Eyes Wide Open
Page 8
“Hmmm . . . interesting . . . I wonder where it is.” Hannah turned back to her breadmaking project and lifted a cloth from a bowl.
I sipped my coffee and continued to study the photograph.
“Ethan didn’t speak for almost a year after her death. He just stopped talking one day. I think he was in shock when she didn’t come back . . . and it took him some time to accept it, even in his four-year-old mind,” Hannah said softly as she worked her dough.
Wow. My poor Ethan. It hurt me just to hear this story. The sadness in Hannah’s words was pretty intense and I struggled with any kind of response that didn’t sound ignorant. I wish I knew how their mother had died.
“I can’t even begin to imagine how hard that must have been for everyone. Ethan speaks so kindly of you and his father, though. He told me you all got closer and hung together once your mother passed.”
Hannah nodded as she worked. “We did, it’s true.” She punched the ball of dough and covered the bowl with the cloth again to allow a second rising. “I think the suddenness was a good thing in the end. There was no long illness or sad dwellings on what could not be changed, and in time Ethan adjusted and began talking again. Our grandmother was wonderful.” She smiled sadly over at Zara. “She’s been gone about six years now.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I just stayed quiet and sipped my coffee, and hoped she would share more of the family history.
“Car crash. Late at night. Mum and my aunt Rebecca were headed home from their grandfather’s funeral.” Hannah turned to Zara, who had gotten down from her chair and was heading out of the kitchen. “Don’t wake up Uncle Ethan, my love. He’s very tired.”
“I won’t.” Zara answered her mother but looked at me and gave a little wave.
My heart melted as I waved back and gave her a wink.
“That is one adorable child you have. So independent. I love it.”
“Thank you. She is a handful sometimes, and more curious than is good for her. I know she’ll be trying to get Ethan up out of bed and getting her sweets.”
I laughed at the image of that scene. I hoped I got to witness it. “And you have two other children too—both boys, I heard. I don’t know how you manage everything.”
She smiled as if the thought of her kids gave her a good feeling inside. I could tell Hannah was a great mom and I admired her for it.
“I’m pretty lucky with my man and I enjoy having guests here. We meet a great deal of interesting people. Some we’d like to never meet again, but on the whole, it’s good,” she said jokingly. “And some days I don’t know how I’d manage without Freddy. He took the boys to volunteer at a charity breakfast for the Boy Scouts. They’ll be home in a bit, and you can meet the rest of the clan.”
“You don’t have other guests staying here?”
“Not this weekend. You and my brother are it. By the way, what can I get you for breakfast?”
I came closer and peered at her breadmaking mission. “Oh, I’m fine with the coffee for now. I’ll wait for Ethan. In the meantime, could you use some help with the bread? I love to bake. It would be therapy for me after the insanity of last night.”
She grinned and pushed a lock of hair away from her face with a bent wrist. “You’re hired, Brynne. Aprons are on the back of the pantry door and I want to hear all about the insanity of last night.”
“That was easy,” I said as I went for the apron.
“I’m not stupid. I’ve learned over the years that help is a good thing.” She pegged me with warm gray eyes. “And you never have to ask me twice.”
3
I don’t know what compelled me to open my eyes. Probably the breathing on my face smelling faintly of jam, but regardless, I now understand why horror movies with children in them are, without a doubt, the most terrifying films of all. There is nothing quite like a silent child staring at you while you’re sleeping, or even worse, to wake up to.
Some questions come to mind pretty f**kin’ quick. Like how long have you been standing there watching over me like one of the ill-fated Grady sisters in The Shining?
Scared the ever-living shit out of me for about two seconds.
And then she smiled.
“Uncle Ethan is awake!” she yelled at the top of her lungs as she ran to the door, flinging it wide open.
“Zara! Shut the door behind you, please.” I sat up carefully, well aware I was nude and taking care to keep the blankets arranged. I was also alone in the bed, so I leaned around and looked toward the bathroom to try and catch sight of Brynne.
No Brynne.
“She’s downstairs talking to Mummy. They’re having coffees.” Zara poked her head back in.
“Is that so?” I said, wondering why on earth I sleep like the dead now and how long my niece had been hovering over me. Creep factor? About a twelve.
Zara nodded solemnly. “She came down ages ago.”
“What do you think of her?”
She ignored my question and tilted her head at me. “Did you get married, Uncle Ethan?”
I am sure my eyes bulged out, because Zara gave me a thorough looking over as she waited for a response. “Um . . . no. Brynne is my girlfriend.”
“Mummy and Daddy are married.”
“Yes they are. I was at the wedding.” I smiled and wished I could get out of bed and into some clothes, but she had me good and truly trapped.
“Why do you sleep naked?”
“Excuse me? Zara, I need to get dressed—”
“Daddy doesn’t sleep naked like you do. Brynne is nice. Will you take me to get an ice cream with Rags? He loves ice cream and I let him lick it and Mummy says that’s dirty but I let him anyway. Mummy said not to come in here, but I got tired of waiting for you to wake up. You’re the only person that’s still sleeping.”
Unbelievable. A five-year-old held me captive in a bed where I could do nothing but listen, mesmerized by her litany of observations, opinions and requests, and praying for some way to escape. She gave me quite the disgusted look too with that last bit. Sort of along the lines of, “What in the hell is wrong with you, Uncle Ethan?” And really, I had to agree with her five-year-old logic too. A hell of a lot was wrong with me.
“Okay. I’ll tell you what, Miss Zara. I’ll see what I can do about the ice cream with Rags if you go on out so I can get up and get dressed.” I gave her my best eyebrow quirk. “Deal?”
