Chapter 5A
s the driver pulls out of Port Authority Connie watches the landscape telescope from stone monoliths to eight lanes of highway. The morning’s a chiaroscuro of slate-colored clouds interrupted by blinding sunlight. In an hour they’ve shed suburbia and are tumbling in and out of the gently rising hills of northern New Jersey. Ice glazes the hillsides covered with bare trees which shine brilliantly in the morning sun.
“Where are we, Mama?” asks Anna.
“Fairyland,” whispers Ceci, her forehead pressed against the window. “We’re in fairyland.”
The word conjures up bedtime stories, the scent of clean pajamas, the gritty sweetness of homemade cookies. Her arms ache from holding the girls close. The press of their small bodies keeps her blood pumping in steady pulses to her heart, spu
