“You made it,” she heard a girl say.
After a time Saskia felt herself being dragged and lifted. Someone pulled off her shirt and unsnapped her bra. She tried to resist but was too tired. Eventually, she felt the soft pile of a rug against her back, the weight of a blanket over her body. Someone slipped a pillow beneath her head.
“If they come back, just say she’s sick,” Saskia heard a voice say matter-of-factly.
“Right, she’s got the flu,” said another with equal briskness.
“Not in the summer!”
“Okay, fine. Food poisoning.”
Saskia understood now. She understood everything. She was lying down in the Sampras den, the sisters on either side of her. Paige was urging her to sit up, to sip chamomile tea. Saskia obeyed, but the fetid taste of stale water remained on her tongue.
“I threw her clothes in the dryer,” said Sara Beth.
“When they’re ready, let’s take her home,” Paige replied. “The sooner, the better.”
“What if her dad’s there?”
“She’ll be okay by then. It didn’t take Adrienne long.”
“I’m fine,” answered Saskia, though they weren’t addressing her. She wasn’t fine—her throat hurt, and her head felt clogged. She was embarrassed by how weak and infantile she was, naked on the floor.
“Hey, you’re back,” Paige cheered, her voice suddenly bright and animated. She put her hand against Saskia’s cheek. “You had us scared.”
“Yeah,” she answered, sitting up and taking the cup of tea Paige offered her. Her hand was unsteady, and hot liquid dripped down her wrist.
“You took it harder than we thought,” Paige said.
Saskia took another sip of tea, then set down the cup. It had felt weirdly heavy in her hand, and she was pretty sure she would have dropped it if she’d held it any longer. As Sara Beth and Paige crowded close, Saskia longed to go home and rest in her own bed, in her own house, alone. She didn’t like being the object of their attention; their solicitousness felt too much like pity.
“Can I go home now?” she murmured.
“Of course,” Paige assured her.
For better or worse, Saskia’s father wasn’t at home when the three girls arrived. Sara Beth and Paige followed her into the house and up the stairs. Paige walked behind her. “Just in case you get dizzy,” she said. Sara Beth turned down her sheets and teased something about a bedtime story. Saskia smiled weakly.
When she was nestled under the covers, Paige kissed her on the forehead like a mother would. Her lips felt warm and soft. “See you soon, brave girl,” she said. “You did a great job.”
“Yeah, you were a champ,” added Sara Beth.
“Thanks,” Saskia replied groggily.
“We’ll lock the door on our way out,” said Paige. “Want us to do anything else?”
Saskia shook her head.
“All right. Good night, then. Love you.”
“Love you, too,” Saskia replied, as if on autopilot.
When they’d gone, she tried to shut her eyes, to shut off her mind. But now that she was finally alone in her own house, the events of the night lay heavy on her mind. She tried to process what had happened, but she felt confused by conflicting emotions: relief, anger, satisfaction, resentment, thankfulness, doubt. Go to sleep, she told herself. Yet her mind insisted on consciousness, and her thoughts bent in odd directions. She reflected on dripping-wet hair, heavy stone breasts, dull eyes, strong hands, furtive whispers too quiet to hear. She wondered if the sisters were truly safeguarding the club or if they had an ulterior motive, then felt guilty for doubting them. After all, they had cared enough to take her home and put her safely to bed. And Paige thought of her like a second sister—didn’t she?
Minutes passed. Then hours. Still her thoughts and feelings continued to whir like a blender in her head. Exasperated, she sat up and threw off her sheets. She knew she needed to do something drastic, or she would never rest. She thought briefly about the baggie of pills, but dismissed the idea when she remembered her father’s lecture in the car.
Creeping out of bed, she found the mercury, tipped a drop into the palm of her hand, and licked it off before she could talk herself out of it. Water silver, quick silver, hydrargyrum. People have given it many names through the ages, Cornelius had said once. Whatever mercury’s name, and whatever its capabilities or dangers, she was grateful for it, and the daguerreotype, too. When at last she saw Cornelius, she sighed with relief.
Finally, an escape.
Adrienne
“Man alive! Where have you been?” Nurse Reynolds exclaimed, soapy hands on her hips.
Adrienne blinked and found herself outside the front of the barn. She felt disconcerted and a little queasy. It was usually like this when she arrived at the field hospital. Like she’d been dropped from an airplane.
“You can’t come and go as you please. Here one day, gone the next!” she heard Nurse Reynolds say. “The men depend on you. I do, too, frankly.”
Still trying to get her bearings, Adrienne looked tentatively at the barn door, relieved to see that the rancid pile of limbs finally had been carted away. It had been rotting and festering there for what felt like an eternity.
“Sorry!” Adrienne replied, and she meant it. If she could spend all day at the field hospital, she would. But sometimes in her bedroom in the modern world, she just couldn’t fall asleep. Even when she handled the mercury for a half hour, rubbing it between her palms like lotion. Even when she swallowed a few drops, along with more than a few sleeping pills.