I sipped my coffee and continued to study the photograph.
“Ethan didn’t speak for almost a year after her death. He just stopped talking one day. I think he was in shock when she didn’t come back . . . and it took him some time to accept it, even in his four-year-old mind,” Hannah said softly as she worked her dough.
Wow. My poor Ethan. It hurt me just to hear this story. The sadness in Hannah’s words was pretty intense and I struggled with any kind of response that didn’t sound ignorant. I wish I knew how their mother had died.
“I can’t even begin to imagine how hard that must have been for everyone. Ethan speaks so kindly of you and his father, though. He told me you all got closer and hung together once your mother passed.”
Hannah nodded as she worked. “We did, it’s true.” She punched the ball of dough and covered the bowl with the cloth again to allow a second rising. “I think the suddenness was a good thing in the end. There was no long illness or sad dwellings on what could not be changed, and in time Ethan adjusted and began talking again. Our grandmother was wonderful.” She smiled sadly over at Zara. “She’s been gone about six years now.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I just stayed quiet and sipped my coffee, and hoped she would share more of the family history.
“Car crash. Late at night. Mum and my aunt Rebecca were headed home from their grandfather’s funeral.” Hannah turned to Zara, who had gotten down from her chair and was heading out of the kitchen. “Don’t wake up Uncle Ethan, my love. He’s very tired.”
“I won’t.” Zara answered her mother but looked at me and gave a little wave.
My heart melted as I waved back and gave her a wink.
“That is one adorable child you have. So independent. I love it.”
“Thank you. She is a handful sometimes, and more curious than is good for her. I know she’ll be trying to get Ethan up out of bed and getting her sweets.”
I laughed at the image of that scene. I hoped I got to witness it. “And you have two other children too—both boys, I heard. I don’t know how you manage everything.”
She smiled as if the thought of her kids gave her a good feeling inside. I could tell Hannah was a great mom and I admired her for it.
“I’m pretty lucky with my man and I enjoy having guests here. We meet a great deal of interesting people. Some we’d like to never meet again, but on the whole, it’s good,” she said jokingly. “And some days I don’t know how I’d manage without Freddy. He took the boys to volunteer at a charity breakfast for the Boy Scouts. They’ll be home in a bit, and you can meet the rest of the clan.”
“You don’t have other guests staying here?”
“Not this weekend. You and my brother are it. By the way, what can I get you for breakfast?”
I came closer and peered at her breadmaking mission. “Oh, I’m fine with the coffee for now. I’ll wait for Ethan. In the meantime, could you use some help with the bread? I love to bake. It would be therapy for me after the insanity of last night.”
She grinned and pushed a lock of hair away from her face with a bent wrist. “You’re hired, Brynne. Aprons are on the back of the pantry door and I want to hear all about the insanity of last night.”
“That was easy,” I said as I went for the apron.
“I’m not stupid. I’ve learned over the years that help is a good thing.” She pegged me with warm gray eyes. “And you never have to ask me twice.”
3
I don’t know what compelled me to open my eyes. Probably the breathing on my face smelling faintly of jam, but regardless, I now understand why horror movies with children in them are, without a doubt, the most terrifying films of all. There is nothing quite like a silent child staring at you while you’re sleeping, or even worse, to wake up to.
Some questions come to mind pretty f**kin’ quick. Like how long have you been standing there watching over me like one of the ill-fated Grady sisters in The Shining?
Scared the ever-living shit out of me for about two seconds.
And then she smiled.
“Uncle Ethan is awake!” she yelled at the top of her lungs as she ran to the door, flinging it wide open.
“Zara! Shut the door behind you, please.” I sat up carefully, well aware I was nude and taking care to keep the blankets arranged. I was also alone in the bed, so I leaned around and looked toward the bathroom to try and catch sight of Brynne.
No Brynne.
“She’s downstairs talking to Mummy. They’re having coffees.” Zara poked her head back in.
“Is that so?” I said, wondering why on earth I sleep like the dead now and how long my niece had been hovering over me. Creep factor? About a twelve.
Zara nodded solemnly. “She came down ages ago.”
“What do you think of her?”
She ignored my question and tilted her head at me. “Did you get married, Uncle Ethan?”
I am sure my eyes bulged out, because Zara gave me a thorough looking over as she waited for a response. “Um . . . no. Brynne is my girlfriend.”
“Mummy and Daddy are married.”
“Yes they are. I was at the wedding.” I smiled and wished I could get out of bed and into some clothes, but she had me good and truly trapped.
“Why do you sleep naked?”
“Excuse me? Zara, I need to get dressed—”
“Daddy doesn’t sleep naked like you do. Brynne is nice. Will you take me to get an ice cream with Rags? He loves ice cream and I let him lick it and Mummy says that’s dirty but I let him anyway. Mummy said not to come in here, but I got tired of waiting for you to wake up. You’re the only person that’s still sleeping.”
Unbelievable. A five-year-old held me captive in a bed where I could do nothing but listen, mesmerized by her litany of observations, opinions and requests, and praying for some way to escape. She gave me quite the disgusted look too with that last bit. Sort of along the lines of, “What in the hell is wrong with you, Uncle Ethan?” And really, I had to agree with her five-year-old logic too. A hell of a lot was wrong with me.
“Okay. I’ll tell you what, Miss Zara. I’ll see what I can do about the ice cream with Rags if you go on out so I can get up and get dressed.” I gave her my best eyebrow quirk. “Deal?”
