Page 81 of Touch the Sky
The more I listened, the more I started shaking. I got scared they’d feel the floor vibrating from me trembling so hard, but I couldn’t stop.
Even now, I’m having trouble standing up straight as what feels like wave after wave of emotions crash over me.
Guilt. Grief. Anger. Gratitude. More guilt, and then more guilt again.
I’ve spent Shel’s whole life trying to figure out how to explain her dad to her. I’ve spent countless nights staring up at theceiling, my mind racing with the frantic urge to find the right combination of words to make everything better.
It turns out what Shel really needs is someone who can understand—in ways I never will, no matter how hard I try.
She needs someone like Jacinthe.
I’m still standing there reeling when Shel pops out onto the landing with her guitar slung over her back. It’s almost too big for her to wear it that way. She looks like a turtle about to get stuck on its shell. Despite the puffy skin under her eyes and the red rim around her nose, she’s beaming like the sun is shining just for her.
I widen my stance to avoid dropping to my knees as a new emotion joins the deluge: relief.
She’s happy. She’s smiling. Despite everything, she’s smiling, and maybe I’m not the person who knew how to put that smile on her face, but it’s there, and right now, that’s all that matters.
“Mom!” she shouts when she spots me. “You’re here!”
“Hi, baby!” I call, lifting my hand in a wave and doing my best to sound cheerful.
“You’re not supposed to be home yet.” She comes barreling down the staircase, the wood creaking even under her slight weight.
It’s a miracle neither of them heard me when I climbed up there.
“What? You’re not happy to see me?” I ask.
I hold my arms out, and she sprints over to throw herself into a quick hug.
“We don’t have to go to Ali’s yet, right?”
I don’t get a chance to answer before she bulldozes through an information dump, explaining all about the broken guitar string and how Jacinthe is going to help. If I hadn’t overheard their whole conversation, I’d be asking her to slow down so I cancatch more than three words she’s saying, but I just nod and tell her we’ve still got plenty of time.
“Okay, I better run!” she says, zipping past me to hit the path up to the house.
I turn to watch her go. She makes it a few meters before she pauses to holler over her shoulder.
“Jacinthe! Are you coming?”
A voice from up above me answers.
“Bientôt, ma belle! You go ahead!”
I whip around to face the barn, and there she is. Jacinthe stares down at me from the top of the stairs. She’s wearing a waterproof jacket over her usual blue jeans, the zipper hanging open to reveal a knitted, forest green sweater underneath.
“Oh,salut!” she calls out. “I thought I heard her talking to someone.”
More creaking fills the barnyard as she clomps down the stairs. I open my mouth to try to say something, but no sound comes out.
“You’re back early. Easier job than you thought?”
All I can do is nod as she walks up to me. She narrows her eyes.
“Ça va? You look like you skipped your coffee or something.”
I shake my head and stuff my hands in my coat pockets. “Oh. Uh, just a little out of it today. Sorry.”
She shrugs. “Don’t worry about it. You’ve worked like nine days straight.”
