"Let's see." I sat down on the grass and started making a little structure, digging the sticks into the soft ground, making a lean-to. "How about that moss for a roof?" I suggested. "And maybe some flower blossoms to make it pretty." Emily carefully placed the moss on top, and Lydia got some flowers.
"It's pretty," Emily said. "Even if fairies won't come."
Aha. Progress. A few minutes ago, she didn't believe in them at all; now they were a possibility. I smiled at her, earning a small, shy smile back.
The girls got into it, making a little path of stones to the structure, chatting away about what the fairies would like, asking me if I ever got any presents. I'd have to make sure to come back here and leave a little something (just in case the fairies didn't come through).
The girls were getting pleasingly grubby, the knees on their tights stained with dirt. Sign of a happy childhood, I always thought. Candy always liked us clean; childhood baths from her were scrub downs, rather than the bubble baths I started taking the second I had a place of my own.
Well. A place with Eric.
But I did love baths, more than ever now that I was living with Kate.
Not once had she suggested I look for my own place. Not once had she given the vibe that she found me irritating or too chatty. She didn't complain about Ollie, even when he'd barfed up some grass on the rug.
I felt a rush of love for my sister. Pulled out my phone and took a picture of the fairy house, then texted it to her. Playing with two little girls and thinking of you. Glad you're my sissy. xoxox.
I hoped she wouldn't think it was dumb.
A second later, my phone buzzed. You're so sweet, Ains. Thank you. Same here!
It was bittersweet that grief had made us closer.
Jonathan was taking longer than I expected. It occurred to me I didn't know where he lived. A sterile condo would be my guess. "Are you staying at Daddy's place tonight?" I asked.
"No. Mommy's and Uncle Matt's. We live half with them and half with Daddy," Emily said.
"Yes, he told me." How icky, making the girls call him uncle!
"Daddy hates Uncle Matt," Lydia said innocently.
"Lydia! Don't talk about it," said Emily, shooting me a worried glance.
"Why?" she said. "Annie's nice." She ripped up some grass from the perfect lawn to scatter around the fairy house.
"Ainsley," I corrected. "I think you're nice, too, both of you. But don't worry, Emily. I won't say anything." I ripped up some grass, too. Nothing but the best for the fairies.
"What have you got there?" came Jonathan's voice, and I jumped a little. I hadn't heard him coming. He stood behind us, hands in his pockets, tie off, jacket missing, his shirt unbuttoned at the neck.
"Ashley taught us to make fairy houses and the fairies might come back and give us presents!" Lydia said, yanking his hand. "Look, Daddy, look!"
Jonathan hunkered down and studied our work. "I like the little path," he said. "And the roof will keep them nice and dry if it rains."
I felt an odd pressure in my chest. An odd, lovely pressure.
"Daddy," Emily asked, "there aren't really any fairies, are there?" The look on her face practically begged him to contradict her.
He put his arm around her and looked into her serious face, the expression so similar to his own. "I don't know," he said in that low, beautiful voice. "I haven't seen one since I was a little boy."
"You saw one?" Lydia asked. "When, Daddy, when?"
Jonathan stood up. "Oh, I was about seven," he said, artfully picking the age just between his daughters. "At first I thought it was a dragonfly, but it hovered in the air in front of me, and it had a face almost like a person, but a little strange, a little different."
"Was she very beautiful?" Lydia asked.
"Did she have hair?" Emily added.
"She was beautiful, and yes, she had silvery hair. She seemed very curious about me. Then, just like that, she zipped away."
"I want to see a fairy!" Lydia said, hopping up and down.
"Is that a true story?" Emily asked.
"It is." He smiled at them, that small, slight lift to his lips, and that feeling came again.
Who knew that Jonathan Kent had a whimsical streak?
"Why don't you make another down there?" Jonathan suggested. "In case there's more than one fairy who needs a house. Maybe over there, where that big tree is."
The girls bolted down the lawn, Emily reaching out to hold Lydia's hand.
