Ascension of Larks

by Rachel Linden

  Chapter Fourteen

  THE NEXT DAY MAGGIE DID NOT GO TO THE hospital, instead staying home with the children so Ellen could run errands in town. She came in from a rousing morning of playing pirate ship with the kids to find five new messages on her phone. Her heart skipped a beat. If someone had called five times, surely there must be an emergency. What if it was the hospital? She had just punched the button to listen to the first message when the phone rang again. She picked it up without looking at the screen.

  “Aha, I knew my little scheme would work,” Alistair said triumphantly. “Good day, my bright star.”

  “What little scheme?” Maggie asked, moving back outside to stand on the deck where she could see the kids. Luca was wearing a scarf tied over one eye like a patch. Jonah, the pirate captain, had collected several sticks to use as swords. Gabby had insisted on being a mermaid and was wearing all her shiny plastic bead necklaces over her two-piece bathing suit, although it was too cool to be in swimwear. She refused to put on anything warmer because it would look less mermaid-like.

  “Oh, I just decided I’d call you every fifteen minutes for as long as it took for you to answer. Persistence, you know, is the child of necessity.”

  “I thought that was invention,” Maggie interposed. “Isn’t invention the child of necessity?”

  “Both. Both are the child of necessity, and speaking of necessity, when are you coming home? I’d so hoped to see you in my office, oh, say, last week.”

  “I left you a message about that—” Maggie began, watching Luca do battle against an invisible opponent with the stick sword Jonah had given him.

  “Yes,” Alistair said, interrupting her. “And I’m ignoring it. Forgotten, done, gone forever.”

  “Alistair.” Maggie sighed, exasperated. “I can’t come home right now.”

  There was a measured silence on the other end of the line. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear you say that and give you a moment to reconsider,” he said, his voice still light. She heard the warning in it, though. She moved to the other end of the deck, away from the children, and dropped her voice so they couldn’t hear her.

  “Alistair, I’m not leaving. I can’t leave. I explained this already. Lena’s still in a coma. Gabby’s having nightmares about drowning almost every night. Luca’s begun wetting the bed, although he thinks we don’t know it. And Jonah . . . Jonah has just closed himself off from the world. I can’t leave. Not yet.”

  A long pause this time, and then Alistair’s voice, biting each word off with perfect British enunciation. “Magdalena, are you mad? You have been given the opportunity of a lifetime, worth all the blood, sweat, toil, and tears of an entire career, and you are just throwing it away without hesitation!”

  “Without hesitation . . . Alistair,” Maggie retorted indignantly, “you have no idea how hard this is for me!” She was speechless for a moment, trying to grasp the right words to make him understand what her decision was costing her.

  “I lie awake and fantasize about taking off from here, about just getting up and packing my bag and hopping on a plane, showing up at the office and starting my project for the Regent. You have no idea how much I want to be back there working on my entry. How much I need to win. Everything is riding on this.” She ran a hand through her tousled curls, searching for the best way to convey the position she was in.

  “This opportunity is more important to me than it is to you,” she said flatly. “I have given my life for my career. I know what I’m risking by staying on the island right now. I know I’m weakening my chances every day I stay here. I understand that, Alistair, but I cannot—cannot—leave right now. Period. End of story. I made a promise, and I can’t leave yet. Not now.”

  She clutched the phone tighter and glanced at the children. Gabby was trying to fasten seashells to her hair with bobby pins. Jonah and Luca were fencing against one another now, Jonah with the decided upper hand.

  Alistair sighed, his tone resigned. “Oh, Magdalena, why must you adhere to such cursed notions of loyalty and honor? Why can’t you just be heartless and conniving like the rest of us?”

  “You’re not heartless and conniving.” Maggie smiled despite herself. She had just bought a little more time, but at what cost? She hoped she wasn’t making a serious error. She had a feeling she was. “You’ve got a heart of gold no matter how you try to hide it.”

  “Yes, well, bully for me.” Alistair’s voice became serious. “Listen, my dear, I know I don’t tell you this nearly often enough, but you’re one of the brightest I’ve ever seen, and you know that’s saying something. I understand you think you have to stay. I know I can’t change your mind. But think very carefully about the choice you’re making. Every day you stay is a day less you will have to prepare. Your competitors aren’t taking breaks, you know. You only get one Regent invitation. No repeats. You know that. You have a chance to win, especially if you can somehow manage to tap into that part of yourself you’ve never known how to access. If you can do that, really connect with your subjects and let yourself be part of the story, I think you stand as good a chance as any of the rest of them, maybe better. So think about what you’re doing by delaying your return. I want you to be sure.”

