Part 7
Alyssa called nine months later and invited them to the orchard on a Sunday afternoon.
Contact had grown in small, uneven pieces. First came two photographs through Erin: Nora asleep beneath the crooked mobile, Sadie on the rug outside the crib. Then a brief video of Nora crawling toward a wooden spoon.
There were weeks without messages, and Mara learned not to fill them with requests. When Alyssa called on her own, Mara answered without reminding her how long it had been.
Nora was almost fifteen months old now, round-cheeked and determined, with a faint white mark on her heel and no patience for shoes.
Alyssa looked tired. There were crumbs on her shirt, and she lost her phone twice during the visit before discovering it in the stroller pocket. She also knew exactly when Nora needed lunch, which cup she would throw, and how long to wait before helping her climb down from a low step.
Inside the kitchen, the blue binder stood between a cookbook and a stack of utility bills. It had grown thicker. Alyssa had added pediatric appointments, new foods, two emergency numbers, and a page titled Things Nora Thinks Are Funny.
The first item was sneezing. The second was Ben dropping his keys during a video call.
Mara ran a finger over the softened cover but did not open it.
“I nearly didn’t ask you to come,” Alyssa said behind her.
Mara turned. “Why did you?”
Alyssa picked cracker crumbs from the stroller tray. “She lights up when you and Ben are on the screen. And I hated those first pictures. I saved every one. I don’t know what to do with both things except let you come.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Mara considered the easy answer and left it alone. “Not all of it.”
Alyssa nodded once, carried the cup outside, and Mara followed.
Sadie had gained twelve pounds. Her coat shone in the sun, though she still favored the right paw after running and refused to cross the shallow drainage channel at the end of Denise’s yard.
No one coaxed her over it. A plank bridge had been laid across, and Sadie used it when she chose.
Ben sat with Denise beneath a cherry tree while Alyssa spread a blanket on the grass. Nora carried a plastic cup from one adult to another, offering each person the same crushed piece of cracker.
When she reached Mara, she raised both arms.
Mara wanted to lift the child, fit the familiar weight against her left side, and breathe in the warm place beneath her hair.
She looked at Alyssa. “Okay?”
Alyssa nodded, and Mara picked Nora up.
The child patted her cheek, studied her as if comparing a present face with an old memory, and then tucked her head beneath Mara’s chin. Mara closed her eyes for one breath.
When Nora leaned toward Alyssa, Mara returned her without waiting to be asked.
Later, Nora stood in the grass between her mother’s knees and took three unsteady steps toward the blanket. Her bare foot caught on the turned edge.
Sadie’s head came up against Mara’s shoe, and Mara’s hands lifted from her lap.
Alyssa caught Nora beneath the arms. The child squealed, delighted by the fall, and demanded to be set upright again.
Mara leaned forward and smoothed the folded edge of the blanket. Beside her, Sadie lowered her chin into Mara’s palm while Nora tried again, this time toward her mother.