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Show Fair Forever 57 think ..." Or was it longer?" He looks toward the shore like he's trying to remember. Today he's wearing a floppy hat and a baggy shirt with long sleeves. He's busy carving. "Is the girl still gone?" he asks. He leans forward on his seat, awaiting my answer. "She is," I confirm, tossing my anchor. . , He slumps his shoulders. , , . "Her name was Amanda," I remind him. V - . . , • . "Amanda," he repeats, nodding toward the lighthouse. "She sure could row." He concentrates on his work. His face is serious, his hands busy. "Whatafe you carving?" I ask. I can't help wondering.. He stops and turns over his carving, examining the back. "I'm not sure yet. The wood will let me know soon enough. The idea will come of a sudden out of nowhere .. sort of like a dream. Sort of like Amanda." I nod in agreement. The morning after she arrived, she stood on my catwalk and sang to the dawn. She glowed. Honest. Sunlight drifted through her like a fountain of glass. It was like the day I turned eight and woke to a morning of ice and light. Rain had fallen in the night and frozen on every branch and blade. All was crystal and magic light and I gazed through my window and couldn 't speak. 'The Fairies came,' Mom said, and I believed. The morning after Amanda came, I believed again. She seemed fragile and clear. I held my breath. I knew that a sigh would break the magic. When I could breathe again, I realized Mom was standing in the doorway. She couldn't breathe either. |