“Your young man—Emery—he’s been asking for you,” the nurse said, her annoyance having waned. Lately, she’d seemed more willing to turn a blind eye to the affection between the two young people.
Nurse Reynolds had even given up quoting Dorothea Dix, superintendent of all wartime nurses. “Nurse Dix expects your hair to be combed back,” she used to repeat to Adrienne ad nauseum. “And for land’s sake, don’t you own a single dress with a high neck and long sleeves?”
Adrienne knew that since her arrival only two men had died, and both had been hopeless cases to begin with. The other men were healing. Some were even flourishing. This hadn’t happened in the course of Nurse Reynolds’s tenure. It must be clear to her that Adrienne’s presence and suggestions were the reason for this improvement.
“Thanks. I’ll go check on him,” Adrienne said, hustling into the barn.
When she saw Emery, he was sitting up. He looked good—healthy, like the boy in the daguerreotype. The only difference was that his gaze was more contemplative now.
“Good day, Nurse Arch!”
“Good day.”
“I’ve been hoping you’d appear.”
She smiled shyly.
“It’s the oddest thing,” he said, pointing at his stump, “but I can still feel it. It’s like my arm is still there.”
Adrienne nodded and sat on the edge of his cot. Another soldier, who’d lost his leg, had said the same thing. “Miss Reynolds calls them phantom limbs,” she explained. “Even though you lost your arm, your mind hasn’t erased the memory of it yet.”
He looked away from his missing arm and took her hand. “I missed you.”
She was too startled to respond.
“Where do you go?” he asked.
“Why does everyone keep asking me that?”
“Because you just disappear.”
“Every girl has her secrets.”
That made him laugh. “All I know is, everything is better when you’re here. See how I was worried about my ‘phantom limb’? As soon as you explained it to me, my worry vanished. The same when I told you I feared I’d never swim again or swing an ax. You assured me I would. You’re the only person who makes me feel like life is still worth the trouble—especially without my brother.”
Adrienne looked down, not wanting him to see how moved and humbled she was. She wasn’t used to this kind of praise. Or any praise, really.
“I’m starting to write again, too.” Emery motioned to a cedar pencil and a couple scraps of rough paper lying under his cot. “My left hand’s getting better. But it’s still weak. Would you help me write a letter?”
Adrienne glanced at the other men in the barn. No one seemed to need her urgent attention, and Nurse Reynolds was still here.
“Okay,” she agreed. She could spare a few minutes before changing sheets and bandages. For Emery, she could always spare time.
“Who’s it for?” she asked.
“A young lady.”
“Oh?”
“Her name’s Mollie.”
“Who is she?”
“If you wouldn’t mind, I’d just like you to write the letter.”
“Fine,” Adrienne replied.
Emery cleared his throat.
My dear Molly,
As Adrienne wrote, he corrected her. “Mollie ends with an ie.”
“Fine,” she said again, this time more sharply.
I write in the hope that this letter finds you in good health and good spirits. It’s been months, surely, since I last had the opportunity to write. But trust in the fact that you have remaned in my mind and heart these many weeks.
Adrienne wrote slowly. She began to feel very worried.
Though I still support President Lincoln and our Goverment, this war has been bloodyer than I ever could have imagined. It takes lives indiscrimanately, and leaves the living to stew in the grief. I have lost so many of my friends, I dare not count. Every night I am racked by guilt—why has God taken my comrades in arms, but not me? I have no answer.
By now, Mollie, you have probably heard that we have lost dear Harry, too. My only solice is that my brave brother died quickly. I don’t think he experienced but a few moments’ pain. I am grateful that he is now peaceful and safe in Our Heavenly Father’s kingdom.
As for me, the Union says I am no longer fit to fight. I lost my arm, you see. Mollie, as I lay here ailing, I think about returning to you, and to all the promises we made to one another.
“I’m not sure I want to write this anymore,” Adrienne said abruptly, setting down the pencil. She’d summited a mountain of anxiety. There was nowhere else to go but down.
“Please—I’m coming to the end.”
“No.”
Emery looked her in the eye. “Miss Arch, I need you to finish.” He said this with such insistence that Adrienne found herself resuming her task, albeit reluctantly.
For two years we talked about changing our situation in life. And never once did I question our decision to unite as man and wife once the war ended. Yet battle has changed me. It has changed everything. And I fear the lives we used to live, and the dreams we used to have, have been shelled to the point of annihillation.
I am no longer the man you knew. It wouldn’t be fair to pretend other wise. And as a changed man, I must now change my course. I realize I am destined, by the great hand of providence, to love another. I see in her all the hope I feared was lost. This revalation may pain you, and I am sincerely sorry for that. It was never my intention to bring you anything but happiness.
May God ever bless you.
Farewell—
Emery
“So you’re dumping her?” Adrienne ventured, her head spinning. “This fiancée I didn’t even know you had?” She wavered between shock, anger, and relief.
“If ‘dumping’ means what I think it means,” Emery replied.
“And the girl—it’s me?”
