to trust them and, therefore, her world. Such a simple thing. I looked over at Simon, looking as trustworthy as they come. Anna had it now, but how long would it last? Until she was five? Eight? Eighteen? Would she be able to keep it her whole life? What age had I been when I’d lost mine?
Oh, crap. No good ever came from self-analysis. I shook my head and walked on.
We spent about half an hour handing over the cards, letting Cosmo and Anna flick through them, looking at the pictures, then went to Gerald and Ethel’s house.
Anna rushed to make the announcement. “Grampa, Grampa, Remington got some cards! Look.” She handed him some of the pile and he took them, turning them over in his hands, smiling.
He looked at me, and I swore I saw a twinkle before he handed a card to Remington, who sniffed it and jumped on the floor to sniff the others. Anna asked Ethel if she could hang the cards up like Christmas cards on a string and Ethel rolled her eyes but went to find the string, followed closely by Anna. Simon stood on the other side of the room, reading the inscriptions on the assortment of cards.
“I knew you’d come.” It was no more than a whisper, but I heard Gerald’s words clearly. I glanced at Simon—he hadn’t heard.
“Gerald?”
He looked out the window and nodded. “The rain will be good for my veggie patch.”
I felt Simon’s hand on my arm. “He’s not fully aware of what’s going on around him.”
I indicated with my eyes for Simon to follow me to the other side of the room. “He is sometimes, though, isn’t he? He’s said a few things to me which seemed to suggest he knew what he was saying.”
“He has moments of lucidity, but they’re pretty rare now. I haven’t seen him lucid in a long time.”
“I think I have. He was talking about Anna.”
Simon looked over at Gerald, still facing the street. “It’d be great for her if he was aware more, but I’m not getting my hopes up.”
“Daddy! Daddy! Look what we’re doing with Remington’s cards!”
While helping to hang the cards, I had another fleeting sense of the belonging I’d never had as a child. In our house, kids weren’t allowed to help trim the Christmas tree—we might damage the expensive glass ornaments. Our family had a designer holiday: from the tree to the house decorations to the mistletoe in the doorways. Stringing up Remington’s cards, however, had a warm, fuzzy feeling. Anna chatted away about the puppies with Simon asking encouraging questions, and even Gerald turned to watch us.
I picked up the last card. There was a Labrador puppy on the front with a ball. Inside were well wishes in a child’s handwriting. Part of me didn’t want to hang this last card, because it would end the coziness of the scene, but another part of me, possibly the louder part, wanted to toss the card in the bin, walk out, and leave all this silly wistfulness behind. I needed to go straight home to write the article and then put Los Alamos Court firmly in my past.
I looked up to find everyone watching me, waiting. I handed the card to Anna and she hung it.
*
Gnome-napping Traumatizes Beleaguered Santa Fe Street
By Tobi Fletcher
The aftershocks of the latest crime against gnomanity are still being felt across Santa Fe. A gnome has been gnome-napped and his friends are shaking their heads in concern.
The human residents of the street are dazed and upset. “He was such a charming little fellow,” neighbor Valentina de la Vega said yesterday, “always smiling and happy. He didn’t deserve this.”
Another neighbor, Anna Hanson, aged four, is more optimistic. “He’ll come back, because we’re having a gnome’s picnic on the weekend and he wouldn’t miss that.”
The missing gnome is six inches tall and is wearing a blue jacket and cap. He is smiling and looking to the left.
Anyone with information is urged to pass it on, care of this paper.
*
“Tobi, dahlin’.”
I winced at my mother’s voice down the
Oh, crap. No good ever came from self-analysis. I shook my head and walked on.
We spent about half an hour handing over the cards, letting Cosmo and Anna flick through them, looking at the pictures, then went to Gerald and Ethel’s house.
Anna rushed to make the announcement. “Grampa, Grampa, Remington got some cards! Look.” She handed him some of the pile and he took them, turning them over in his hands, smiling.
He looked at me, and I swore I saw a twinkle before he handed a card to Remington, who sniffed it and jumped on the floor to sniff the others. Anna asked Ethel if she could hang the cards up like Christmas cards on a string and Ethel rolled her eyes but went to find the string, followed closely by Anna. Simon stood on the other side of the room, reading the inscriptions on the assortment of cards.
“I knew you’d come.” It was no more than a whisper, but I heard Gerald’s words clearly. I glanced at Simon—he hadn’t heard.
“Gerald?”
He looked out the window and nodded. “The rain will be good for my veggie patch.”
I felt Simon’s hand on my arm. “He’s not fully aware of what’s going on around him.”
I indicated with my eyes for Simon to follow me to the other side of the room. “He is sometimes, though, isn’t he? He’s said a few things to me which seemed to suggest he knew what he was saying.”
“He has moments of lucidity, but they’re pretty rare now. I haven’t seen him lucid in a long time.”
“I think I have. He was talking about Anna.”
Simon looked over at Gerald, still facing the street. “It’d be great for her if he was aware more, but I’m not getting my hopes up.”
“Daddy! Daddy! Look what we’re doing with Remington’s cards!”
While helping to hang the cards, I had another fleeting sense of the belonging I’d never had as a child. In our house, kids weren’t allowed to help trim the Christmas tree—we might damage the expensive glass ornaments. Our family had a designer holiday: from the tree to the house decorations to the mistletoe in the doorways. Stringing up Remington’s cards, however, had a warm, fuzzy feeling. Anna chatted away about the puppies with Simon asking encouraging questions, and even Gerald turned to watch us.
I picked up the last card. There was a Labrador puppy on the front with a ball. Inside were well wishes in a child’s handwriting. Part of me didn’t want to hang this last card, because it would end the coziness of the scene, but another part of me, possibly the louder part, wanted to toss the card in the bin, walk out, and leave all this silly wistfulness behind. I needed to go straight home to write the article and then put Los Alamos Court firmly in my past.
I looked up to find everyone watching me, waiting. I handed the card to Anna and she hung it.
*
Gnome-napping Traumatizes Beleaguered Santa Fe Street
By Tobi Fletcher
The aftershocks of the latest crime against gnomanity are still being felt across Santa Fe. A gnome has been gnome-napped and his friends are shaking their heads in concern.
The human residents of the street are dazed and upset. “He was such a charming little fellow,” neighbor Valentina de la Vega said yesterday, “always smiling and happy. He didn’t deserve this.”
Another neighbor, Anna Hanson, aged four, is more optimistic. “He’ll come back, because we’re having a gnome’s picnic on the weekend and he wouldn’t miss that.”
The missing gnome is six inches tall and is wearing a blue jacket and cap. He is smiling and looking to the left.
Anyone with information is urged to pass it on, care of this paper.
*
“Tobi, dahlin’.”
I winced at my mother’s voice down the
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