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“Permission to enter?” he asks.
shrug, wiping my eyes and scooting over quickly
as he crawls awkwardly into the tiny room, tucking his
knees up against his chin.
“I like what you’ve done with the place,” he jokes,
looking around at the layers of dust and cobwebs.
smile despite myself. He looks ridiculous—like
giant folded into nutshell.
“Well
never!” He gasps, his eyes falling on the
teddy bear. “Mr. Brown! How are you, old fella?” He
fondles the bear’s ears affectionately. “I thought we’d lost
him years ago—never dared mention it to you because
one time when you lost him for just
day you were
inconsolable. Even ice cream for breakfast, lunch and
di
yourself headache. Just as well, really—it was only when
went to get some painkillers that found him, hidden in
the medicine chest!” He laughs.
“I’ll never forget the look on your face when
brought him riding into your bedroom on my shoulders.
You looked at me like
was your hero, like
could fix
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anything.” He smiles wistfully. “I loved that. You’d come to
me with your cuts and scrapes and nightmares and I’d kiss
them all better, solve everything with wave of my magic
wand. It was the best feeling in the world.” He beams at
me for moment; then his face clouds over.
“I’m sorry
can’t fix this, Holly-berry.” He sighs
heavily. “I’d give anything, you know, do anything to
change things—to swap places …”
look at him. For the first time in my life he looks
old.
“You lost your magic wand?” joke, my voice light.
He smiles sadly. “Yes, yes, suppose have.”
stare at the floor, at the knotted wood swirling and
splintering beneath us, yet somehow still managing to
hold us up, at least for now.
“But still have some magical powers.”
“Oh, yeah?” raise an eyebrow.
“Uh-huh. My shoulders are actually super-spongy-
sturdy stress supporters, plus
have super-sensitive-
sympathetic listening skills.”
“Bonus.” grin, and he smiles.
“So
you and Josh …”
shrug. “Didn’t work out.”
“I’m sorry,” Dad says sincerely. “What happened?”
“It just
didn’t work out,” repeat quietly.
“Right.” He nods. “Only hope it wasn’t to do with
Hunt—”
“It’s for the best,” interrupt quickly.
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“Right.” Dad nods, and we both stare at the floor.
“You know,
do also have super-sonic-shutting-up
powers …,” he says gently. “On occasion …”
grin despite myself. “Rarely used.”
“Rarely used,” he admits, smiling.
sniff. “How about super-human-hugging powers?”
“Now, those,” he says, wrapping one big arm around
me and pulling me close, “are my specialty.”
close my eyes and lean into him, his arms tight
around me, the musty smell of his old woolly sweater
warm and familiar.
“Oh, Holly-berry,” he sighs, rocking me like child.
“You know, it hardly seems two minutes ago that first
gave you Mr. Brown to soothe you to sleep as baby.” He
looks at me. “Did you know he used to be mine, when
was little boy?”
stare up at him. “Really?”
He nods. “I loved him so much,
never went
anywhere without him—I never thought could ever part
with him.” He looks at me. “But it turned out could—for
something loved infinitely more. My first child.”
My heart sinks as rapidly as it rose.
“Then he wasn’t for me, was he?”
say, looking
away. “He was for her. For Rosie.” Just like everything else
“No, Holly-berry,” Dad says gently. “He was always
meant for you. You’re the one who needed him, who
couldn’t sleep without him. Who loved him.” He strokes
my hair off my face. “Some things are yours because
you’re born with them—your DNA, the color of your
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eyes—and other things become yours because they’re
part of you who you choose to be—and that’s so much more important.” He sighs. “Huntington’s
whether you
have it or not, that’s not who you are. It doesn’t define
you, Holly.”
look away.
“You are the decisions you make. The things you do.
The people you love and who love you. They’re the things
that really make you who you are.” He smiles. “That’s why
Mr. Brown here will always be yours, just like this tree
house, like the scar on your knee where you fell off your
trike.” He links his pinkie with mine. “He’s part of who
you are Intertwined. Inseparable. And no one can ever
take that away. Ever.” His eyes linger on mine, deep and
full. “He’ll always be yours.”
My heart swells.
“Until you decide to give him to your own child one
day.” He grins, handing Mr. Brown to me and pulling me
closer. “It’s crazy thing, becoming parent,” he whispers
into my hair. “You never realize just how much it’s
possible to love someone else. How another life can be so
much more important than your own
until suddenly
you do.”
stare at Mr. Brown and swallow hard. Now’s the
time, the moment.
“Dad …”
“I know, know.” He grins. “Slushy slushy, but you’ll
understand one day, when it’s your turn.”
“Dad …”
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“And that’s
long way in the future, know!” He
laughs. “Supersonic-shutting-up powers activated.”
“No, Dad …” hesitate. have to do this “Dad, you
know those super-sensitive listening skills?”
“Super-sensitive-sympathetic listening skills,” he
corrects me.
“Dad.”
“Sorry,” he says. “Activated. Shoot.”
look at him, my heart pounding in my chest.
Suddenly
smile, certain that everything will be okay.
“Dad, I—I’m—”
“Jack!” Megan yells from the garden.
Dad glances outside, then back at me. “Go ahead.”
“I …,” begin again.
“Jack!”
His gaze remains firmly on mine.
take deep breath.
“Jack!” Megan yells again. “Jack, where are you?”
look down at her pacing the garden, and my pulse
races. can’t do this in hurry.
“You’d better answer her,”
tell him, my heart
sinking.
He sticks his head out of the door. “Megan!” he calls.
“I’m in the tree house with Holly—can it wait?”
Megan hurries over,
large envelope in her hand.
“I’m sorry, no, it can’t,” she says, swiping her frazzled hair
from her eyes. “Jack, you have to see this,” she says, her
face deathly pale. “You too, Holly.”
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Rosie
turn the kitchen tap on and drink straight from my
hands, the water cold and refreshing after my walk along
the harbor, my cheeks burning despite the morning chill.
“Well, what the hell can we do about it?” Jack’s voice bellows from the living room, making me jump. My heart
sinks.
turn the tap off carefully and hurry upstairs,
anxious to be out of the way of another argument.
“Rosie.” Megan steps into the hall, her hair nest of
frazzled curls. “You’re back.”
nod. “But I’ll get out of your way,” say quickly.
“No, Rosie.” She sighs. “Sweetheart, you’d better
come and see this.”
walk slowly back downstairs,
feeling of unease
sinking over me.
Jack is sitting hunched over in an armchair, the
contents of an envelope spread across the coffee table.
“I need some air,” Holly mutters, pushing past me.
“What’s going on?” ask, watching her go, my skin