The Peculiar Miracles of Antoinette Martin: A Novel by Stephanie Knipper Page A

as if Rose is her whole world.” He glanced at Lily. “It’s like she’s locked in her body and can’t get out.”
    “And Rose?” Lily knew the statistics. Rose should have died already.
    He tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “It’s bad.”
    Lily’s stomach twisted. She stared at the land rushing by.
    Too soon, they left town and passed Seth’s place. His family owned the twenty acres bordering Eden Farms. A white-plank fence marked the property line.
    Before she could blink, they were at the white sign with black scroll lettering: EDEN FARMS, FLOWERS . The shoulder dipped slightly. Honeysuckle and scrub brush grew along the side of the road, but several feet of land was cleared on either side of the farm entrance.
    Seth turned in, and Lily noticed a locked black iron gate in front of the driveway. “What’s that about?” she asked as Seth pressed a button on the remote clipped to his visor, and the gate swung open.
    “Antoinette wanders off. When she was six, I found her walking down the main road. After that, Rose installed the gate.” Seth punched a button and it closed behind them. The oak and birch trees arching over the drive had budded. Soon they would leaf out, shading the way to the house.
    Lily watched Seth. Small lines creased his forehead. The angles of his face had sharpened over the years. But at that moment, she saw the ten-year-old boy who had saved her from bullies all those years ago at school. Despite the way things ended between them, Seth had always looked out for her. Now it sounded like he was doing the same for Rose.
    “I’m glad you were here for Rose,” she said. “And Antoinette.”
    He bobbed his head once, an almost imperceptible nod.
    The forsythias lining the drive were still in bloom, making Lily feel like Dorothy following the yellow brick road. In minutes, she would see Rose. Every muscle in her body tightened, and she started to shake. What am I getting myself into? Will Rose still be angry? Can we ever be close again?
    Asphalt changed to gravel as the drive split, one half leading to the farmhouse and the other to the drying barn. At the intersection, a profusion of yellow daffodils bloomed. In a week or so, pink tulips would also sway in the wind.
    Seth parked and shut off the engine. “I’m sorry I hurt you,” he said, without looking at her. Then he climbed out of the truck and shut the door before she could respond.
    Lily sat in the truck, hand pressed over her heart as if holding it in. Driving up, she felt the way she did each time she came home. Her body recalled every dip, every bump.
    Seth rapped on the window. “Coming in?” he asked.
    Unable to stall any longer, she stepped out of the cab. Like it or not, she was home.

Chapter Six

    Early morning sunlight fell in pale streaks across the wood floor. Antoinette lay sprawled in the middle of a sunbeam, her arms stretched over her head, her legs bent at the knees. If she were a cat, she’d arch her back, then curl into a ball and let the heat sink through her skin.
    The kitchen smelled like vanilla and cinnamon, which was a Saturday smell. But today was Tuesday, and the kitchen should smell like coffee and toast. Also, Antoinette should be sitting at the table with flash cards spread out in front of her.
    She was homeschooled, but she didn’t study math and English. Each day, Jenna, her therapist, arrived at their house carrying a black bag filled with bits of chocolate, animal crackers, and pretzels.
    Weekdays, Antoinette and Jenna would sit at the table. Jenna would take two laminated flash cards and hold them up. On the cards were words like home and chair and Mommy . Antoinette understood the words when they were spoken, but the letters swam when she looked at the cards.
    “Show me ‘ Mommy ’ !” Jenna would say in her bright voice. Staring at the cards hurt Antoinette’s head, so she never looked at them. Some days when Jenna said, “Show me ‘ Mommy ’ !” Antoinette would point to