you have a package and, ah, a bunch of messages.” Madison hands Sylvie a document-sized envelope with her name on the front and a stack of yellow slips. “Um, Ms. Young?”
“You can call me Sylvie.”
“Really? I’m . . . I’m a big fan of yours. My sister and I have tickets to your show on Sunday!”
Fatigue from the last twenty-four hours flakes away when Sylvie smiles. Several people in the lobby glance over, drawn to her like honeybees to blossoms.
Madison asks, “Do you mind if I pet Moose?”
“He’d love that.”
On cue, Moose sits. Madison comes around the reception desk, scratches his chest with rose-painted nails. The gold charm bracelet on her wrist jingles.
Sylvie sways and I catch her around the waist. “You okay?” She hasn’t eaten much.
She touches one of the gold charms on Madison’s bracelet—an old-fashioned trolley car—then covers her ears, winces like she’s in pain. “A man gave you that . . . but two figures are attached to it?”