by P. D. Kalnay
Most days after that ended with a swim. I cleaned the pool regularly, remembering the state I’d found it in. Almost the entire basement had become Jack’s playground.
Chapter 4 – Magic’s Sting
There was a door that didn’t open at the end of the hall in Gran’s basement. She’d told me it went to an old root cellar that was partly collapsed and entirely unsafe. After all I’d seen, I wasn’t sure I believed her explanation anymore. Gran wasn’t much for answering questions, but once in a while I’d take another look at the tree-carved into the thick door. That strange carving inspired the final design for Ivy’s necklace. I’d originally planned on roses, but roses are everywhere. I wanted to make something unique. The tree had many-pointed leaves and tiny three-petal flowers among its branches. Larger versions of flower and leaf were carved in a border around the doorframe. It was a suspiciously fancy door. Particularly… for a root cellar. I made those designs the basis for the necklace.
First, I made a full sized sketch to lay the whole thing out, and to determine what parts would be needed. I like round numbers (math class was my second favourite after art) and I wanted to find the right balance for the scale of the necklace. I settled on seven flowers, each with seven leaf links between them. Then I added honeybees on each side of the flowers. For the clasp, I drew a queen bee. Ivy liked bees. Bees and butterflies both, but bees fit the flower theme better. After refining the drawing several times, I was happy with my design. Now, I had to make it. I planned to make the leaves from gold, the flower petals from platinum, and the bees silver. With the addition of the reddish metal they’d end up green, red, and black respectively. I’d inset unaltered gold on the bees afterwards to make them black and gold. The centres of the flowers would be gemstones, and I used seven different kinds. Diamonds, emeralds, rubies, and sapphires were the stones I recognised in the folding case. There were also little black gems, just right for the bees’ eyes, and a few more unknown types to round out the flowers.
I started with the leaves, making patterns for seven slightly different shapes. After a boring day of pounding out enough gold sheets for all of them, I transferred the patterns onto the sheets. Then, I cut out each leaf with a tiny cold chisel, and used a variety of punches to form them into little replicas of the leaves around the door. Each leaf had a stem, veins, and small imperfections that made it look more real. All were unique. I wish I could say that was on purpose, but they looked good. Next, I wound the gold wire around a narrow rod and cut a bunch of round links. These were soldered to the ends of the leaves, and then the sets of seven leaves were soldered together. Leaf-making alone took a few weekends to accomplish.
The petals looked simple by comparison, but ended up taking more than half the project time. I didn’t need as much platinum, but turning it into sheet was more time consuming. As with the leaves, I traced out the outlines for each petal. On a whim, I tried my hand at engraving. A full set of engraving tools was available in the workshop. Aided by the magnifying light, I began carving a pattern into one of the petals. I had no plan, and what resulted was slightly geometric doodling. I placed lines and shapes where they felt right, losing myself in the work. Several hours later… a single petal was finished. It’d take a long time to make flowers that way, but I liked the look of the petal.
Over the next months, I was tempted many times to stop engraving the flowers. Without magnification it was hardly visible anyway, and a similar effect might have been accomplished in seconds with sandpaper. Stubbornness, to finish what I’d started, kept me at it. Once I got going on the engraving, my mind drifted, usually to thoughts of Ivy, and before I knew it, another petal would be done—at the small cost of sore eyes and lost hours.
The bees were more straightforward and a welcome relief from the flowers. I made a wax model first and then a plastic mould from that, which in turn I used to make fourteen more wax hive members. I also made one wax queen. Online shopping provided me with fine sand. I nestled my little wax bees into it, melting them out to create a sand mould, and adding channels for pouring and air flow. In one glorious hour, I melted silver and filled the cavities of my mould. I was almost too afraid to break it apart to see the result. Impatience won out. Soon I had fifteen little silver bees in my hand. They were rough, requiring filing and polishing, but they were solid and complete.
The rest of the process included making settings for the gemstones and soldering everything into a complete unit. By far, the hardest part was not bending or breaking anything. The gold was ridiculously soft. If the magic reddish metal didn’t work, the necklace would be suitable only for display. There was one other thing I was rather proud of. The queen bee clasp had been hollowed out and housed a tiny, paper-thin spring made from the altered gold. Pressing both wings together caused her forelegs to open—releasing a ring at the other end of the chain.
