In the spring, Lydia's dad takes her to grandpa's house again. He tells her to pack clothes, which means she's going to be staying for a while, and then sends her upstairs to put her things away while he talks to grandpa. Lydia finishes putting her things away and comes back downstairs. They're arguing again, so she hides in her usual place behind one of the big, stuffed armchair where she always listens to them arguing.
"I can't keep doing this for you."
"I have to leave her somewhere, dad. It's not like you have anything important to do."
Lydia hugs herself tighter and scrunches herself up tighter in her hiding place behind the chair. She's five years old, which means she's had exactly five years of listening to her dad and grandpa arguing with each other. She knows what they're arguing about. It's her, again. It's always her.
"It has nothing to do with me," grandpa says, after a long pause. "I'm happy to have her with me."
"Then why are you complaining?" dad protests.
"Because Lydia's been here six weeks out of the last ten," grandpa says. "And I know you left her with Evie that week in April when she visited."
"Dad—"
"Why did you have a daughter if you never have time to be with her?" grandpa asks.
"I'm not having this argument again—"
"You could at least make an effort to see her once in a while!"
"Every time I come over, you want to criticize my parenting skills—"
"You would have to have some for me to have something to criticize!"
"Well maybe you should have thought about that when you were bringing me up." Their voices are moving back toward the front door, dad's going first and grandpa's following. "You taught me to be an assassin, and that's what I'm trying to do."
"It doesn't have to be your entire life," grandpa says. He sounds really, really annoyed, which is normal. Lydia never hears grandpa sound like he's anything but happy, except for when he's talking to dad. Then he's always annoyed.
"It does today," dad says, and Lydia hears the front door open. "I have to go, dad."
Grandpa sighs, and says—"Well then. Come back safe."
"I will."
"And come back soon."
Dad doesn't answer, but the front door closes and then Lydia hears grandpa go up the stairs, calling her name. She doesn't answer, and then after a little he comes back down and finds her. "There you are," he says, crouching down next to her. "Are you hiding?"
"I wanted to hear how long dad's leaving for this time," Lydia says. "But he didn't say."
Grandpa picks her up with a little grunt. "You're getting heavy," he tells her. "Come on. We'll find something to eat, how does that sound?"
"But grandpa," Lydia protests. "When is dad coming back?"
Grandpa doesn't answer. He brings Lydia to the kitchen and leaves her at the table while he looks for food. "Grandpa," Lydia protests. "Grandpa, when?"
He sighs, and for a minute he leans against the counter, his arms shaking a little, not looking at Lydia at all. When he finally turns around, there's a smile on his face that Lydia knows for sure isn't real. He kneels in front of her where she sits on her chair, and holds her hands gently. "I don't know," he tells her. "But I know that he loves you very much, and he's going to come home to you as soon as he can. Okay? You just have to wait a little bit."
"Okay," Lydia says.
"Can you be patient?"
Lydia nods. "Just a little bit longer," she says.
-/-
Summer is nice with grandpa. He has lots of friends all over the city, friends he calls his Rooks (like the bird, even though they're people) and when they come to visit him they bring their kids and grandkids. Lydia has lots and lots of people to play with the whole summer long. They climb trees, and then grandpa teaches them to climb buildings, and then the whole summer is one long competition to see who can climb the highest.
Lydia is really good at that part, and grandpa is very proud of her when she comes home with scraped up knees and hands, and tells him she's faster than all her friends.
"Will you tell dad?" she asks, on the day she finally makes it all the way to the roof. "When he comes home, will you tell him how good I'm getting at climbing?"
"You can tell him yourself," grandpa says.
"I will," Lydia says. "But you have to tell him too! Because if we both tell him, maybe he'll believe it, and he won't want to leave again."
"He doesn't leave because of you," grandpa tries to explain. "He just… he has work."
"I know!" Lydia says proudly. Because she's thought a lot about this plan, it's the whole reason she worked so hard on her climbing all summer. "But I can help him now, grandpa! He doesn't have to leave me behind anymore!"
He makes that disappointed face he always makes when anyone brings up her dad, and shakes his head. "I think you might still be a little too young, Lids."
"No, really!" she protests. "I climbed up to the top!"
"Lydia—"
"I can do it again, I can show you how good I climbed!"
"I'm sure you're very good," grandpa says. "And I would love to see you climb sometime. But I promise, your dad's not leaving you because you're not good enough, okay? It's not your fault at all."
