Kate slowly stood, as if testing her balance. It felt strange. Her muscles felt weak.
Cricket turned in the doorway and stared at Kate. Kate had no idea what she was thinking. She never did. She was as unreadable as a lost language. “Are you excited about coming to work in my office? We’ll get your hair trimmed tomorrow. Would you like that?”
Kate put her hand to her hair and felt a year’s worth of choppy growth framing her face.
It had been exactly one year since Kate had picked up those scissors in the bathroom, after locking herself in after Matt’s funeral. She’d stared at them, the stainless steel winking in the noon light, and she’d thought things she’d never known she was capable of thinking—dark, unforgivable things. But when she’d lifted the scissors, she instead took her grief and frustration out on her long brown hair. With every snip of the scissors, clumps of her hair had fallen, and she’d watched them turn into tiny birds that cawed and flew around her, swarming in a heavy circle.
Matt had loved her hair, and she’d worn it long just for him. Kate had lived for the times when, as she was doing the books at the shop, Matt would casually walk by and slide the pencil holding up her hair, just to watch it cascade down her back. When they’d made love, he’d liked her on top, with her hair falling down around him, sticking to his skin.
Hours later, Cricket had found her on the bathroom floor. Cricket had gone to her knees in surprise, and Kate had cried, holding on to Cricket so tightly she was sure she’d left bruises. Cricket had helped Kate clean up the places where she’d nicked her scalp, and trimmed what she could so Kate wouldn’t scare Devin. Cricket had made light of it for Devin, telling her that Kate just needed a hairstyle that was easier to take care of.
That had been the last day she’d been awake.
Until now.
Cricket was waiting for her to answer.
“Yes,” Kate said. “Thank you, Cricket. For everything.”
“I’ll see you soon,” she said, then turned to go. “I have big plans to tell you about.”
Kate listened to the sound of Cricket’s heels as she walked down the hallway.
The opening and closing of the front door.
The sound of Cricket’s car pulling out of the driveway.
Kate then hurried out of her room, trying to blink away the sleep and disorientation. My God, she thought, this is really happening. She went to the closet down the hall, where the folding stairs had already been pulled from the ceiling.
She climbed the ladder and emerged into the light from the single window in the attic. Dust motes floated around her like ash. Her eight-year-old daughter was humming as she plowed through the detritus of a large black trunk whose hinges were red with rust and the faded word MARILEE was stamped in gold on the lid.
Devin had grown in the year Kate had been asleep, grown in ways Kate was just now seeing. Her face was fuller, her legs were longer. Kate wanted to run to her and hold her, but Devin would think she was crazy. Devin had seen Kate just last night, when Kate had tucked her into bed. It hadn’t been a year for her. Devin didn’t know Kate had been asleep all this time.
So Kate just stood there and drank in the sight of her. Devin was the most gorgeous, unique creature Kate had ever known. She’d come out of the womb an individual, refusing to be defined by anyone. She didn’t even look like anyone on either side of their families. Matt’s family was so proud of their dark hair, a blue-black that had been the envy of generations, the way it caught the sun like a spiderweb. From Kate’s own side of the family, there was a gene that made their eyes so green that they could trick people into thinking that even the most unattractive Morris woman was pretty. And yet here was Devin, with fine cotton-yellow hair and light blue eyes, the left of which was a lazy eye. She’d had to wear an eye patch when she was three. And she’d loved it. She loved her knotted yellow hair. She loved wearing stripes with polka dots, and tutus, and pink and green socks with orange patent-leather shoes. Devin could care less what other people thought about her.
And that drove Cricket crazy.
How had Kate let this happen? How had she gotten to the point where she was slowly turning over control to the one person who wanted to change her daughter from the glorious thing she was? The very thing Kate used to be, that she used to be so proud of being? Kate swallowed before she felt she had the voice to say, “Hey, kiddo. What are you doing?”
Devin looked over her shoulder with a smile. “Mom! Look. This one is my favorite,” Devin said, pulling out a faded pink dress with a red plaid sash. The crinoline petticoat underneath was so old and stiff it made snapping sounds, like beads or fire embers. She dropped the dress over her head, over her clothes. It brushed the floor. “When I’m old enough for it to fit me, I’m going to wear it with purple shoes,” she said.
“A bold choice,” Kate said as Devin dove back into the trunk. The attic in Kate’s mother’s house had always fascinated Devin with its promise of hidden treasures. When Kate’s mother had been alive, she had let Devin eat Baby Ruth candy bars and drink grape soda and play in this old trunk full of dresses that generations of Morris women had worn to try entice rich men to marry them. Most of the clothes had belonged to Kate’s grandmother Marilee, a renowned beauty who, like all the rest, had fallen in love with a poor man instead.
“Who is Eby Pim?” Devin suddenly asked.
“Eby?” Kate walked over Devin, measuring her steps, trying not to seem too eager. Devin had climbed inside the large trunk. The only part of her visible was the vintage green cap she was now wearing. It had a long dramatic feather pinned to it, and as she moved her head, the feather wrote invisible letters in the air. Kate sat on the floor beside the trunk, as close as she could. “Eby was Grandmother Marilee’s sister. My great-aunt. Your great-great-aunt. I only met her once, but I thought she was wonderful. Different. A little scandalous.”
“What did she do?”
“Eby married a man with money, and her family expected her to share all that money with them,” Kate said. “But when they came back from their honeymoon, Eby and her husband suddenly decided to give all their money away. They sold their home in Atlanta and bought some swamp property down south. No one saw them for years and years. I was twelve the only time I met her. My mom and dad and I went to visit Eby after her husband died. There was a magical lake there where they’d made a living renting out cabins. I think that was probably the last best summer I ever had.”
“Can we go there?”
Her voice was small as it came from the trunk. It made Kate close her eyes with emotion. “I don’t know if it’s still there. It was a long time ago. What made you ask about her?” Kate asked. “Is there something of hers in there?”
Devin’s hand appeared from the trunk, holding an old postcard. “Just this postcard. It’s addressed to you.”
Kate took it. On one side were the vintage bubble words LOST LAKE, each letter large enough for a lake image to fit inside it.
Kate turned the card over. It was postmarked fifteen years ago, the last time Kate had seen Eby.
Kate, I know you enjoyed yourself here and didn’t want to leave. You’re welcome to come back anytime you’d like. I just wanted you to know. Love, Eby Pim