With the clasp added, the necklace was finally complete, mere days before Ivy’s return. Testing had shown that the molten reddish metal would flow across any bare metallic surface, bonding with the underlying metal. If I was wrong about any of it, my hard work might end in disaster. My hands were unusually shaky from nervousness. Three dice sized chunks sat in the bottom of a crucible on the workbench. I clamped the little torch in position and aimed the nozzle into the teacup-sized container. The reddish metal melted from dull solid to quicksilver red instantly. Then, holding my breath, I picked up the necklace by the clasp and dipped the other end into the pool of molten metal. I’d moved extra lights into position, so I could see everything. The strange metal shot up the necklace. It was like seeing a black-and-white filter pulled back to reveal the colour photo underneath. The gold leaves and links changed to deep green-gold, the petals of the flowers turned dark red, and the silver honeybees became jet black. It was working perfectly! When the amazing metal came within an inch of my fingers, I realised I’d forgotten to use plyers to hold the necklace. A split second choice lay before me: drop the necklace into the crucible and risk it all, or hold on and hope the weird metal didn’t flow into skin too. I held on. I felt the metal move under my fingertips. The sensation was like a cross between a mild electric shock and extreme cold. The shock passed right through my body, and I tugged the necklace out of the crucible, dropping it to the workbench. My thumb and forefinger bore impressions of the queen bee latch, painted in metallic red. Then the red sank into my skin and disappeared. Visions of heavy metal poisoning danced in my head.
Those concerns were soon forgotten as I examined the necklace under the magnifying light. It looked amazing. All that remained was to inlay the uncoloured metals. I’ll admit that I felt more than a little proud of what I’d made. It wasn’t until later that I learned even the finest of intentions… can have unexpected and far-reaching consequences.
***
On the night before her return, I realised that I couldn’t give Ivy the necklace. I sat in my room, at the desk I’d made, staring down at it. The chain of flowers, leaves, and bees sat on the desktop, looking ridiculously out of place. It looked like jewellery you’d find in the tomb of an Egyptian pharaoh, or on display behind bulletproof glass at a museum. My necklace wasn’t the sort of thing fifteen year old boys gave to fifteen year old girls. She’ll know, I thought. Fear twisted in my gut. Ivy would know as soon as she saw the necklace. How could she not? I hadn’t truly known myself—until I’d taken a last good look at it, but I felt certain she’d figure it out right away. Ivy was ignorant in some areas, but she understood other things better than I did. The truth was written clear as day in every graceful curve and careful mark. Standing on the roof and shouting out my love would’ve been subtle, compared to the thing lying on the desk. I didn’t know what I would do with it, but I knew I couldn’t give the necklace to Ivy.
Chapter 5 – Old Friends
Ivy and Mr. Ryan returned to Glastonbury Manor a few weeks before school ended. I did one other thing over that winter I haven’t mentioned yet… I grew. When I’d gotten my annual physical from Dr
. Davis, at the end of the summer, he’d measured my height at five feet, nine inches. That’s not bad for a fourteen year old boy, and at least I hadn’t started high school as the new, small kid. Mr. Ryan stood just shy of six feet tall. By the time they got back, I’d added six more inches to my total. Measuring myself against the wall wasn’t super accurate, but I was now six-three. Mr. Ryan would have to look up to me (literally, if not figuratively). In a single winter, I’d gone from tallish fourteen-year-old, to tall fifteen-year-old. My muscles hadn’t kept up with my bones, and I was looking skinnier. My mother, father, and even my grandmother were over six feet tall, so it wasn’t a big surprise for me. Gran offered to call for a taxi, and to take me clothes shopping, when my pant legs and sleeves fell short of ankle and wrist. Shopping for clothing is a horrible experience on its own. Trying clothes on, with Gran waiting outside a changing room… I ordered new clothes online. Most of them fit.
