“How long ago?”
“Seventy-three years and four months.” She clutches the door knob as she stares beyond me. “She fell from a ladder, striking her head on the stove. To lose her after we’d survived so much together made me wish I’d died too.” Rosemarie looks directly into my face. “But you’re bringing her back.”
Her words squirm like crawlies in my gut. I want to argue that I’ll only restore Milly’s memories, not bring back the dead. Or does memdenity come with more than knowledge? Soul? It doesn’t seem possible, but centuries ago no one believed immortality was possible either.
Rosemarie invites me into a spacious room with bone-white walls, two dressers side by side, plush brown chairs, a wardrobe closet, and retro-century cooking utensils fixed on the walls. Another wall has a gold-framed painting of a bride and a groom on a gilded platform beneath a shining white cross. The man is Arthur, looking exactly as he did today, and the woman, full-figured with olive skin and almond-shaped black eyes, must be Milly.
“Milly’s wedding was beauteous.” Rosemarie sighs as she gestures to the portrait. “Arthur made her so happy—he’s a wonderful man, and you will find it easy to love him. I know he’s thrilled you have joined our Family.”
I’m less than thrilled. But how will I feel about this after the memdenity? Having layers of new memories—moments of joy, sadness, loss, and love—will change how I view myself and everyone around me.
Does that mean I’ll love Arthur as a wife? When he stared at me, it was as if he was seeing through coverings and memories to the curvy body of the woman he loved.
My husband. The marriage contract will legally bind me to Arthur. My Instructors didn’t explain what the contract included, but I’m not that innocent. I’ve taken my cycle pills since age twelve and, like all girls, when I reach age sixteen, I’ll have the sterilization procedure. By then I’ll have all three memdenity insertions and share nights with Arthur. I can’t imagine it—and don’t want to.
To shift my thoughts, I point to a jewelry box on a dresser. “Was this Milly’s?”
“It’s yours,” she says with that questioning lift of her dark brow, as if she’s surprised I’m asking permission.
I lift the curved lid to find pools of silver and gold necklaces, a ring with a stone so red I wonder if it’s a ruby, and glittery bracelets with dangling charms. There’s a tiny sand-shell too, which makes me think of the sea—and of Petal. I’d give anything to be with her now, playing in the Lavender Pool and cradling her sweet body to my heart.
“Take whatever you want.” Rosemarie’s voice jerks me away from my cave and back to this bedroom. “The ruby ring will be too big, but you can wear a bracelet or necklace.”
I shake my head. “They belong to Milly.”
“But you’re Milly.” She smiles, then walks back to the door. “I can’t wait for you to see how I’ve fancied our room.”
“I’m coming,” I say with a resigned shrug.
When I shut the jewelry box, my red scarf catches on an edge of the lid. As I untangle it, the jewelry box tips over and starts to fall. I grab quickly to right the box, but a gold necklace slips out from underneath the box and lands on the floor.
I pick up the necklace, admiring the four-point golden star dangling from a chain of fine gold. At the center, grooves spread out to repeat the four-star pattern, reminding me of the lines inside a shell. A shell star, I think as I slip it into my tunic pocket, then hurry to catch up with Rosemarie.
The top floor has low peaked ceilings, narrow halls, and so many windows, as if night is watching our every move. Rosmarie leads me past a combined kitchen-dining area and doors that she explains lead to closets, a pantry, and privacy rooms. Moving on, she opens a door and announces, “This is our room.”
It’s decorated in greens, yellows, and browns, with spacious windows, as if an outside garden has been invited inside. There’s a desk, dressers, a tall mirror, and two comfortable-looking beds with bright pillows and handcrafted quilts.
Rosemarie gestures to the quilt on the bed she’s prepared for me. “This is the first quilt Milly and I crafted together. We stayed up long nights cutting pieces. She stitched them so perfectly that Arthur thought we’d used a machine. He can be so serious, sometimes, and easy to tease,” she adds with a chuckle.
“Lorelei would love to see this.” I run my finger over the quilt’s precise stitches. “She is more skilled at sewing than I’ll ever be.”