  Maggie gripped the phone hard as his words sank in. She knew he was speaking the truth. She was silent for a long moment, feeling torn. She had been trying to think up ideas for her Regent entry, to at least start mentally preparing for the competition even if she was geographically constrained to the island, but her attention was completely preoccupied by stress, uncertainty, and grief. It was a disastrous combination for her creative process. She knew she needed to be making headway on her project, but she just couldn’t seem to get into the right frame of mind. When she determined to make some headway, there was always some interruption, something else that demanded her time and attention. She felt blocked in all directions. It felt impossible to leave the children now, but equally impossible to watch the Regent slip away forever. What she needed was time away from the island and mental space where she could think and breathe and dream again.

  Alistair’s call was swaying her resolve. Perhaps some compromise could be made if Lena didn’t wake up soon. Ellen was doing a fine job with the children. Perhaps Maggie could make a trip back to Chicago, work like crazy for a couple of months, and then come back. Maybe it would be enough. Maybe she could keep her promise and enter the Regent. It wasn’t ideal, but it just might be possible.

  “I’ll think about it,” she said. “I can’t do more than that right now.”

  Alistair sighed deeply. “Remember, Magdalena, you’re my brightest star. Don’t forget that, no matter how dark it seems right now.”

  She nodded even though Alistair couldn’t see her, blinking hard against the tears that unexpectedly filled her eyes. The yard blurred, the children dissolving into bright dots of color. “I will,” she promised. There was nothing more to say.

  “Ellen, I’m going for a run,” Maggie called out, lacing up her tennis shoes. The morning had been gray and overcast, threatening rain, but after lunch it had cleared suddenly. Maggie seized the opportunity to get out of the house. It had been more than a week since Lena’s accident, and their lives were settling into a routine. Maggie visited Lena at the hospital every other day, flying home the next afternoon to spend the evening with the kids. The following day she would stay at home to help Ellen with the household and the children.

  It was a grueling schedule, but one that was beginning to feel familiar. Maggie and Ellen had discussed allowing the children to see Lena but had decided it would be too upsetting for them. Better to wait until she woke up. They didn’t discuss what would happen if she didn’t. They would face that later if need be.

  “Have fun,” Ellen said, bustling about the kitchen with the radio on, listening to Neil Diamond. The strains of “Sweet Caroline” filled the house. The kids were seated at the table, eating a snack of celery sticks filled with peanut butter and dotted with raisins. />
  “Aunt Maggie, somebody rebuilded our altar!” Gabby blurted around a mouthful of peanut butter and celery. “Today we looked and somebody made it better. I think it was a fairy.”

  “That’s nice, sweetie,” Maggie said, not really concentrating. She declined a smeary celery stick, grabbing a glass of water instead.

  “Your phone rang,” Ellen informed her, nodding to her cell phone perched on the table.

  “Thanks.” Maggie grabbed the phone and checked the number to make sure it wasn’t the hospital. It wasn’t, so Maggie ignored the call, tucking the phone in the pocket of her running shorts and slipping out the French doors to the deck. She stretched for a few moments and then loped across the lawn. The grass was growing tall around her ankles. Almost time for another visit from the landscaping crew Marco and Lena employed to keep the property looking beautiful. Maggie made a mental note to check with the company about how Marco and Lena handled payments. She needed to start figuring out how the recurring bills worked for the household, the mundane but necessary tasks that kept a home running smoothly. It wouldn’t do for the electricity or water to be turned off for lack of payment.

  And she hadn’t even begun to figure out how to handle the details of the Firellis’ New York house, what the expenses were and how to manage them. She assumed Marco and Lena had set up a system to take care of the house over the summer while they were gone, but she had no idea how it worked. She would need to sort it all out soon. But she wouldn’t worry about that now, not in her few brief moments of freedom.

  It was a relief to be out, to be released from the demands of the children and the house. The truth was that she had begun to feel very trapped indeed. The sensation prickled along her skin like a heat rash, making her irritable. She was familiar with the feeling. It happened whenever she stayed in a place too long. After a few weeks or a month she’d get the almost uncontrollable urge to move on. It rarely happened on assignment. There was always something to do, something interesting and new to focus on. And her assignments almost never lasted long enough to make her itch to go. But the infrequent times she’d been in Chicago for more than a few weeks, she’d found herself eaten alive with the sensation. Sometimes it even happened on the island when she visited Marco and Lena. A month was a long time to stay with one family, live one life. Usually when she began to feel this way she could just leave, jetting off to someplace new and exciting. But not here, not now. She was stuck.

  Maggie headed for the bluff path that ran along the water’s edge, winding along the black rugged cliffs high above the water. She needed the wide-open sky above her head and the rolling expanse of the sea below. She ran fast, feet pounding the packed dirt, the steady thud, thud, thud of her pace beginning to clear her head. A fox, black with a white-tipped tail, darted across the path and disappeared into a tangle of brush under a red Madrona tree.

  Maggie ran harder than usual, longer than she realized, and when she finally began to tire she was miles from home. She looped back, taking the return at a leisurely pace. When she was close to the house again, she stopped for a break. She still had an hour before dinner, and so she headed toward the bluffs, enjoying the moment of peace.