Gran hadn’t bothered to tell me when Ivy would arrive. I checked the Weather Channel’s website to find out when the last frost was expected. I didn’t know why it was the determining factor, but fever clouded memories told me that’s when she and Mr. Ryan would return. Weather people aren’t known for accuracy, so I was surprised to find Ivy standing on the bottom step of the central staircase as I burst into the front hall, after school, one Friday afternoon. I didn’t normally burst into Gran’s house, but I’d seen Mr. Ryan’s truck parked in front of the carriage house. Ivy was wearing a sundress she’d left behind in her closet. She looked slightly older in her face maybe, but she hadn’t grown an inch. She was as tiny and perfect as I remembered. I figured I must have interrupted her on her way down the stairs. Ivy just stared at me as I crossed the hall.
“I spent every day thinking about you, and you’re as beautiful as I remembered,” is what my inside voice said. My outside voice said, “Ivy, you’re back.”
“Jack, you’ve grown!” Ivy said.
She’d have to climb a few more steps to look me in the eye.
“Yeah, people do that sometimes. When did you get here?”
“Early this afternoon. I’ve been waiting for you to get home from school.”
I couldn’t think of a reason why Ivy would hang out in the front hall, waiting for me.
“Why?”
“To thank you for the bow. It’s a wonderful, and a very thoughtful, gift. I’ve already started making a string. I want to try it tomorrow… if you would put the target back outside?”
I hadn’t made a string for the bow or tested it. Having semi-forgotten the bow over the last months, I was half excited by how happy Ivy was with my gift, and half excited to see how well it worked.
“OK, I also shortened twenty of the arrows, so they’re the right length for you now. It’ll be cool to see how well the bow shoots.” I shrugged. “It’s my first try.”
I had a lot of built-up questions for Ivy, but I was too happy seeing her again to ask any. I also reminded myself that one of the few things I did know about her was that she had a boyfriend back home and not to get up any false hopes.
“Did you make it?” Ivy asked.
“Yeah, did you think I bought it?”
Ivy nodded and tears poked out at the corners of her eyes.
“If it doesn’t shoot right, or it breaks, I can buy you a proper one,” I said, in an attempt at stopping the waterworks. “I wanted to try making a bow. If it sucks, you don’t have to keep it.”
“I’ll keep it forever, even if it shoots sideways,” Ivy said. “No one has ever made anything for me before.”
Then she started full-on crying and ran up the stairs; leaving me standing at the bottom, like the confused idiot I was. On the one hand, they weren’t angry tears, and the bow was a clear winner. On the other hand, her strong reaction confirmed that giving her the necklace was a terrible idea.
***
Once I put my backpack up in my room, I was tempted to go searching for Mr. Ryan. His rooms were at the far end of the hall, but I never went there. We’d spent so much time together last summer that I didn’t feel right bothering him outside of our practices sessions. Given the freaky ending to last summer, I also didn’t know how things stood between us, or if he’d be willing to teach me anymore. Or really… much of anything about anything when it came right down to it. Dinner was less than an hour away. I decided to wait.
Gran, Mr. Ryan, and Ivy were at the dinner table before I got there, but no one had touched their food yet. I paused at the dining room’s doorway when I saw Mr. Ryan. He wasn’t any taller, but Mr. Ryan had changed more than me. When I’d first met him almost a year before, Mr. Ryan had been a slightly chubby guy, with a substantial beer belly, and an extra chin. That fat had covered a lot of muscle, and he was more physically able than ninety-nine percent of the population, but you’d never have guessed it, looking at him. He’d burned off most of the extra weight by the end of our summer together. Mr. Ryan had taught me martial arts twice a day. I’d spent my afternoons with Ivy, and during that time he’d done a session of weightlifting. Now, Mr. Ryan looked like the dangerous bad-ass I knew him to be.