“You’ll be surprised how well you can sew.” Rosemarie tilts her head at me. “Who’s Lorelei?”
“My born-mate. Only her name isn’t Lorelei anymore. She’s Flavia now.”
“Oh, the Ying Family’s youth. We considered her too.” Rosemarie touches her chin thoughtfully. “But Ryan—Leader Cross—wanted you.”
“He did?” I can’t imagine anyone wanting me over Lorelei (impossible to think of her as Flavia). Lorelei even resembles Milly—if you add ten years and shorter hair. Of course, Lorelei had already been Chosen.
There’s a tap on the door, and Rosemarie jumps up to answer with a big grin on her face. “He’s here to see you,” she says.
“Who?”
“Jarod.” Her grin widens at the stocky guy with short black hair and wide lips against olive skin.
“Jarod and you have something in common,” Rosemarie tells me with a pleased tone. “I thought you’d like to meet a Cross relative who understands what you’re going through.”
“That would be me,” Jarod says, winking. “It’s been fifty years since I came here as a youth.”
“You were a youth?” I ask in surprise.
“You didn’t think you were the only Cross newbie? My youth name was Adam.”
He pulls up a chair and launches into his story of Instructors, pranks on his born-mates, and being so nervous at his Celebraze that he nearly wet his pants.
I lean forward on the edge of the quilt so I don’t miss a word. Unlike me, Jarod was joyous to be Chosen by the Cross Family, although he admits to sadness at leaving his best mates and Instructors. But he sees them at Sunday Fair when Families gather for communal bartering. I’m loving his story until he mentions memdenity.
“Weren’t you afraid?” I grip my hands together.
“Who wouldn’t be? Only it didn’t hurt, and afterward I knew more than I ever imagined. When I finished all three mems, I remembered life before ShareHaven, when I lived with family in Florida. I was in my senior year of college when the mind-plague hit. So many were lost—including my parents. I came to this island to escape sad memories and help find a cure as a lab assistant working for the scientists. We were close to a cure—until the Attack. Afterward I helped construct the Fence to keep out desperate people, beasts, and Nocturnes. When we settled into Families, I had no relations of my own, so I joined the Cross Family.”
“You can do that?” I ask.
“I did.” He grins mischievously. “Take a few hundred years and lots of things can happen. I could tell you some stories ….”
Rosemarie, who sits in a nearby chair, clears her throat. “Jarod, keep to the topic,” she says with reproach.
“Fine, fine.” He winks at me. “So I’m a totally well-adjusted former youth, and you will be too. If you get bored, join a sports team or hobby club. In my free hours, I kick smack-ball. Two of my born-mates play too. And there are some sweet girls I see at every Sunday Fair. Never a dull day in forever-land.”
I laugh, and something inside me lightens. He’s doing a job he enjoys and kept youth friendships—confirming that not all memories fade.
When he leaves, I wrap my arms around Rosemarie. “Thank you so much for inviting him.”
“I want you to be happy here.”
“I am,” I say, and for the first time I mean it.
Rosemarie has given me so much, yet there’s nothing I can give to her—except the sister she misses. So I ask her to tell me about Milly.
I curl up on the quilt with a pillow and listen as she tells
me sweet, funny, and sad stories of Milly. They were born in the retro-century and lived in a grand city by the Pacific Ocean called San Francisco. Her words paint images of cars, computers, school, and a magical way of communication called the Internet.
There was a brother too: Gregory.
“After he died from the mind-plague, our parents came to this island.” A shadow crosses her face. “Things were wondrous for a while until the Attack, when my parents were killed. I was already planning my wedding to Jed, and Milly fell in love with Arthur. But you’ll know this soon—I don’t want to bore you.”
“It’s not boring. Milly is more real when you talk about her.”
“I was closer to her than anyone—including Jed.”
At the mention of her husband’s name, I ask something I’ve been wondering. “Where is your husband? I’ve met your three sons, but not him. Won’t he mind my sharing your room?”
“No.” Her lips press tight. “He died.”
I don’t know what to say so I just nod.
She gazes at a framed retro-photo on a dresser of a smiling black-haired man with heavy brows and crooked teeth. “I thought we’d be together forever.”
