Page 126 of Haunt Me

And that’s how, shyly and extremely awkwardly, we finally start talking.

At some point, Eden’s dad walks to where I’m sitting with the girls, and I stand up so fast, I get a head rush.

“Thank you,” he whispers, “thank you, Isaiah.”

He bows his head to me. He bows his literal head. Then he gives me his hand to shake. He doesn’t say anything else. No introductions, nothing else. Just ‘thank you’. Then his eyes start leaking.

“Dad,” someone hisses—Faith—but even she stops. Everything stops, as if everyone around us is holding their breath. I feel off-kilter. I don’t know what to say.

A tall, strong man like that, crying like a child as he thanks me.

“I knew you were her father instantly, Mr. Elliot,” is all I can say. I keep repeating it over and over. “I knew you were hers.”

He is crying so much he can’t talk. And then, finally, he says:

“Call me Walter, for Pete’s sake.” As if we are family. Then he wipes his eyes, right there, in front of everyone, unashamed of his tears. “You took care of my girl when I couldn’t.”

I don’t know if I should nod or just shrivel up and die. The carpet doesn’t seem to be giving any indication of being about to swallow me up, so that’s a bummer.

“Let’s sit down, Dad,” Manuela’s voice says in a quiet, gentle tone, which, by the way, she has never once used with me.

I didn’t even know she was capable of it.

…

It’s two hours later, and we haven’t moved from the couch. We’ve just been sitting here, talking.

Well, I don’t know if what we are doing could be classified as ‘talking’. It’s more having several conversations at once, words overlapping and leading to hilarious misunderstandings and entanglements of different meanings. Half the time we are just repeating what we just said, so that the other person can hear over all the clamor. What is time? It has completely stopped to exist as a concept.

At some point, Justin gets up to bring snacks and coffee and we gulp everything hungrily while still talking over each other. Manuela tells me privately that Eden is upstairs in her room, gathering her courage to climb down the stairs. I nod, as if I’m calm, and meanwhile my heart is hammering, my breath stopping every time Eden’s name is so much mentioned—and it’s mentioned a lot. I am a mess. I hope she doesn’t come down those stairs.

I hope she comes down those stairs.

I don’t know what I hope for. Whatever she decides to do, I hope I can stand it.

Saint Hope is such a sadist.

And then, as if Saint Hope wasn’t torment enough, Eden walks in.

A hush falls over the room, which, I’m sure, isn’t helping, but there is nothing else we can do when she appears, moving like an angel, her chin lifted with courage, her lips trembling. Pooh is trotting along by her heels like a fierce, tiny bodyguard—even though he jumps into my lap the minute he spots me. I rub his ears without taking my eyes off Eden.

The minute I see her, my knees go weak. Her hair is down, cascading in soft curls around her head, and she is wearing skinny jeans and an oversized red Chicago Bulls hoodie that falls down to her knees. Only the tips of her fingers are visible inside the enormous sleeves—and they are shaking. I swallow, hard.

Her hair looks so healthy and luscious and… different. Will I ever get used to it glowing like this? Was she so beautiful the last time I saw her? Was the smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks so damn irresistible? Was she this ethereal, this otherworldly?

I thought I had imagined it. Her. I thought I had imagined her.

She focuses her gaze on me. Did her eyes always widen like that whenever she saw me, as if she is in pain? And did it always make me go hot and cold all over?

“Eden,” I whisper, as if we are alone.

“Hi,” she says shyly.

I stand up and my legs nearly give out on me. Faith quickly stands next to me and grabs hold of my elbow, clutching me so tightly I wouldn’t be able to snatch my arm away if I wanted to. But I don’t. She’d better keep holding me upright or I am going down.

“Hi, sweetheart,” her dad walks up to meet her, all choked up. “There is someone here to meet you.” He wraps a hand around her waist—Eden is shaking so much her teeth are nearly chattering.

“Why are you crying?” she asks him abruptly, and then her eyes travel to mine. I quickly look away, but I know she’s already seen how red they are. “I can’t believe this! I leave you guys alone forone secondand you all start crying in tandem? You too, Dad? Manuela? I am so ashamed of you.”

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