“There has to be a way to bring her back to us,” Natalia continued to say.
“If I knew what that was, I would do it,” Annie told her.
“Maybe we should get to know that fellow of hers,” Natalia said.
“Absolutely not,” Annie had told her mother. “Not him.”
“Give Ama a big hug from me,” Claire said when her mother was about to set off for the city.
“Can you keep an eye on your sister?”
“Absolutely,” Claire said, even though she knew Elv had been in a wretched mood since her return.
When her mother left, Claire gazed out the window. A robin was hopping about on the lawn. It made her think of the baby bird they’d found and the necklace of bones Elv had made. She wondered if she was the only one in the world who thought the things Elv did were beautiful: the robin necklace and the tattoo of roses, the language made up of words that sounded like birdsong.
After a while Meg came down and they sat there together in their nightgowns—presents from their grandmother, the smocking stitched by hand—and had a quick breakfast. They went back upstairs and got dressed. Claire pulled on jeans and boots and a sweatshirt. She’d packed her gym bag with her equestrian equipment, her helmet and gloves. She had taken up riding again and it was a perfect day for going to the stables. Claire had completely recovered from her broken bones, although she still had twinges on humid days. She could always tell when it was about to rain. It had taken a while for her to get over her fear of falling, but she’d done so with practice. Now she was horse crazy. That was the best thing about spring finally arriving. She would be able to ride every weekend.
Meg was heading out with Claire. She’d study for the SATs in the tack room at the stables, where she could curl up on an old leather couch. She was also bringing along her copy of To the Lighthouse to reread as a treat if she happened to finish studying. The truth was, she didn’t like to stay alone in the house with Elv. Not that Meg would ever consider riding. She wouldn’t even try it when Claire begged, insisting they’d have great fun. Meg was afraid of horses. She’d seen how hard and how fast the carriage horse in the park had gone down. She’d felt the thud right up through the tires of the police car.
They were just about to leave when Elv came into the kitchen. She’d slept for seventeen hours and was groggy. She got herself a cup of coffee, then sat down at the table and pinched one of Claire’s half-eaten waffles. Her skin was pale and she was wearing a velvet headband, the one she’d stolen from Meg. “I miss Lorry,” she said plaintively. She sounded almost human.
“Who’s Lorry?” Meg asked Claire when Elv went to get herself some juice.
“He’s her boyfriend. He gave her the ring she wears.”
“He must have been the one who was in Ama’s apartment.” Meg went to rinse the dishes and load them in the dishwasher. Then she got her jacket and Claire’s. “Let’s go.”
Elv was drinking right out of the container of orange juice. She had to fill up the next few weeks until she at last turned eighteen and no one could tell her whom to love and how to live her life. “Where’re you going?” she asked when her sisters headed for the door. “Where’s Mom?”
“She went to see Ama.” It was so beautiful outside Claire didn’t think she needed a jacket, but when Meg handed her one, she put it on anyway. “She’ll be back at dinnertime. We’re going to the stables.”
“Wait a minute,” Elv said. She didn’t want to be alone.
“We’re already late,” Meg said. “Come on.” She guided Claire toward the back door. “We have to go.”
“I know more about horses than the two of you put together,” Elv said. “I ran the stables at Westfield. I wasn’t some spoiled brat who has a hired hand to pick up the shit and clean out hooves. I did it all.”
“Let’s go,” Meg said to Claire. She had the curdled feeling she had whenever Elv was around.
Elv put the OJ container on the counter. She wanted to have fun, the way they used to. “I can give you a ride,” she said. “You’ll get there on time.”
“I don’t think so.” Meg was disgusted. She wasn’t about to be won over by Elv’s tricks. “You don’t have a car.”
“I’ll get Dad’s.”
Meg elbowed Claire. “Come on.”
“Seriously,” Elv said.
“She’s a good driver,” Claire told Meg.
Elv sent her a grateful look.
Meg opened the door. “Let’s go.”
“See you later,” Claire called to Elv as they headed for the door.
“Alligator,” Elv called back.
They looked at each other and laughed.
MEG AND CLAIRE cut across the lawn, then started down the street. The lawns themselves looked blue, as if the sky had somehow been reversed. There were robins in the trees, on the fences, in the grass. The lawn where Pretzel had always been tied up looked empty. The grass there was ruined.
“She’s really not that bad,” Claire told Meg.
Meg’s book bag was slung over her shoulder. She was wearing a pair of black leather boots, a short denim jacket, and khaki slacks. Her hair was pulled back. “Bad is a relative concept.”
There was still a crust of snow and ice on some lawns. They had to walk three miles, but Meg and Claire didn’t mind. On their way they sang Beatles songs, their mother’s favorites. They sang “Imagine” as high as their voices could go, then exploded into giggles. Halfway to the stables, they heard a car behind them. Somebody honked. They turned and saw the Miata. Claire laughed and ran over to the car. The top was down and there was Elv, driving. She looked like a movie star.