with the church, to come and tend them when he could.
The girls and I approached him from the parish parking lot.
I carried Sarah in my arms, though in Madison I had told her that, at four, she had grown much too old for Mommy to carry her around. Emily, however, smiled for the first time since I'd packed the two of them and three suitcases in the Bug.
"Granddaddy!" she yelled. As we reached the churchyard wall, Sarah slid down my side to the ground. My father turned and dropped his rake at the sight of us. Emily scrambled over the wall by using the horse-mount steps while I lifted Sarah up and over to join her.
After they had been introduced to the sheep, Sally and Edith and Phyllis, and my father had shown them how he cared for them—cleaned out their wooden shelter, filled bowls with food and water—and talked to Emily about a bully she was frightened of, the girls were content to play among the graves.
My father and I walked.
"I see it in your face," he said quietly as we crossed out of the churchyard and entered the newer section, where mowers, not sheep, were responsible for the maintenance of the flat markers.
"We're getting a divorce," I said.
Without speaking, the two of us sat down on a white marble bench donated by a family who had lost three of its members in a car crash.
We were silent for a moment, and I began to cry.
[83]
Alice Sebold
"I always think of how much life there is in the graveyard,"
my father said. "Flowers and grass grow better here than they do anywhere else."
I leaned my head into his shoulder. I had discovered a level of affection with Jake and knew I would miss it. I sensed my father's discomfort almost immediately. He pivoted ever so slightly, and I sat straight up.
"Have you seen your mother?" he asked.
"I couldn't bear to," I said. "I called from a pay phone, and she told me where you were."
"Will you move back home?"
"I'd like to be near you," I said, "but I think the girls need..."
"Of course," he said. "Of course."
I could see his mind working as I had hoped it might. I thought of the small glass-backed clock that sat on his dresser, how as a child I had watched it in fascination to see the brass gears moving inside the four beveled panes.
"Mr. Forrest has a friend, a real estate agent," he said. "There's a new development in the area near where your mother and I once looked. Nice two-stories, not split-levels."
"But..."
"It will be my gift." He patted my hand.
I stood and straightened my skirt. The ride from Wisconsin had been long and hot. Guiltily I watched his back as he moved closer to the churchyard and his grandchildren. I did not want to be like my mother. I did not want to depend on him.
[84]
S I X
I don't remember when Hamish finally roused. I had spent the intervening time staring into the dark, toward the Limerick nuclear towers, and thinking of my father.
In the night, at a nonparticular hour, the lights at Limerick begin to flash green, then red—the one color answering the call of the other. It was always a message Natalie and I imagined as an SOS, as if inhabitants were trapped inside the molten core and, under cover of darkness, were communicating with an unknown other on the outside.
When Hamish reached out for me, I had almost forgotten it all. How and why I had ended up where I was.
"I used to believe I had a female twin in the world somewhere,"
he said.
I stared blankly at him, but then the weight of his palm on my thigh jostled me back from where I'd been.
"That wasn't bullshit," he said. "I don't use that as a line."
I kissed Hamish slowly, as if they were true, those dreams of Alice S e bo Id
childhood—that we were adopted, that we had fallen whole from the sky, that our parents were not our parents but hologram projections that proved there was another world to be escaped into.
As the light blinked on and off in the distance outside the car, Hamish leaned into me. I felt his weight and breath and resilience.
He reached
The girls and I approached him from the parish parking lot.
I carried Sarah in my arms, though in Madison I had told her that, at four, she had grown much too old for Mommy to carry her around. Emily, however, smiled for the first time since I'd packed the two of them and three suitcases in the Bug.
"Granddaddy!" she yelled. As we reached the churchyard wall, Sarah slid down my side to the ground. My father turned and dropped his rake at the sight of us. Emily scrambled over the wall by using the horse-mount steps while I lifted Sarah up and over to join her.
After they had been introduced to the sheep, Sally and Edith and Phyllis, and my father had shown them how he cared for them—cleaned out their wooden shelter, filled bowls with food and water—and talked to Emily about a bully she was frightened of, the girls were content to play among the graves.
My father and I walked.
"I see it in your face," he said quietly as we crossed out of the churchyard and entered the newer section, where mowers, not sheep, were responsible for the maintenance of the flat markers.
"We're getting a divorce," I said.
Without speaking, the two of us sat down on a white marble bench donated by a family who had lost three of its members in a car crash.
We were silent for a moment, and I began to cry.
[83]
Alice Sebold
"I always think of how much life there is in the graveyard,"
my father said. "Flowers and grass grow better here than they do anywhere else."
I leaned my head into his shoulder. I had discovered a level of affection with Jake and knew I would miss it. I sensed my father's discomfort almost immediately. He pivoted ever so slightly, and I sat straight up.
"Have you seen your mother?" he asked.
"I couldn't bear to," I said. "I called from a pay phone, and she told me where you were."
"Will you move back home?"
"I'd like to be near you," I said, "but I think the girls need..."
"Of course," he said. "Of course."
I could see his mind working as I had hoped it might. I thought of the small glass-backed clock that sat on his dresser, how as a child I had watched it in fascination to see the brass gears moving inside the four beveled panes.
"Mr. Forrest has a friend, a real estate agent," he said. "There's a new development in the area near where your mother and I once looked. Nice two-stories, not split-levels."
"But..."
"It will be my gift." He patted my hand.
I stood and straightened my skirt. The ride from Wisconsin had been long and hot. Guiltily I watched his back as he moved closer to the churchyard and his grandchildren. I did not want to be like my mother. I did not want to depend on him.
[84]
S I X
I don't remember when Hamish finally roused. I had spent the intervening time staring into the dark, toward the Limerick nuclear towers, and thinking of my father.
In the night, at a nonparticular hour, the lights at Limerick begin to flash green, then red—the one color answering the call of the other. It was always a message Natalie and I imagined as an SOS, as if inhabitants were trapped inside the molten core and, under cover of darkness, were communicating with an unknown other on the outside.
When Hamish reached out for me, I had almost forgotten it all. How and why I had ended up where I was.
"I used to believe I had a female twin in the world somewhere,"
he said.
I stared blankly at him, but then the weight of his palm on my thigh jostled me back from where I'd been.
"That wasn't bullshit," he said. "I don't use that as a line."
I kissed Hamish slowly, as if they were true, those dreams of Alice S e bo Id
childhood—that we were adopted, that we had fallen whole from the sky, that our parents were not our parents but hologram projections that proved there was another world to be escaped into.
As the light blinked on and off in the distance outside the car, Hamish leaned into me. I felt his weight and breath and resilience.
He reached
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