When I unlock the front door, I find her standing on the other side, wearing a smile like a hastily painted door on a storm-damaged house. The circles beneath her eyes are so dark that her makeup can’t mask them, and the Band-Aid on her left cheek reminds me of the painful burn beneath it. Without a word I pull her to me. She’s stiff at first, but after a few seconds, her muscles give way and she sags against me. She feels so light that I know she must have been skipping meals for days, as she does whenever she’s immersed in a story. When she begins to sob, I pick her up and carry her to the guest room on the ground floor, then lay her on the bed and enfold her in my arms. We hold each other in silence for several minutes, and l lose myself in the smell of her dark hair in my face. After she quiets down, she asks if I’ve had any word of my father. I tell her about Drew and Melba lying for Dad last night, and Caitlin doesn’t seem at all surprised.