I wonder which of The Three Dangers ended their “forever.” Wanting to comfort her but not knowing the right words, I repeat a phrase the Instructors say: “Accidents are tragic.”
“It wasn’t an accident,” she says bluntly.
I blink at her, confused. “But then how … how did he die?”
Her lips press tighter. “My husband was murdered.”
ELEVEN
I’ve been warned about accidental deaths for as long as I can remember but aside from The Attack I’ve never heard of an intentional death.
Murder.
How could that happen in ShareHaven? Violence is forbidden. Even a small offense like hitting is cause for Uniforms to step in with severe punishments. Clark was only age ten when he smacked Homer in the head with a stick. Homer wasn’t hurt, but within an hour, the Uniforms arrived. They locked Clark away for a week.
Clark never lost his temper again.
Poor Rosemarie. She’s suffered a terriful loss, yet she smiles as if she’s eternally happy. I study her in a new way, creating a memory of my own.
Rosemarie offers me a nightshirt that is comfortably baggy, made of silky fabric. I crawl into my bed, which is made of softer cushions than I’m used to, but my mind won’t relax. I glance over at Rosemarie as she reaches out to turn back her blankets. Only instead of climbing into bed, she kneels on the floor, and presses her palms together, her head bowed.
What’s she doing? I wonder, breathing evenly so she won’t know I’m awake. I can’t see her face, but I understand some of her words.
“… am grateful … second chance to … right with Milly and forgive ….” Her voice falls to silence as she makes a gesture over her heart and climbs into bed. Something about her manner seems so private that I’m ashamed to eavesdrop.
When I close my eyes this time, I fall asleep almost before my head hits the soft downy pillow, and I dream ….
I’m at the sea, wading in the surf and flinging a stick in the waves. Petal clings on my shoulder. She tickles my neck, and when the stick doesn’t return after I throw it, she dives into the foaming waves. She’s so very tiny, smaller than the stick she’s seeking, but she’s done this many times before, so I don’t worry.
The clouds darken, waves toss angrily, and Petal doesn’t come up for air. She can swim like a fish, but she still needs air to breathe. I call her name over and over, running into the waves. The sea has become a wild monster, immense and black-hearted.
A glassy shape rises from the waves like a life-size monster. I try to run, but a tube-like arm snakes out, winding around my wrist. I can’t breathe, sinking beneath the water, drowning. I’m going to break a rule—dying by one of the Three Dangers.
But the glassy shape peers at me with blue eyes, and the tube-arm becomes a human hand. When he lifts his other hand, he’s holding tiny Petal out to me. She tinkles her bell laugh, then scurries up my arm.
“You came back,” I say.
“To see you.” Nate’s smile goes straight to my heart. Stubble bristles around his jaw, and his cheeks are hollowed as if he doesn’t eat enough. Yet he’s all muscle too, and I can feel his strength through his gentle hand.
His shape shifts. Tubes sharpen into fins, scales cover his skin, and the smile glints with pointy-knife teeth. A human vampfish. I smell blood. The cut on my arm has burst open, bleeding swirls in seawater. And the creature that once was human aims fish fangs at me ….
I jerk up in bed. A dream … that’s all. Yet I’m startled by the quietness of the room. My first night away from the noisy whispers of my born-mates. I look over to the outline of Rosemarie underneath blankets. She snores softly, so deep in sleep not even my bad dreams wake her.
Dawn light creeps through the window, and I long to sneak out to my cave. Will Petal look for me today? She’ll wait and wait, but I’ll never come. Nate will comfort her, and she’ll forget me. But no matter how many memories are crammed into my head, I’ll never forget her.
There’s no going back to sleep, so I change into a tunic. I’d rather wear comfy denim pantons, but I want to make a good impression on my Family.
Milly loves to cook, I think, as I slip out of the room. I don’t have much experience cooking, but it can’t be that hard. After only two wrong turns, I find the large kitchen downstairs. No one else is awake yet, thankfully. I’ll surprise my new Family with a hot breakfast.
