Page 46 of Jane Deyre

I quickly fill in my self-portrait with a few more strokes of the black pencil.

“Done!” I parrot, awed by what I see. This isnotthe plain Jane I know so well.

Adele sits up and faces me, mimicking my cross-legged posture. She’s holding her sketchpad between her tiny hands.

“Let me see how it turned out,” I say excitedly.

Wearing a proud, ear-to-ear grin, she flips the drawing around and shows it to me.

My mouth drops open. “Wow! That’ssogood!”

It truly is. In a child-like fashion, she’s totally captured herself with her blue denim overalls, long golden braids, and red sneakers. A wide smile like the one she’s wearing is scrawled across her face. On either side of her on some grass (a series of green vertical lines) are the snails. I can even tell which is which by Stripe’s pronounced striped shell.

She looks up at me with her big brown puppy eyes. They melt me. “Do youreallylike it?”

“No.”

Her smile falls off her face like a scab.

“I LOVE it! And your daddy’s going to love it too.”

The smile returns to her face, wider than before. “Jane, show me your drawing.”

My heart stutters. I’m not sure if I want to share it with her. Or anybody. It’s way too personal. Intimate. A fantasy that shot from my soul to a piece of paper. I hem and haw.

“I—I don’t know. I don’t think it’s very good.”

She pouts. “I don’t believe you. And no fair. I showed you my drawing, so you have to show me yours.”

I digest her words. She makes a valid point. While life hasn’t been fair to me, I’ve always believed in fairness. Slowly, hesitantly, I turn my drawing around. Adele studies it.

“Jane, it’s you!”

I glance over the sketchpad. I’mnotsure it’s me. It’s more a figment of my imagination. A projection.

I have transformed myself into Audrey Hepburn. The drawing looks just like the iconic photo on my vision board—black dress, pearls, gloves, and even the tiara—except it’s my face, not hers.

Adele’s gaze stays on it. “It’s so good! You’re the best artist ever! I want to draw like you!”

Two flames burn brightly in my heart. Pride and love for this child.

I humbly thank her and then check my watch. It’s almost three o’clock.

“Let’s go downstairs and get a snack.”

After a healthy snack—a bag of granola and raisins—Adele has a new idea.

“Let’s play hide-and-seek!”

“I’m not sure.” The house is ginormous. There are a gazillion places she could hide. And what if she hid someplace dangerous where I couldn’t find her and something terrible happened? I have to remember she’s the little girl who jumped out of a tree and scared the living daylights out of me and Grace. She could have broken her neck. Killed herself.

“Please!” she begs.

“Okay... only if we stay downstairs. No hiding upstairs or outside.” Edwina told me there’s also a basement, but I don’t mention that to Adele. “And you have to promise to tell me if I’m hot or cold.”

Adele cocks her head. “What do you mean?”

“You know... if I’m getting close to finding you, you shout ‘hot.’ ‘Cold’ if I’m not.” I look her straight in the eye. “Promise to follow the rules?”