WHEREVER ELLIE WENT, she felt in the way. After the nice detective left, she tried to find Mommy, but Mrs. Hilmer said that the doctor had given her something to help her rest. Daddy spent almost all the time in his little den with the door closed. He said he wanted to be left alone.
Grandma Reid, who lived in Florida, came up late Saturday afternoon, but all she did was cry.
Mrs. Hilmer and some of Mommy’s friends from her bridge club sat in the kitchen. Ellie heard one of them, Mrs. Storey, say, “I feel so useless, but I also feel as though seeing us around may make Genine and Ted realize they’re not alone.”
Ellie went outside and got on the swing. She pumped her legs until the swing went higher and higher. She wanted it to go over the top. She wanted to fall from the top and hit the ground and hurt herself. Then maybe she’d stop hurting inside.
It had stopped raining, but there still was no sun and it was cold. After a while, Ellie knew that it was no use; the swing wouldn’t go over the top. She went back into the house, entering the small vestibule off the kitchen. She heard Joan’s mother’s voice. She was with the other ladies now, and Ellie could tell that she was crying. “I was surprised that Andrea left so early. It was dark out, and it crossed my mind to drive her home. If only . . .”
Then Ellie heard Mrs. Lewis say, “If only Ellie had told them that Andrea used to go to that garage that the kids called ‘the hideout.’ Ted might have gotten there in time.”
“If only Ellie . . .”
Ellie went up the back stairs, careful to walk very quietly so they wouldn’t hear her. Grandma’s suitcase was on her bed. That was funny. Wasn’t Grandma going to sleep in Andrea’s room? It was empty now.
Or maybe they’d let her sleep in Andrea’s room. Then, if she woke up tonight, she could pretend that Andrea would be coming back any minute.
The door to Andrea’s room was closed. She opened it as quietly as she always did on Saturday mornings when she’d peek in to see if Andrea was still sleeping.
Daddy was standing at Andrea’s desk. He was holding a framed picture in his hands. Ellie knew it was the baby picture of Andrea, the one in the silver frame that had “Daddy’s Little Girl” engraved across the top.
As she watched, he lifted the top of the music box. That was another present he had bought for Andrea right after she was born. Daddy joked that Andrea never wanted to go to sleep when she was a baby, and so he’d wind up the music box and dance around the room with her and play the song from it, singing the words softly, until she dozed off.
Ellie had asked if he did that with her, too, but Mommy said no, because she was always a good sleeper. From the day she was born, she’d been no trouble at all.
Some of the song’s words ran through Ellie’s head as the music drifted through the room. “ . . . You’re daddy’s little girl to have and to hold. . . . You’re the spirit of Christmas, my star on the tree. . . . And you’re daddy’s little girl.”
As she watched, Daddy sat on the edge of Andrea’s bed and began to sob.
Ellie backed out of the room, closing the door as quietly as she had opened it.