Page 28 of In All My Dreams

I look at the clock on the dashboard; it’s already 6:00 p.m. The hospital nurse reminded me that visiting hours end at 9:00 p.m. and that nobody under twelve was allowed in the ICU. That gives us just enough time to grab food, pack a bag for Dad, get Auden to sleep, and still have time to make it back to the hospital. “Yeah, that sounds great. I’d like to put Auden to bed before going back to check on Dad. And I need to wash the smell of your dad’s hug off of me, so maybe hit that gas peddle a little harder, Foster.”

Ian flashes me one of those smiles that I swear was made just for me, the one that Auden most definitely got from him, then turns toward town.

Leaving me with another bout of déjà vu as both worry and hope eat at my insides.

14

Georgia

Now

Fueled by real coffee,notshitty hospital coffee, Auden and I walk hand in hand toward my parents’ room after stopping to get her pajamas on. She always looks so precious in her floral sleep set. Like a little grown-up in a tiny body.

She was more than happy to help me pack a bag for my dad. Mrs. Foster helped her make a get-well card while they hung out today, easing my feelings of uneasiness toward her a bit. I’m scared she’ll realize Auden is Ian’s daughter the more she gets to know her. Auden is so much like Irene, it’s just a matter of time before Mrs. Foster strings my lies together and figures it out.

When Auden showed us the card at dinner, my heart nearly cracked in two. She drew a willow tree on the front with pretty purple flowers she said she saw at the Fosters’ house. The flowers form a heart around the tree, and she wrote “get well soon Papa” over the top in blue crayon. On the inside, there are four hand-drawn people and one orange tabby cat. The four people are holding hands with giant smiles on their faces.

Me, Auden, Ian, and my father, standing in front of Crane Manor.

Under it, she wrote, “I love my family so much.”

Shortly after Ian saw the card, he made an excuse to go back to his parents’ house to check on his mom. He walked out the back door, those broad shoulders sagged with defeat.

When it’s the three of us, it feels like we are the family we should be. I can see it in his eyes; he adores Auden. But he’s also cautious around her. Like he’s too scared to let her in.

You should just tell him.

“Mama, did you know Ian had a twin sister? Her name was Irene, like the name in the tree,” Auden says once we enter my parents’ room.

I stop and look down at her, her hand still clutched tightly in mine. “Yes, I did know that. How do you know about Irene?”

“Mrs. Foster showed me a lot of photos of when Ian was little like me.” She toes the beige carpet, swaying back and forth nervously.

I stoop to her level, grabbing both of her little hands, turning her toward me. “Honey, what’s wrong?”

Her lower lip trembles. “Mama, I did something bad.” Her freckles shine brightly on her skin as she looks down at her feet.

“You can tell me, whatever it is. We can fix it,” I say softly, squeezing her hands reassuringly.

She lets go of my hands, reaching into the chest pocket of her pajamas, and pulls out a folded piece of paper, handing it to me without looking at me. I take it, unfolding it carefully.

It’s a photo of Ian, Irene, and myself in front of the willow tree. The three of us holding hands, smiling wide at the camera. Ian is in the middle, always sandwiched by Irene and I. Tears prickle behind my eyes as I gaze down at the three of us.

How could the smiles on these three kids have broken so much just a few weeks after this was taken?

“Mrs. Foster says I look like her.” Auden points to Irene. Irene’s dark hair is in pigtails, hanging over her sunflower-yellow overalls in the photo. Her and Ian both wore matching smiles and squinty eyes as the sun blinded the three of us.

I wipe a tear away, sniffling loudly as I look up into my daughter’s eyes.Their eyes.“You do look like her, don’t you?” I smile at her. A sad smile that I hope she can’t decipher.

“I think I look more like you. And I have freckles that match Papa’s.” She smiles, pointing at her face and then mine. “You do, too.”

“Papa calls our freckles his own little constellations. We all have matching ones because we all belong together. At least, that’s what he used to tell me when I was little like you.”

Auden smiles at that, touching her own freckles, lost in thought.

“You said you did something bad?”

“I stole the picture for you. I’m sorry, Mama,” she tells me, playing with the hem of her pajamas. “I thought you might be happier if you had a photo of your friends.”

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