Page 120 of The Seven Miracles of Beatrix Holland
The deep thud of disappointment was followed by a jolt that shot through her. “Wait, go back a second.Astrid?I mean, I know you danced, but…”
He stiffened slightly. “She was my wife, Beatrice.”
“Yeah, well, she’s not the wife I ever saw you with. When did you talk to her?”
With a shrug, he said, “Last night. This morning.”
Something small and metallic frizzled in Beatrice’s head. “You—no. You didn’t. No.”
“She needed comfort. She was upset.”
Should Beatrice laugh? Should she cringe? “I can’t believe you.”
“Fair enough. She can’t believe you, for what it’s worth.”
“Whatever.” Great. Now she sounded as old as she felt, which was considerably younger than Minna. Next, she’d be lying on the floor, forcing people to step over her while she howled.
“She said you’re exactly like her.”
“Excuse me? No.”
“And I have to agree.”
How was this getting worse? “You think I’m like the woman who abandoned me as a baby?”
“You’re both stubborn as an exhausted geriatric mule.”
“I get that fromyou.”
“Maybe. But unlike me, both of you think you can control the universe. Both of you think that if you have enough facts backing you up, that you’re right.”
But that was basically just science. “If the facts back us up, weareright.”
A long, unfillable pause stretched between them. Then her father said, “Besides letting Cordelia go, the worst thing I ever did in my life was teaching you to rely on information.”
“Instead of what, exactly?”
“Instead of your gut. Your heart. Anything but your brain.”
Too angry to speak, she sipped her (cool) cappuccino.
After they had finished their coffees in uncomfortable silence, Mitchell said he had to get back to the house. He didn’t need to say which one he meant.
“I’ll walk you there.”
With a chagrined look, he said, “You might not be, ah, very welcome at the moment.”
“I can handle it.” What was the worst Cordelia could do to her? Okay, fine, truthfully, she didn’t know the answer to that.Couldshe turn her into a toadstool? Curse her to knit straw into railroad tracks?
Some of this, yes, was Beatrice’s fault. But Minna had lied to her, and neither Cordelia nor Astrid had trusted her with the full truth. Beatrice had to at least try to help find Minna, to make sure she was safe. She had only one goddammed miracle left and she couldn’t leave Minna without—no. Unable to even think it, she walked next to her father, passing the bookstore and the butcher and the pocket park next to the elementary school.I will do this. I will figure out how to help.
She continued her affirmations right up till the very moment she opened the bottom gate and looked up at the porch.
Reno leaned against the railing, despair etched on her angular face. She was wearing the dark watch cap she’d worn the night before, and her shoulders drooped with exhaustion.
But when Reno saw her, she straightened. Slowly.
Her eyes flashed like a lighthouse’s beam.