Lydia makes a frustrated noise and runs away from him, into the house and up the stairs and into her room. Lydia throws herself on the bed and grabs the pillow, hugging it tight.
Grandpa waits until she stops crying before he comes in. Lydia is sitting up by now, picking moodily at the stitching on her pillow. He moves her clothes off the desk chair, dumping them on the desk itself instead. Then he moves the chair next to her bed and sits in it, looking at her. "You know," he says. "We should look for some boxes and stuff to put your things in as long as you're staying here." Lydia doesn't look up at him. "I just mean, this isn't much of a guest room anymore. You've been here three months, and I'm sure you're tired of living out of boxes."
Lydia shrugs.
"Come on, Lids," grandpa says. "You have to work with me a little here."
She still doesn't look up. "Will you…" her voice sounds all watery and sad. "Will you at least telldad how good I can climb when he comes home?" she asks. "Will you just tell him in case maybe he lets me come with next time?"
Grandpa sighs and pats her on the knee. "I'll tell him," he says.
"Promise?"
"Promise."
Lydia smiles a little bit. Just a little. "Do you know when he's coming home yet?" she asks.
"I'm still waiting to hear from him," Jacob says. "But I promise I'll tell you as soon as I do. I'm sure it'll just be a little bit longer."
-/-
In the fall, Aunt Evie and Uncle Henry come to stay. Lydia is very excited, especially when Aunt Evie tells her they're going to stay in London for good. Lydia knows they're not actually her aunt and uncle, because Aunt Evie is grandpa's sister and not dad's. But they're still family, and Lydia likes having extra family.
"Why are you staying?" she asks, following Aunt Evie around the house and watching her unpack. "I thought you and Uncle Henry lived in India."
"Well, England needs us more now," Aunt Evie says. "So we came back."
"Grandpa needs you too," Lydia says. "He's very happy you came home. He cleaned for you. Grandpa never cleans."
"I know," Aunt Evie says. She sighs, and smiles fondly at Lydia.
Later, when Lydia comes to say goodnight to grandpa on her way to bed, she finds him in the kitchen talking to Aunt Evie in very quiet voices that Lydia really has to try hard to overhear.
"Are you staying?" grandpa asks.
"In the house, or in London?"
Grandpa laughs. "Either," he says. "Both."
"We'd like to stay in the house a few months," Aunt Evie says. "We'll find somewhere in the city then, somewhere nearby."
"I'm happy to have you here as long as you want to stay," grandpa says, and Lydia catches herself hoping she'll say yes.
"No," Aunt Evie says. "I grew up with you, Jacob. That's quite enough, thank you. But we'll definitely stay nearby."
"Good," grandpa says.
"I have missed you," Aunt Evie says. "And I've been looking forward to spending some time with you. And with Lydia."
"She's a good kid, isn't she?" grandpa asks. It makes Lydia smile to hear.
"If she is, it's no thanks to you," Aunt Evie teases. Lydia knows she's teasing because it makes her and grandpa both laugh. "Is she reading yet? How have her lessons been going? Have you taught her anything about the brotherhood, or—"
"Well, she's climbing really well," grandpa says uncertainly.
"Never mind," Aunt Evie says. "I know you've never liked lessons and books. I can help you with that."
"Thanks," grandpa says. They sit in friendly silence for a while, and Lydia is just thinking about going in when they start talking again.
"How long has she been here?" Aunt Evie asks.
Grandpa sighs, and Lydia can tell from how muffled his voice sounds that he's rubbing at his face with his hands. "Six months?" he says. "Six months on Saturday. And not a word from her father in all that time."
"You haven't heard from him?" Aunt Evie asks. "He told me he's been writing."
"You've seen him?" grandpa asks.
"He was in India for a while," Aunt Evie says. "Assisting the brotherhood there. He left in July, said he was going to… Italy, I think."
"Well, I know he's alive now," grandpa grumbles. "That's more than I knew yesterday."
"Does he do this often?" Aunt Evie asks.
"All the time," grandpa says. "But never for this long. A week, maybe two… and then this. I don't even know if he's coming back this time."
Lydia creeps through the door and over to grandpa. "You said just a little while," she reminds him, hugging his legs. "You said we just have to be patient and dad will come home, remember?"
"Right," grandpa says.
"Just wait a little bit longer," Lydia tells him.