Flapcakes are the only breakfast food I know how to make. I’ve helped Instructor Penny crack eggs and whip a golden liquid into a creamy batter. I search cupboards for ingredients: flour, eggs, and milk. The eggs are fresh from the Hu Family chickens, and the milk is creamy. I find bowls and utensils, then mix and blend into a batter. But it’s not thick and tastes bland.
Following a recipe book seems unimaginative, so I do what I always do when tackling a challenge.
I go outside.
At the Edu-Center, it’s a short walk into the woods to find spicy herbs. But this part of the island is rockier and thicker with brush. Beyond the Fence, dense woods with treetops stretch into the sky. I now live near the most dangerous edge of ShareHaven, where beasts roam beyond the Fence gate. As the only entrance into our community, it’s locked and guarded.
A gravel path curves behind the vehicle storage building, toward neat gardens with row after row of vegetation. A goldenred glow softens the sky and warms my arms as I bend down, studying the plants. I recognize grape vines, corn stalks, and strings of green beans. I whoop with joy when I spot a red-stemmed plant. Cinnasweet is a hybrid of cinnamon and sugar. I sniff the rich sweetness, then pluck a few leaves and tuck them in my tunic pocket.
Smiling to myself, I head back to the kitchen.
I set to work, crushing the leaves then pouring them into my mixture. I add more flour to thicken the batter, whipping it with a wooden spoon until my arm aches. I smile at my creation, then flip flapcakes on a griddle. They’re lumpy and more dirt-brown than golden, but they smell delicious.
Rosemarie’s eyes widen when she sees setting utensils arranged neatly around the table and a steaming stack of flapcakes.
“Graces good, this looks amazing!” she exclaims. “Did you do all this yourself?”
I nod proudly.
“This is wonderful!” She hugs me like we really are sisters. “No one has surprised me with a hot breakfast since … not since Milly.”
“Really? Milly made flapcakes too?”
“She made everything.”
“I only know how to make flapcakes.”
“They smell delicious! And the setting looks lovely.” Rosemarie walks around the table, admiring. “No one will want to miss this. They’ll come, even if I have to drag them out of bed.”
A short while later, everyone except Daisy and Grandmother join us.
“Milly, this brings back won
derful memories,” Arthur tells me with tears in his eyes. I remember the bride and groom portrait and see him in a new way—as a loving husband who lost his wife. I don’t want to let him see me naked or sleep with him, but I offer him a smile—and a flapcake.
“What’s the unusual flavor?” Leader Cross asks, dabbing syrup off his chin with a napkin.
“A sweet secret,” I say mysteriously. I envision creating meals, learning more about herbs, and inventing my own recipes.
The flapcakes are so warm steam rises from the plates. I haven’t eaten any yet because I’ve been so busy. But there’s not much work left, so I take a seat beside Rosemarie. I’m pouring golden syrup from a ceramic jug over a pile of flapcakes when I hear gagging.
Arthur clutches his throat, convulsing in his chair, his face mottled red, as if he can’t breathe.
“Arthur!” Leader Cross lunges over to Arthur. But before he can reach out to help Arthur, he clutches his own stomach. His face pales, then flames as if on fire. He gags. He’s not the only one. Everyone around the table is on their feet, doubling over and gasping in pain.
“Call … the health workers!” Leader Cross manages to say before he vomits on Arthur’s shoes.
All around the table, my new Family turns sick shades of green as they clutch their stomachs and vomit.
I’ve poisoned my Family.
I’ve been banished to my room.
The Family is having a meeting about me. Why can’t I do anything right? How do I always cause trouble? I tried to fit in with the Crosses. But now I can’t guess what they’ll decide. I think Rosemarie will defend me, but my last glimpse of her was her back as she raced out of the room with her hand covering her mouth. She must think I’m a poor Milly replacement.
I don’t want to be Returned like that crazy boy from the last group of youths. Where is he now? I’ve heard rumors the Returned are sent to the scientists’ compound for secret experiments or locked into underground jails by the Uniforms. But I’ve always suspected they were sent outside the Fence. If the claws and snakes don’t get them, the Nocturnes do.
Memory Girl Page 8