“Who else would it be?” He smiled tentatively. “I know I can’t ask now, not in these conditions. Not as I am. But will you consider later when I’m able?”
“Will I consider what?”
“Marriage, of course.”
She gaped at him. “Are you for real?”
“Are you?”
She took a deep breath. “Listen, Emery, I need to tell you something.”
“Your answer, I hope?”
“It turns out there’s a lot I don’t know about you. And, well, there’s a lot you don’t know about me, too.”
“I know everything I need to.”
“No, not everything.”
Emery put his hand to her face. His thumb brushed her cheek. “Tell me whatever you want, but my mind is made up.”
“We’ll see about that,” Adrienne said evenly.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
S: lila, I’m sorry. i f’ed up
S: I shouldn’t have yelled at u. it was stupid. i was stupid
S: i know you’re , but can u pls write me back
S: i need to talk to u
S: pleaze!
S: come on . . . I’ll wash your /buy u French fries/babysit your 1,000,000 siblings?
S: just as long as we’re good
S: are we?
S: Lila?
Many hours later, Lila finally replied.
L: i don’t know if I can be your friend anymore
L: sorry, but it’s true
Saskia’s stomach sank. Lila was a matter-of-fact person; she wouldn’t write something she didn’t mean. Still, Saskia had to try. She had to believe there was still a chance to save their friendship. The alternative was too heartbreaking to consider.
S: lila! i didn’t mean it. honest
L: yeah u did
S: ok so maybe I kinda meant it—at the time. but I know u were just trying to be a good friend. i blew it
Minutes passed. Saskia’s stomachache got worse. She figured Lila was done with her. If she were to put herself in Lila’s place, she’d be done with herself, too. Lila was always going out of her way to help her, and how had Saskia repaid that? By being selfish and ungrateful. She stared at her cell phone, wondering if there was any way, any way at all, to redeem herself.
L: maybe I’ll take the car wash
L: the buick does need a bath
Saskia grinned. She texted faster than she’d ever texted before.
S: have sponge + soap; will travel
L: so . . . how did it go??? the punishment with meryl streep
S: i’m alive
L: you’re loco. so’s adrienne. u 2 will do anything the sisters say
S: maybe. but this time it wasn’t about them
L: come on
S: it was about cornelius. i wouldn’t want to betray him. and I realized I kind of had. by proxy. By telling A. it was OK to keep seeing B.
L: u didn’t do anything wrong
S: yeah i did
L: loco
S: wouldn’t u take a punishment for Cassie?
L: punishments do not = loyalty/love
S: maybe they do
L: maybe don’t pick up what the sisters put down
S: they’re just passionate about the mbc. esp paige
L: passionate’s NOT the word I’d use
S: I get u don’t like her
L: i don’t understand her. but she’s your friend. I don’t want u to have to choose between us
S: thanks. u r the best. the best friend I have
L: you back
S: so you forgive me?
L: yeah, but u still owe me a favor
S: besides beautifying the buick?
L: buick = already beautiful. I have a new plan — stay tuned
The location, Saskia soon found out, was the Howard and Alice Steerkemp Daguerreotypes Collection. She was back there with Lila. Like old times, Rich eyed them warily.
“How are you, Rich?” Lila asked.
“Pretty good,” he replied, pushing his black glasses up the bridge of his nose self-consciously.
“Anything new?”
&n
bsp; “Whelp, no . . . except Veronica died.”
“Oh no! How?”
“Not sure. Old age, maybe. She was sixteen or seventeen.”
“I’m so sorry.” Lila turned to Saskia and explained, “Veronica was his pet snake.”
“Oh,” said Saskia. “Sorry to hear that, Rich.”
His downcast eyes betrayed sadness, but he waved her off. “No big deal—she was just a snake.”
“Are you gonna get another one?” asked Lila. “Sorry. That wasn’t a very sensitive question. She only just died.”
“It’s all right. And the answer is, I don’t know. I got Veronica when an old roommate left her behind. I didn’t even want her. I wasn’t a reptile guy. But, you know, I got used to having her around. I guess you get used to anything after seventeen years.”
“True.”
“Hey, I do have some good news, though,” Rich said, suddenly more chipper.
“What?”
“I put in that application . . . for the Master of Library Science program.”
“Whoa! Good for you, Rich!”
“It’ll be good if I get in . . .”
“You will.”
He shrugged, but he seemed proud, too, like Lila’s opinion meant something.
“Rich, we need to go into the archives again,” she told him quietly.
Agitation snuffed out his brief, flickering gladness. “Lila, one of these days, I’m telling you, you’re gonna get hoisted by your own petard.”
“What does that even mean?” she asked, giggling.
“No idea, but it can’t be good.”
She stopped laughing when she met his serious gaze.
“Listen,” he said, “Marlene didn’t get the raise she was up for. Now she’s on the warpath. She’s actively searching for victims.”
“Has she mentioned any of the daguerreotypes we borrowed?”
“I’m amused you’re still using the word borrowed.”
Mercury Boys Page 27
