Out of Reach: A Novel Read Free Page B

pulled into her driveway. It was a small, two-story redbrick house in Arlington, one of the quiet suburban neighborhoods servicing the metropolitan D.C. area. She’d bought it ten months earlier, before moving Janie and Marta north from Miami.
    She’d never pictured herself as a home owner, and certainly not a resident of the suburbs. But with her mother’s death, everything in her life had changed. Even this. Janie needed a place to be a child, a family area where she could grow up. Even if the only family she had was an unconventional aunt, an aging family friend, and a mother who’d spent most of the last seven years in and out of various mental institutions.
    As Erin pushed through the back door, Janie looked up from the kitchen table and grinned. “Come see what I made, Aunt Erin.”
    Erin’s mood lifted. No matter how frustrated she’d become with her job, she loved having this little girl in her life. The realization had come to her gradually these last few months and had surprised her. She’d never thought of herself as the maternal type, but her niece had crept into her heart and taken hold.
    Closing the door, she went to see Janie’s latest creation.
    “You like it?” Janie asked, eyes wide. “It’s for Mommy. I want her to know what my new school looks like.”
    “It’s great.”
    Janie’s talent was unmistakable. Even Erin, who had no experience with children, could see the child had a special gift. She’d used colored pencils to draw her school, an older, three-story brick monstrosity, flag in front, children’s drawings in the windows. On the sidewalk in front of the building walked a little girl with curly blond hair, two women at her side.
    Erin recognized herself on Janie’s right: an angular woman of medium height, thick dark hair—her one good feature—cut short because she didn’t have the patience to mess with it, and a little wild looking because even short it took too much time to style. Marta walked on Janie’s left: smaller, older, and rounder, with a noticeably maternal air.
    Erin had taught Janie to pay attention, to notice her surroundings, the small details in everyday things. And people. But her talent for putting what she saw onto paper was all her own.
    “It’s the first day of school,” Janie explained. “Remember? When you went with us?”
    “I do.” Janie’s eye for detail translated into a realism Erin found difficult to believe came from seven-year-old hands. “And I knew exactly what day it was.” She ruffled Janie’s hair.
    Just then, Marta entered the kitchen, a basket of laundry in her arms. “You’re home early.”
    “I got lucky. No students pounding on my door today. Here”—Erin started toward the older woman—“let me help.”
    “Don’t be silly.” Marta sidestepped her and crossed to the basement door. “I may not be as young as some people, but I’m still capable of carrying a basket of dirty clothes.”
    “Erin likes my drawing, Marta.” Janie had returned to her colored pencils, adding a few straggly flowers along the edge of the building.
    “Of course she does, dear,” Marta said, and disappeared down the stairs.
    “Your flowers look sad,” Erin said, referring again to Janie’s drawing.
    “That’s because they know summer is over, and soon it will be cold outside.”
    “Do you miss Florida, sweetie?” Erin asked, trying to keep the concern from her voice. “Because remember, you and Marta are going down for a visit next week when your school closes.”
    “I know.” Janie went back to her picture. “I miss Grandma. But it’s nice here, too. I can’t wait to see the trees change colors.”
    “Aren’t you excited about the trip?” None of them had been back to Miami since moving north, but with two teacher work days coming up, Marta had thought it would be a good opportunity to take Janie home for a visit.
    Janie shrugged.
    Erin stroked her fingers through Janie’s bright curls, wondering if she should say more.