Page 139 of The Seven Rings
“More like ten. Ten, twelve tops.” He sat with Jones on guard beside his chair.
“It’s that weird time deal. It was a party,” she began. “I think just after the turn of the century. Early nineteen hundreds. Moira and Owen Poole. Formal party, and I think spring or early summer. We could hear music from the ballroom, and we were out on the lawn. People were taking the air.”
Sonya looked at Owen.
“Yeah, fancy clothes, lots of jewelry. Full moon, clear skies.”
“That’s right. A full moon, clear skies. Beautiful evening. Owen and Moira—older than when I saw them in the woods. She was pregnant. Not showing. It was their conversation. It had to be one of their youngest.”
“Not Lissy?” Cleo asked.
“Going by the fashion, and roughly how much older they were, no. She had to be pregnant with Jack. And later…” She shook Dobbs away to tell it all in order. “They started to go back in, and we weren’t sure if we should follow. Then…”
She had to pause, and lifted the tea Trey made her.
“Dobbs?”
She shook her head. “No, not then. My father. My father, standing there watching like we were. He was about thirty, not much more than thirty, I guess, wearing his old Boston U T-shirt.”
She cleared her throat. “He looked sleepy. I mean, like he’d been sleeping. Sometimes, when a painting wasn’t going well, he’d take what he called an inspiration nap. Five or ten minutes on this old sofa in his studio. He looked like that. He thought he was dreaming. He spoke out loud, and thought he dreamed it all.”
“I’ve seen the pictures.” Owen spoke to give Sonya time to steady again. “Yeah, they looked alike. At first, I thought it was Collin.”
“He’d come through the mirror,” Trey said. “Your dad.”
“Yes, though we didn’t see him come through. But there he was, and I called out to him, and ran to him. But he didn’t hear me, and I went right through him. It’s not like that for me and Owen, for each other. For each other we’re there, ah, corporeal. But I couldn’t touch my dad. He felt me, though. Felt something.
“He looked at me. He didn’t see me, but for just a second, he looked at me. He sensed something. Then… Owen.”
“Dobbs.” He snapped his fingers. “Just there. Sonya’s dad saw her, too. And said something like she wasn’t one of them. The people at the party.”
“He’d have noticed she was dressed differently, she looked out of place. He noticed things.”
“She didn’t. Notice us,” Owen added. “She was focused on him, and she knew who he was.”
“Your father,” Trey supplied.
“It pissed her off, you could see it.” Owen tossed back more whiskey. “Maybe she wanted to do something, but Sonya called him. Not this Sonya, kid Sonya, through the mirror. He said: ‘Sonya’s calling me. Time to wake up.’ And he went to the mirror, went through before Dobbs reached him.
“That pissed her off even more. She took a swing at the mirror.”
“It stopped her. I think it hurt her.”
“Damn right. Bloodied her knuckles. She punched at the glass, but couldn’t hit it, and yanked her hand back. I saw some pain as well as mad and crazy.”
“She said she should’ve smothered him the night he was born. Pick one—like Patricia made her daughter pick one baby to keep. That he—my father—brought trouble.”
“That would be you.”
Sonya nodded at Cleo. “That would be me. I like knowing I give her trouble. She had four rings, and said the fifth was tucked into bed—Lisbeth. Soon enough she’d be a bride. She laughed, lifted her arms. Wind, thunder, lightning, rain.”
Sonya heaved out a breath. “She poofed; we came back.”
“You left out the rings.”
“I said she wore four.”
“No, I mean, before she lifted her arms up to do the crazy bring the storm shit, and during, they went all, you know, glittery.”
