Shelly had seen this girl before. She waved and laughed from across the tall meadow as an early morning fog broke, but she couldn’t make out her face. It was the same every morning. This girl always dressed like Shelly, as though she spied on her in the waking hours. Today was a white spaghetti-strap top with light cyan shorts. Her dark hair combed straight, hanging just beyond her shoulders. She looked to be the same age, too. It was like peering into some kind of magical mirror and whenever Shelly ran to her, she disappeared with a playful laugh.

It had become a game of theirs, a daily ritual. There wasn’t much more to do on her uncle’s farm unless she wanted to muck stalls or milk cows. Shelly was a city girl; she had no interest in rural activities. She missed home. She missed her mom. It was proving to be a difficult adjustment, living out here with people she barely knew. Her mom and her uncle had rarely spoken. Now she had to learn to live with him and his wife and six kids, all of them boys.

She woke earlier and earlier each morning, teeming with inspiration and hope. Hope that today was going to be the day the girl in the meadow finally spoke.

She held back and watched the girl twirl among the grasses that hugged her waist. She was laughing and breathing in deep, rich air, rich with life. Not city air. Shelly wondered if the girl even realized she was here.

“Hello,” Shelly called out as she had done a dozen times before. The girl acted as though she didn’t hear her. Shelly took ginger steps closer. The fog continued to life and the girl faded. “Please, don’t …” Shelly’s smile slipped. Each day it became easier to lose hope, and her smile; this was about the only time it appeared anymore.

Her head dropped and when she looked up again, the blue sky pierced the remaining clouds in staggered rays; the girl was gone. No matter how early she woke, Shelly realized she was never going to meet her.

Back at the house, William, Ted, and Michael, the youngest boys, all of three, six, and seven, were racing around, crashing into walls and the dining room table. Soon it would be the china cabinet. Aunt May was yelling at them from the kitchen with little effect. Shelly was careful to avoid them. If they noticed her, there would be no quarter. They’d chase and tease her and pull on her hair until lunch. Aunt May wouldn’t mind; they wouldn’t be destroying her house.

Shelly managed to sneak into her room and closed the door behind her. She leaned back against it and tears pushed through the fortress she tried to build. She sank to the floor and drew her knees to her chest and wept. She felt so alone and so afraid.

“Mom,” she whispered through her tears, “why?”

It was a question she had asked so many times in the past month and like the girl in the meadow, she never got an answer. She knew she never would.

She lost track of time sitting on the floor crying. It could have been an hour. It could have been five minutes. When a gentle knock pulled her back from the darkness of her knees, she jumped.

“Y-yes?” she said, scooting away from the door and struggling to get up. The doorknob turned slowly and Shelly rubbed her eyes as quickly as possible. She swallowed hard, thinking, for some morbid reason, that the boys found her.

Aunt May poked her head in and looked at her with a gentle smile. Shelly had yet to figure her out. She was nothing like her mother, always yelling at her boys about chores or running in the house or homework or not eating their vegetables or something. She almost always seemed to wear a scowl and Shelly didn’t know if she ever saw her smile before. This wasn’t the smile of her mother, for certain, but it was something.

“Ah, you are in here,” Aunt May said as she opened the door and stepped inside. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

Shelly shuffled to the edge of her bed. “I’m fine.” She tried to smile but it scurried under her bed. She looked down for it to avoid Aunt May’s approach.

“Were you crying?” Aunt May stopped, reached out her hand and placed it gently beneath Shelly’s chin.

She lifted her head up and with reluctance looked into her eyes. She felt them coming. In waves they were coming once more. She swallowed, bit her lower lip, and looked around the room, but they were already there. She broke down and cried harder than she had since the morning the live-in nurse met her in the hallway to tell her it was over, that she was an orphan. There was no denial this time. No hiding from the truth. She knew it. Everywhere she looked was another reminder.

Aunt May drew Shelly into her embrace. “Dear, dear,” she said as she stroked her back. “Let it out, Shell, let it all out.”

Shelly pushed back enough to look at her. Through choking sobs she said, “Wh-what d-did you s-say?”

“I said it’s alright. It’s good to let it out.”

“N-no, y-you called me Shell.”

“Oh, I guess I did. Is that wrong?” Aunt May held Shelly’s shoulders and knelt down before her.

Shelly fought to gain control of her breath and in time she managed to get back some. “N-no. It’s … it’s what my mom called me.”

“Oh, I didn’t know. I won’t do it again. I am so sorry.” Shelly thought for a moment that Aunt May’s face was going to disappear into darkness.

“No, it’s alright,” Shelly said, not wanting the connection to break. She needed it. She knew it. “It was nice.”

Aunt May took Shelly’s face into her hands and, ever so gently, rubbed the streaking tears from it. “I know this has all been so hard for you. I can’t even imagine what you went through. Such a brave young girl.”

“Why did she have to go?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps God wanted her home. Maybe it was fate. I really don’t know, Shell. I wish I could tell you something that would help.”

“I just want to go home,” Shelly said and immediately regretted it. She didn’t want to hurt Aunt May’s feelings, but this wasn’t home, no matter how well disguised. Home was where her mother was and she knew that wasn’t an option.

“I know, I know.” Aunt May gazed into her eyes and Shelly saw something in there that she didn’t expect. It was a light, a special kind of light. The kind of light only girls have. The kind of light her mother had.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that,” Shelly said, dropping her head.

“I know.” Aunt May got to her feet. “Would you like to go for a ride?”

Shelly looked up at her. “Where?”

“To town. We’ll do some shopping.”

“Really?” Shelly liked shopping. She and her mother used to go all the time, that was, before the doctors, before the bad things. They never bought anything. They just liked to look.

“Yeah. I don’t have a girl. Thought it might be fun.”

Shelly followed Aunt May out of her room. She paused in the doorway and gave it one more look. It felt different. She didn’t know why. Suddenly it didn’t feel so alone.

*****

Shelly woke up one morning about a week later and headed out for the meadow in the same white spaghetti-strap tank and cyan shorts. She looked for the girl in the low clouds and couldn’t find her. It didn’t matter.

She brushed her hand across the top of the grass. A smile creased her face. She looked around at the fields and to the sky. She laughed. There was nobody around but she wasn’t alone. She twirled among the grass and breathed in deep the fresh, fragrant air.

She couldn’t help but laugh.