An Artificial Night

She brightened. “Aunt Birdie!” Being nineteen and highly aware of her own dignity, she took great care in putting her book down before she hugged me. “You came! Andy’s going to be thrilled.”


“Couldn’t miss the fun,” I said, returning the hug.

Cassandra was the only one of Mitch and Stacy’s kids born before my disappearance. She’s the one who originally decided my name should be “Aunt Birdie,” since she couldn’t pronounce “October.” She’s short, plump, and pretty, and has her mother’s gently pointed ears, tipped with tufts of black fur. She gets her coloring from her dad’s side of the family, though, with Mitch’s blue-gray eyes and unremarkable brown-blond hair.

It’s hard to look at her and not see my own little girl, the one I lost when Simon cast his spell on me. I’ve been working on it. Cassandra deserves better than to be judged by who Gillian might have grown up to be.

Not that Gillian’s been willing to let me see who she actually is. My daughter isn’t dead. She just refuses to let me be a part of her life.

“Well, it’s really good to see you,” said Cassandra as she let me go.

I settled back in my seat. “Good to see you, t—”

My statement was cut short as Andrew slammed into me from the side and flung his arms around my neck. “Auntie Birdie!”

Cassandra laughed. “Aren’t you glad I outgrew that?”

“You have no idea,” I said, and ruffled Andrew’s hair. “How’s our birthday boy?”

“I’m four!” he said, showing me the appropriate number of grimy fingers. Towheaded, freckled, and filthy: all the ingredients needed for “ridiculously cute.” Children shouldn’t be allowed to be that adorable. There ought to be a law. “We’re having a party!”

“I noticed.”

Cassandra groaned, muttering, “People in Oregon noticed.”

“We’re gonna have cake, and ice cream, and presents, and—”

A rising shriek was coming from the direction of the swings. I shifted Andrew to my lap as I looked up. Cassandra rolled her eyes. “Incoming.”

“Aunt Birdeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!” Karen raced toward us. I braced for impact. At eleven, Karen never seemed to be able to make up her mind about whether or not she was too grown-up to tackle me. I got off lucky this time; she skidded to a halt and declared, “You came!”

“I did,” I agreed. “You look like you’ve been wallowing in the mud.”

She looked down at herself. She was coated with filth from the waist down, and muck caked her hair. “Wow. You’re right.”

“So what have you been doing?”

Gleefully, she crowed, “Wallowing in the mud!”

I sighed. “Right.” Andrew was snuggling into my lap, getting dirt all over my jeans. I thought about moving him and decided not to bother. It was his birthday. He could get me dirty if he wanted to. “What’s up?”

“We’re playing pirates,” she said. “I’m the first mate! Jessica gives orders and then I make bad people walk the plank.”

“Good for you. So what’s Andy?”

“He was my parrot, and then he was a shark. Now he’s . . . what are you now, Andy?”

“M’a rowboat,” he said sleepily.

“Do rowboats nap?” I asked.

“I wish,” muttered Cassandra. “They’ve been trying to drive me crazy all night.”

“Really? How are they doing?”

She flipped her ponytail over her shoulder, rolling her eyes. “Amazingly well.”

“I see.” I tickled Andrew until he stopped yawning and started giggling, then set him back on his feet. “Go be a rowboat.” He laughed and ran for the swings, Karen close behind.

“How do they get all that energy?” I asked as I stood.

“They never stop moving.”

Cassandra grinned. “I have no idea. If I knew, I could skip freshman physics.”

“I’m gonna go let your folks know I’m here. You need anything?”

“Can I have a tranquilizer gun?”

“No.”

“Okay. Just tell Mom we need to cut the cake soon, or I may kill them all.”