Page 9 of A Sanctuary from Shadow
A whimsical ringtone interrupted Olivia’s answer. I turned toward my dressing room, where my MulBerry’s screen radiated in my canvas purse.
“Go answer it.” She waved me on. “I’ll try on the other three pairs, then you can help me decide.”
So, I scurried into my dressing room, grabbing my phone and accepting the call.
“Hey,” I greeted my sister. “What’s up, Vi?”
“Nothing, really,” her bright voice answered, the faint thrum of pop music in the background. “What are you doing today?”
I smirked at myself in my changing room mirror, enjoying the way the linen shirt fluttered about my hips. “I’m studying—like I told Uncle Neel.”
“Yeah? What’s the subject? Dresses? Shoes, maybe?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You know, Uncle Neel checks your bank statement to see what you spend your money on. And when.”
“Then it’s a good thing there’s an ATM in the student union, isn’t it?”
“Sneaky, Amy.”
“This ain’t my first rodeo.”
“When are you coming home again, though?”
“After finals.”
Viola was probably sick of being the only niece around for Aunt Aylie to harangue about—everything. Or everything she deemed unladylike behavior.
I took a seat beside my purse on the dressing room bench. “How’s Dad doing?” I asked, my throat tightening.
“Not great. He’s been almost too tired to get out of bed this week.”
So, Daddy had lied when I’d called home the night before. He’d said he was doing great, that I needn’t worry about him.
“He’s still acting like he’s feeling fine, but he barely ate last night, and he keeps losing his breath when he walks.”
“Maybe I’ll come home next weekend,” I thought aloud, though that was the true time for hardcore studying. Finals were just around the bend, regardless of this weekend’s slacking.
“Coming home early won’t improve his condition, Amy. You might as well stay there until after finals like you planned. By then Aunt Aylie and Uncle Neel will be too busy prepping for Beltane to chew you out for being gone so long, anyway.”
“Hopefully. You know how good Aunt Aylie is at multitasking.”
Vi giggled. “Hey, do you want to talk to Dad? He’s just watching the news.”
“Sure, put him on.”
It took Vi a minute to bound down our creaky staircase and reach the family room, where my father always lounged in his Lazy Boy, sipping coffee despite his doctor’s orders that he drink water.
“Hi there, Amy,” Daddy’s friendly tenor greeted me after Vi gave him her phone. His voice was always higher pitched than one would assume by looking at him. Today, his consonants lolled. “How goes the studying?”
I grimaced, guilt gnawing at me. “It’s going. How’s the news?”
“Dismal as always.” Daddy laughed like a chugging car. “The presidential race is heating up. Any thoughts on what you’d like to happen?”
Daddy often talked politics with me. We leaned the same way on many issues—generally opposing Uncle Neel.
Growing up, Daddy had played a game with me, charging me with solving real world political problems. At first, I’d think up the most ridiculous answer possible, just for fun. As I aged, though, I got so good at posing legitimate arguments that I almost joined the debate team in junior year. Aunt Aylie had put the kibosh on that, saying women in politics were no better than meddlesome bitches. Regardless, if I hadn’t loved books so much, I might’ve majored in political science.
