dmumshed, and the invisible body of his son seemed to float out of his
embrace, as if the flesh had been transmuted entirely to spirit at long
last, as if Jim had no need of comforting or consolation any more.
Hatch lowered his arms.
Maybe from now on the bittersweet memory of a child lost would be only
the sweet memory of a child loved. And maybe, henceforth, it would not
be a memory so heavy that it oppressed the heart.
He stood among the roses.
The day was warm. The late-afternoon light was golden.
The sky was perfectly clear-and utterly mysterious.
Regina asked if she could have some of Lindsey’s paintings in her room,
and she sounded sincere. They chose three. Together they hammered in
picture hooks and hung the paintings where she wanted them-along with a
foot-tall crucifix she had brought from her room at the orphanage.
As they worked, Lindsey said, “How about dinner at a really super pura
parlor I know?”
“Yeah!” the girl said enthusiastically. “I love pizza.”
“They make it with a nice thick crust, lots of cheese.”
“Pepperoni?”
“Cut thin, but lots of it.”
“Sausage?”
“Sure, why not. Though you’re sure this isn’t getting to be a pretty
revolting pizza for a vegetarian like you?”
Regina blushed. “Oh, that. I was such a little shit that day. Oh,
jeeze sorry. I mean, such a ass. I mean, such a jerk.”
“That’s okay,” Lindsey said. “We all behave like jerks now and then.”
“You don’t. Mr. Harrison doesn’t.”
“Oh, just wait.” Standing on a stepstool in front of the wall opposite
the bed’ Lindsey pounded in a nail for a picture hook. Regina was
holding the painting for her. As she took it from the girl to hang it,
Lindsey said, “Listen, will you do me a favor at dinner tonight?”
“Favor? Sure?”
“I know it’s still awkward for you, this new arrangement. You don’t
really feel at home and probably won’t for a long time-”
“Oh, it’s very nice here,” the girl protested.
Lindsey slipped the wire over the picture hook and adjusted the painting
until it hung straight. Then she sat down on the stepstool, which just
about brought her and the girl eye to eye. She took hold of both of
Regina’s hands, the normal one and the different one. “You’re right
it’s very nice here. But you and I both know that’s not the same as
home. I wasn’t going to push you on this. I was going to let you take
your time, but.. . Even if it seems a liNe premature to you, do you
think tonight at dinner you could stop calling us Mr. and Mrs.
Harrison?
asked Hatch. It would be very important to him, just now, if you could
at least call him Hatch.”
The girl lowered her eyes to their interlocked hands. “Well, I guess
… sure… that would be okay.”
“And you know what? I realize this is asking more than it’s fair to ask
yet, before you really know him that well. But do you know what would
be the best thing in the world for him right now?”
The girl was still staring at their hands. “What?”
“If somehow you could find it in your heart to call him Dad. Don’t say
yes or no just now. Think about it. But it would be a wonderful thing
for you to do for him, for reasons I don’t have time to explain right
here. And I promise you this, Regina-he is a good man. He will do
anything for you, put his life on the line for you if it ever came to
that, and never ask for anything. He’d be upset if he knew I was even
asking you for this. But all I’m asking, really, is for you to think
about it.”
After a long silence, the girl looked up from their linked hands and
nodded. “Okay. I’ll think about it.”
“Thank you, Regirta.” She got up from the stepstool. “Now let’s hang
that last painting.”
Lindsey measured, penciled a spot on the wall, and nailed in a picture
hook.
When Regina handed over the painting, she said, “It’s just that all my