-/-
In the winter, Lydia turns six. Grandpa (tries to) make all her favorite foods, and Aunt Evie brings her a journal to practice her writing in, and Uncle Henry brings her flowers and tells her they mean I love you. It's a very nice birthday, and at bedtime grandpa comes upstairs to help her braid her hair.
"Is it going to look like Aunt Evie's?" Lydia asks, trying to twist around to look at grandpa. He puts one hand on her shoulder to keep her still, holding the long tail of her hair in the other hand.
"It should," he says. "I used to braid her hair for her all the time when we were little."
"Good," Lydia says. "Aunt Evie is pretty." Grandpa had cut her hair in the summer when she started climbing things, because it kept getting in the way. But Lydia really likes Aunt Evie's hair, she wants to look just like her. She's been growing it out ever since Aunt Evie and Uncle Henry came to stay, and grandpa says it's finally long enough to braid. "Why did you braid her hair? Girls braid hair, not boys."
"Well, we had a deal," grandpa says. "She didn't tell our dad that I had a pet rabbit hidden in my room, and I helped her do her hair when she was too little to reach." He keeps talking as his hands move deftly through her hair. "And then I started to like it. We always argued when we were growing up, but for some reason we didn't when I worked on her hair. It was just easier to get along. Maybe because we couldn't look at each other, or because we couldn't run away from each other."
"Do you want to run away from me?" Lydia asks.
"No." Grandpa ties off the bottom of her hair and kisses the top of her head. Lydia shakes her head to feel the way the long braid thuds against her back, a satisfying new weight. It's not elaborate and pinned up like Aunt Evie's are, but grandpa says this is better for sleeping in. He says they can make it fancy tomorrow.
"Dad ran away, though," Lydia says. She curls up against grandpa and looks out the window. Even through the glass, she can feel the cold leaking in. "He's… he's not coming back, is he?"
Grandpa sighs and wraps his arms around her. "It's… possible," he admits. "Your dad's always been the kind of man that will run after any righteous cause he sees. He's not big on responsibility. I think he might have learned that from me."
"No grandpa," Lydia says. "You're always here."
Grandpa laughs. "I am so lucky you never knew me when I was younger," he says. "Maybe you wouldn't like me as much then."
"I love you, grandpa," Lydia says. "I love you no matter what."
"I love you too, Lids," grandpa says.
"Can you stay with me tonight?" Lydia asks.
"As long as you want me to," grandpa says. "Go ahead and get into bed, and I'll join you in a few minutes."
But he's slow, so Lydia is almost asleep when he gets in bed. Almost but not quite, and she feels so much better because she knows—knows—grandpa won't leave.
"I don't want to give up on your dad," grandpa says after a couple minutes, when Lydia is almost asleep.
"Why?" Lydia mumbles.
"Because he's my son," grandpa says, rubbing her back. "And your dad. And I don't want to believe that he would just walk away from the people that care about him and never look back."
"Okay," Lydia says. "Okay, grandpa. We can wait a little bit longer."
-/-
It's spring again when grandpa calls Lydia down early from her lessons with Aunt Evie. But they're looking at maps of the city, and Aunt Evie is teaching her how to read them and why they're important for planning, and it's really, really interesting. Grandpa has to call her three or four times before Aunt Evie tells her she'd better go see what he wants.
"You interrupted," Lydia complains on her way downstairs. "Aunt Evie was teaching me maps, and she showed me the bank and said you broke England's money once and she had to fix it, why did you do that… grandpa?" She stops almost at the bottom of the stairs. Grandpa is standing by the door wearing his serious face, and there's a man with really long hair next to him. "Grandpa?" Lydia asks again.
"Your dad's here."
"Dad?" she looks at the other man. Is he her dad? His hair is all different and she doesn't remember his face anymore. But he nods, and Lydia says, "Oh." Aunt Evie comes down the stairs behind her, and nudges her in that way she uses to remind Lydia to be polite. "It's good to see you again," Lydia says.
"Pack up your things," dad says, smiling. "We're going home, sweetie, isn't that nice?"
"I am home," Lydia says.
"No," dad says. "I mean home with me."
"Oh." Lydia stands there, confused. Then she turns around and goes back upstairs to get her things. On the way out she hugs Aunt Evie, then Uncle Henry, then grandpa for the longest.
"I'm going to miss you, Lids," grandpa says.
"I'll miss you too," Lydia says. "But it's okay, you know dad. I'll be back as soon as he wants to go away again." She tries to smile. "Just wait a little bit longer, okay?"