Invisible Ellen (28 page)

E
llen stood gazing in the small mirror she'd uncovered above her sink. Her dark hair was pulled back and her round brown eyes stared with awed disbelief. Two round eyes. The left brow, which had been cruelly drawn downward by the burn, half closing her left eye, was now released and reshaped. The scar lines from the surgery six months ago were still red but growing fainter, and between them—though she still couldn't quite fathom how—smooth skin was healing. Her cheek and eye were whole again. The many weeks of not being able to chew solid food properly, as well as a diet supervised by Temerity and Justice, had made her drop almost eighty pounds, and she found that she had gained a face but lost a chin. Now she was down to one, still plump but strong enough on its own to support her new look.

There was a knock on her door. “Yeah?” she called out, turning self-consciously as though she'd been caught doing something naughty.

“It's me!” Temerity called through the door. “Dr. Amanda's here. Dinner's almost ready, and I want you to hear the piece I'm working on.”

Ellen shifted her weight. Though she'd endured months of doctors,
nurses and other strangers studying her and had learned to suffer the exchanges without too much awkwardness, it was still a conscious skirmish for her to knowingly interact with anyone besides Justice and Temerity.

“Uh, sure. I'll be right down.”

She glanced up at a corner of the mirror, where a snapshot, taped to an index card, was fixed. The picture was of a small, wiry poodle, looking far more furry and fat than when last she'd seen it, held by tobacco-stained hands, across the top of which were visible the fangs of a snake tattoo. On the card under the picture were scribbled the words “Loving life in Arizona!”

Ellen had been bewildered to find the envelope, addressed to her, at her apartment when she'd gone to move her things out. J.B. had apparently known more about her existence than she'd realized, and the note that she had left on top of the soup container that day so long ago, telling him where the little dog had been taken and to try matching the bite mark on the shooter's hand to the dog's teeth, had not gone unheeded. The detective had been able to prove that the same man who shot J.B. had attacked and killed Curtain Connie. The little dog had bitten his mistress's attacker, providing proof of the crime and of his faithful, canine heart.

J.B. had found out about Ellen and her efforts on his behalf when Justice had told him all about it the day he delivered the welcome package of cash.

Ellen brushed her straight hair and then refastened it back with a clip. Turning her face from side to side, she stared, incredulous, at the face she had never imagined she would have.

Then, taking a deep breath and clapping her hands together to muster some courage, she went downstairs—in her stocking feet.

Temerity was standing under the window, tuning her violin. Justice was cooking, chopping and tossing green beans into a pot, but he paused to listen to the pretty blonde doctor sitting at the counter. Amanda turned and smiled at Ellen's entrance, but her wave turned to a pointed finger, which she used to accentuate a point in her spirited argument with Justice. He leaned across, snatched the hand, and kissed it.

Embarrassed by the show of affection and still hesitant to join the group, Ellen made her way to the sofa, but no closer, and stood on one foot as she twisted a strand of hair with her left hand, fighting the impulse to pull it down across her face.

“Hello,” a soft voice said from a foot away.

Jumping slightly, Ellen looked down to see that the high-backed armchair was occupied. Rupert too, it seemed, had cozied himself away from the others, preferring to sit and listen and watch at the edge.

Ellen took up her spot in the corner of the sofa, pulling a half-asleep Mouse into her lap. He opened his mouth in a silent
eh-eh-eh
, looked up at her, and then closed his eyes and leaned his head hard against her hand as she began to scratch that special place behind his ears. She smiled shyly at the cellist. He blushed and looked away, suppressing a self-conscious grin.

They'd become tentative friends in the last few weeks. Their awkward exchanges included a number of conversations consisting of more than a dozen lines, in which they found they had several things in common. They both liked music, of course, rain, children who leapt fearlessly from swings, and food, especially bacon.

“Okay, listen up!” Temerity called across the space and began to play. The strains of her violin joined into the music of the
conversation, adding a new voice, longing and benevolent and demanding to be heard all at once.
Huge,
thought Ellen with great fondness. Temerity and her life were huge, and she was in it.

Ellen sighed, settling in. She felt at last that she was here—still timidly, she knew, still in the shallows of that vast shared ocean, but definitely wading now, knee-deep, into the warm, scary, lapping waves where everything, even promises, were uncertain and unknown.

And she was all right with that.

This book says something I feel in my heart and have always wanted to express. I'm so grateful to those who gave me the opportunity to put it in print, especially Paul, Nita, and Meaghan. It's been my nature all my life to speak up for others who might not have the strength or the skills to do so. That said, I have to thank a few unique friends who helped me down that road. Larry Clayton, you taught me that spirit and kindness have nothing to do with appearance. You will always be beautiful to me. Desi Geestman, your presence in heaven has had such an effect on my life on this earth, and the courage of your family inspires me daily. David Beard, you helped teach me to see others through different eyes and opened my world. The many children and teens I've worked with for years through the Desi Geestman Foundation, my sense of perspective is magnificently altered because of your remarkable journeys and I am forever changed for the better.

And, of course, to my extraordinary family, especially Joseph, Creason, and Calee, who give me inspiration and support every single day, I thank you. It's not the result but the experience that counts. I'm grateful for every
moment.