It was always pretty hilarious when she heard her own words coming out of Annelise’s mouth.
And during the next few moments of silence, words flooded into her mind, like the refrain of a song:If I was going to try to fascinate a woman like you...
If only she could Google the end of that sentence.
Howdid he see her? How long had it been since she’d thought of herself as a Woman, not just a Mom, possessed of qualities unique only to her? What made Gabe Calderalookat her the way he did—like he was literally dazzled—and smile the way he did? Like he’d like to remove her clothes, slowly, with his teeth?
Because she couldn’t imagine the next time she’d run into him. Might be weeks from now. And if Avalon tried to cleverly engineer anything, well, tough. She and Mr. Caldera (Gabe? Your Excellency?) had already established there wasn’t time for any of that: for dating, or for “fascinating,” or for hearing the ends of sentences that could only lead to other similar sentences that she didn’t have time for.
So be it.
She’d likely forget all about it by morning, anyway.
When they got home, Eden cracked Annelise up by drawing a little smiling broccoli on the whiteboard on the day’s date.
Then Annelise was dispatched to her room to finish her Aztec project, while Eden set about getting the house tidied and locked down for the night and began her preparations for tomorrow: she packed Leesy’s lunch for school, loaded the dishwasher, tossed in one small, final load of laundry (because Annelise would want to wear her pink sweater tomorrow, and it was looking a little grubby), then went into their computer room—a little bigger than a closet, with a comfy old beat-up olive-colored love seat and a full-length mirror, and one of Peace and Love’s two cat trees perched in front of a window that got a lot of sun—to power down the old desktop computer.
She sat down hard when she saw what was typed in the search engine bar.
Who is Annelise Harwood’s dad?
Eden made a soft, stunned sound. Half laugh, half whimper of pain.
She sighed and pushed her fingers up through her hair. Dropped her head into her hands for a second. Oh, her baby. Trying to find things out in her way.
“I’m done with my report, Mom,” Annelise called. “Can I play guitar for a little while?”
“Um, sure,” Eden called absently.
Crap.
Seconds later, Annelise was playing that song again. “Invisible Dad.”
Eden stood up slowly, then went to stand in Annelise’s doorway and listen. Annelise was perched on the end of her bed. Her voice was pure, supple, naturally emotive, yet still sweetly childlike. She reached notes easily. And God only knew, genetically the kid probably got more than her fair share of confidence. And the talent sure hadn’t come from Eden.
Invisible dad
The only dad I ever had
He knows what to say when I am sad
Invisible dad
Invisible dad
I wonder if his name is Brad or Chad?
If I knew that sure would be rad
Invisible dad
“Sweetie... that’s... a... um... lovely song.”
“Thanks!” she said cheerfully. “A minor goes good with C major.” Annelise strummed and the wistful gloom of A minor filled the room.
“A rather mournful chord, isn’t it?”
“What’s mournful?”