The Shadow Wife

“We shouldn’t be out here,” Carlynn said. “We’re both going to get sick, sitting on the terrace in the cold.”

“You can heal us, then,” Lisbeth said, and Carlynn looked at her quizzically.

“That sounded snide,” she said. “Did you mean it that way, Lizzie?”

It was a moment before Lisbeth answered. “Sorry,” she said. “I just…it still amazes me, that’s all. How do you do it?” She turned to her sister. “How did you fix Penny’s leg?”

It was not the first time Lisbeth had asked Carlynn about her healing skills, but this time the tone of her voice was marked more by envy than curiosity.

“I don’t understand any more than you do, Lizzie,” Carlynn said. “Maybe Penny’s leg wasn’t really broken. Maybe she just scared herself when she fell.”

“I saw it. It was twisted up.”

Carlynn gently let one of her feet touch one of Lisbeth’s. “I have to be touching the person,” she said. “At least I know that much. But other than that, what I do doesn’t seem like anything special. I’m not a magician. It’s just that when I’m touching a person, I think only about him or her. I try to send them all my love, everything good that’s inside me. I concentrate really hard.”

“It’s amazing,” Lisbeth said, shaking her head in quiet wonder.

“Do you remember Presto?” Carlynn asked. “The night before he was going to be put to sleep?”

“Of course.” Lisbeth nodded. Presto had lived for three more years after that night.

“All night long I lay next to him with my arms around him, and I prayed. I just kept hoping and praying he would get well.”

“Is it praying, then?” Lisbeth asked. “Is that what you’re doing?”

“Not always. I’ve sort of experimented with it,” Carlynn admitted. “Sometimes I pray. Sometimes I just think as hard as I can about the person I’m touching. It doesn’t seem to matter what I do. The only thing I know for sure is that, afterward, I’m more tired than you can imagine.”

Lisbeth knew this. She had seen her sister after her visits to Letterman Hospital. It was all Carlynn could do to drag herself upstairs to bed, and she would sleep so deeply that nothing could wake her for hours.

“You must be tired now,” she said.

Carlynn nodded, then rested her head on Lisbeth’s shoulder.

“I wish you could talk more easily to people, Lizzie,” she said. “They won’t bite.”

“Well, I can’t,” Lisbeth said a bit defensively. Then she sighed. “It’s just one more thing you can do better than I can.”

The following day was a glorious clear Sunday, and Franklin invited his daughters to go sailing with him. Only Lisbeth accepted, just as he’d expected. As he’d hoped. He’d observed his less popular daughter at the party the night before and wanted some time alone with her.

They set sail on the bay in his small sloop, and he allowed Lisbeth to take over once they’d motored away from the pier. The sea was calm, a sheet of pale aquamarine glass, but there was a good headwind, and Lisbeth showed real skill as she tacked far out into the open bay.

“You’re getting very good at this, Lisbeth,” Franklin said.

“Not very hard today,” she said. “The water’s so smooth.” But she was smiling at the compliment all the same. She leaned back on her hands, eyes closed, her pretty face turned up to the sunlight.

“Did you enjoy the party last night?” Franklin asked.

“Yes,” she said without opening her eyes.

“What did you like about it?”

She shrugged. “The music, I guess.”

Franklin licked his lips, letting a silence form between them as he tried to think of what he could say next.

“I have the feeling it was not much fun for you, honey,” he said finally, and then quickly added, “And that’s all right. I never much enjoyed parties either when I was your age.”

She opened her eyes to look at him. “You didn’t?” she asked.

He smiled. “I was actually a lot like you, Lizzie. My brother—your uncle Steve—was always the popular one, the one who commanded attention. He was more intelligent than I was, better-looking and far more interesting to the girls. I was the shy one, always afraid to say anything in case I sounded stupid.”

She looked surprised. “But you’re much smarter and nicer than Uncle Steve,” she said, then added, “No offense. I know he’s your brother.”

He laughed. “That’s my point, sweetheart. As I grew up, I got more confident. What I was like when I was sixteen didn’t matter anymore.”

Lisbeth looked out to the vast Pacific, where the air was growing hazy with fog, a crease between her eyebrows.

“You’ll blossom, Lizzie. Someday. It can’t be rushed, and you’ll need to be patient. But you have a lot of happiness ahead of you, and you’ll probably appreciate it more than Carlynn, because she’s known nothing else.”

Lisbeth smoothed her hand across the gunwale. “I don’t really want Carlynn to be unhappy, though.” She looked past the sails at her father.