The sun was setting over the Hudson, high cumulus clouds piling up in a creamy glow. We could see the lights of Cambry-on-Hudson wink on down below, and in the distance, the shining bridge. The Village of the Damned had the best view in town.
"How's your dad?" I asked, not getting up from the grass. To my surprise, Jonathan sat down next to me.
"He's calmer now." There was a pause as he weighed what to tell me. "The stroke took away a lot." His face was hard to read.
"I'm sorry," I said.
He inclined his head. "Thank you. I bring the girls here because...well, because he's their grandfather. He loved them a great deal before."
There was a lot unsaid in that sentence. A lump formed in my throat. "And your mom?" I asked.
"She died eleven years ago. Cancer."
"I'm sorry."
"Thank you." He kept staring straight ahead. "My daughters mentioned their uncle, I take it?"
"Matt?"
"Yes."
"They did." I paused. "They said you hate him."
"Yes. It's somewhat hard to forgive your brother when he sleeps with your wife."
My mouth fell open. Holy guacamole! So uncle wasn't an honorary title.
"Oh," I managed.
He kept staring ahead. "They had an affair shortly after my father's stroke. They're still together."
"Jonathan, I'm so sorry."
Another incline of the head. "Partly my fault, I'm sure."
"No, I don't think it is."
He did look at me then, a flicker of amusement in his strange eyes.
"Your wife and your brother?" I went on. "Nope. Definitely not your fault. That's just shitty luck in relatives. And spouse. Low morals. Cheatin' hearts. Slimeballs. Did they take your dog, too?"
He laughed unexpectedly. "As a matter of fact, yes."
I leaned so my shoulder touched his just for a moment. "At least you have the makings of a good country song."
He slid a look at me, and something turned over in my stomach. "I suppose that's true."
The sky had turned an intense red at the horizon, and for a moment, we didn't say anything, just watched the girls as they busied themselves at the edge of the lawn. Two swallows dipped and whirled as they made their way home, and the Hudson shimmered silver and pink.
"Have you seen Eric lately?" Jonathan asked.
"Only on Jimmy Kimmel."
"You seem to have taken it well."
"Don't be fooled. I'd stab him in the eye if it wouldn't get me arrested." I shifted slightly, the grass feeling a little damp against my legs. "Do you ever get over it?" I asked. "That feeling that you didn't know the person you were sleeping with at all?"
Maybe I'd gone too far, because he didn't answer right away. "Sorry," I said.
"No," he said. "You don't. But it does stop hurting quite so much."
"You still go to the support group."
"I'm not sure how to extricate myself from that, actually. Also, they're nice people. My friends."
It struck me as odd that Jonathan had friends. I always pictured him alone. Not very fair of me. Until very recently, I'd pictured him only as a work-obsessed robot. Captain Flatline.
Who told his daughters that he'd seen a fairy, and faithfully visited his sick father.
"Daddy! Come see our fairy house! You, too, Abby!" The girls charged back at us, dirt-stained and happy.
"It's Miss O'Leary to you, sweetheart," he said.
"Or Ainsley," I said.
He stood up and offered me his hand, which I took, and he pulled me up. For a second, we were almost pressed together, and I smelled him, his laundry detergent, his soap.
I took a step back. "I should go," I said, my voice a little off. "It was so nice to meet you, girls. Check the fairy houses in a week or so and see if they left you a prize, okay?"
"We will!" Lydia announced.
"It was nice meeting you," Emily said, a little shy.
Jonathan smiled at me, a slightly crooked smile, as if he didn't quite know how to do it, and there it was again, that pressure, this time deep in my stomach.
"Oh, um, Jonathan, I thought we could maybe do a story on senior citizen dating," I babbled. "My grandmother? Who came to work today? Anyway, she's-Well, we can discuss it at work."
"All right," he said. "Good night, Ainsley."
"Bye," I said and walked off, acutely aware that my boss may or may not have been watching me go.