Every ounce of extra fat was gone. His face displayed a sharpness that wasn’t there before, and he looked like an anatomical model for displaying the muscles on the human body. Mr. Ryan’s muscles had muscles. All kinds of stuff moved under his blue polo shirt when he reached for a bread roll. I’d kept up my sword practice over the winter. It was clear Mr. Ryan had taken his own training up a few notches. If you’d shown me a photo of this Mr. Ryan with the hard chiselled jaw, and the Mr. Ryan of a year ago, I don’t know if I’d have believed they were the same guy. The finishing touch to Mr. Ryan’s new look was a long, pink scar running down the left side of his face. It started at the top of his forehead, cut an eyebrow in half, missed his eye, and continued down his cheek to the side of his mouth. I was sure the dragon lady hadn’t touched him last summer. That meant Mr. Ryan had done other fighting since I’d seen him last.
I was full of questions, but I wasn’t going to bring them up in front of my grandmother. Answers seemed more likely without her around.
“Hi, Mr. Ryan,” I said, sitting in the last chair at the table.
“Hello, Jack.” Mr. Ryan’s smile was the same, marred only by the way the scar puckered. “You’ve gotten huge.”
“Just taller,” I said. “You’ve gotten huge.”
“I started taking the weightlifting more seriously and began eating better.” Mr. Ryan shrugged.
“I’m thinking about lifting weights too,” I said.
I had thought about it. Last summer, Mr. Ryan said I was too young.
“Well,” Mr. Ryan grinned. “I don’t believe there’s any danger of stunting your growth at this point.”
His smile, and the casual way he spoke, gave me hope that things would be the same between us. The last time I’d heard him speak, Mr. Ryan had sounded very, very angry. Admittedly, he’d been angry at Gran, and I was semi-comatose, but I’d been worrying all winter.
“Jack made me a new bow,” Ivy told him.
“What kind?” he asked me.
“Just a basic laminated wooden longbow,” I said. “It’s nothing amazing.”
“That’s untrue,” Ivy said. “It’s beautiful—perfectly balanced—and exactly the right size for me. I’ll show you tomorrow.”
“You test it?” Mr. Ryan asked.
“No, I didn’t make a string. Hopefully it works OK.”
“It will work perfectly,” Ivy said. “I can tell.”
I kept my face neutral, but I was all smiles on the inside.
“Did you spend the winter making bows?” Mr. Ryan asked.
“No, I only made the one,” I said. “I made furniture too.” I tried to look at my grandmother, out of the corner of my eye, without actually looking at her. “And other odds and ends. I also cleaned the pool and got up it running.”
I was filling my plate with food as I spoke, but I didn’t miss Mr. Ryan’s grimace.
>
“That was incredibly ambitious, even courageous,” he said with a laugh. “That pool was disgusting, and I’ve waded through more than my share of bogs and swamps. I’ll have to take a look after.”
“The pool and the pool room are spotless,” Gran said. “I was surprised by the quality of Jack’s cleaning. Based on the general state of his bedroom, the job he did borders on the miraculous.”
“Hey!” I didn’t say more because I was so surprised to learn she’d checked out my room. That would bear serious consideration.
“Excellent,” Mr. Ryan said. “It’ll be nice to swim this summer.”
“Do you know how to swim?” Gran asked. Her question was directed at Ivy.
“No,” Ivy said. “I never learned how.”
Gran speared a small piece of steak. “Jack will teach you.”
What? I’d had a few years of swimming lessons, and was a decent swimmer, but I wasn’t qualified to be teaching anyone.
“I couldn’t,” Ivy said. Her face went bright red.
“I don’t see why not,” Gran said, apparently oblivious.
“Because…” Ivy set her fork on the table. “Because Jack is… I am… It wouldn’t be proper!” She finished looking down at her food. Her cheek did a twitchy thing.
A weird moment of silence followed before Mr. Ryan spoke.
“I’m sure Jack will be happy to help you order a swimsuit.”
“Swimsuit?” Ivy asked.
“Yes, the clothing you wear—when swimming,” he said.
I’d forgotten how much Ivy didn’t know. I now had several suspicions as to why.
“Clothing?”
“Yes,” Mr. Ryan said. “You didn’t think you’d be swimming naked did you?”
Ivy’s face said that was exactly what she’d thought.
I didn’t know what to think. My face was feeling flushed at the thought of it. Think about something else, think about something else. I took a sip of water and accidentally breathed it in. Coughing and tears followed. Everyone was looking concerned by the time I’d recovered.