  The sun was bright, warming the chilly breeze blowing in over the water. Above her, gulls circled and cried, looking for a meal. She sat down on her favorite little promontory, a knuckle of coarse black rock speckled with grayish-green lichen jutting out from the shore, and pulled out her phone to listen to her messages. The first was from the rental car company, wondering when she would like to return the car. She guiltily pressed the Save Message button, reminding herself to call them. She’d contacted them the day after Lena’s accident to extend her rental time and put Ellen on the rental contract so she could also drive the car. Lena’s Volvo had been totaled. But Maggie hadn’t told the car company how long she would keep the car. In truth, she still didn’t know.

  All the rest of the messages were old ones from Alistair. Of course. She sighed, deleting all of them. She didn’t want to listen to them again. His words hit too close to the bone, not because he was being callous or mean, but because he was brutally honest. She slipped her cell phone back into the pocket of her running shorts and stood, stretching out her muscles after the run, using a series of simple yoga poses she’d learned years ago in India.

  Slowly raising her arms into the Mountain pose, Maggie thought about her last conversation with Alistair. Every day she felt as though she was sliding one step closer to an inevitable conclusion, but she was stymied. She didn’t know what to do, not yet. So she simply tried to avoid both Alistair’s calls and thinking about the deadline fast approaching. She knew that with her lack of action she was making a decision, albeit a passive one. Soon she would have to make a choice.

  Maggie lifted one arm high in the air and spread her legs, stretching into the Triangle pose, holding her body still, breathing slowly and trying to release tension. It was impossible. She thought of Lena, so silent and pale in the hospital bed, of Marco, gone forever. And of the children. She pictured their three small, worried faces. They desperately needed stability, someone to hold Gabby when she woke screaming, choking on salt water in her recurring nightmares. Someone to keep an eye on Jonah as he slipped further and further into an aloof silence. But there were other pressing issues too. A mountain of debt that couldn’t be erased with the flick of a magic wand, as well as the career opportunity of a lifetime slipping further away each day she stayed. She touched the cell phone in her pocket but did not draw it out. Alistair’s words had been haunting her since their last conversation. She could not push them from her mind. She squatted on the rocky ground, bringing her palms together in front of her in the Garland pose, trying to breathe in and out slowly, peacefully, struggling to find serenity in the whirl of her thoughts.

  “You only get one Regent invitation. No repeats,” Alistair had told her. This was it, her one chance. There would not be another. Yet could she really leave now? What was stopping her?

  “Think very carefully about the choice you’re making,” Alistair’s voice in her head reminded her. “Every day you stay is a day less you will have to prepare. Your competitors are not taking breaks, you know.”

  Maggie exhaled sharply, frustrated, the feeling of being trapped returning in a rush. “What do I do?” she asked aloud. Far out in the water, two porpoises arced from the swells, the graceful curve of their dull-gray backs showing for a moment. It was the only answer she received. She stood, determined to calm her scattered thoughts by force of will. Raising both arms and tucking one leg up like a flamingo, she held the Tree pose, concentrating on not toppling over.

  More than a week, and there was still no change in Lena’s condition. This was a waiting game, an exhausting one, and Maggie felt more drained than she’d ever been in her life. Partly it was the strain of worry for Lena and the transit back and forth between the island and the hospital, but more than that it was the sheer domestic bustle of raising children. It all seemed second nature for Ellen, who cooked and did laundry as though she’d been doing it all her life. Maggie supposed she had. She even refereed the children’s arguments with ease. But Maggie was more often than not at a loss for the right words or techniques for dealing with three children whose worries and insecurities came out in myriad ways. When it came right down to it, the only thing she did better than Ellen was reading stories at bedtime. Ellen did all the characters in the same voice, which was boring.

  Maggie let her hands drop, abandoning the yoga poses, too preoccupied with her current dilemma to find inner peace. What if she did return to Chicago? She considered the idea, turning it over in her mind, testing its mettle.

  Ellen can handle the household while I’m gone, Maggie assured herself, pacing the rocky bluff path as her thoughts churned. It’s not like I’m really contributing a whole lot anyway.

  Maggie stopped and put her hands on her hips, staring out to sea. Maybe it was best if she used the time well, not just waiting on the islan
d, but doing something productive to help them all out. Whether or not Lena awoke, someone had to tackle the pressing financial problem. If Lena woke up, she would be grateful to have at least some of the debt taken care of. And if she didn’t . . . well, that was another issue entirely, but either way, the debt was not going to magically resolve itself, and time was ticking away day by day. It was up to Maggie to take care of Lena and the children, to provide a way for them to keep their home. It was her responsibility.

  “So I need to go back to work,” Maggie said aloud, a little uncertainly. A bald eagle soared overhead, wings motionless as he banked and turned. “I need to go back to Chicago and try to win the Regent.” The words felt wrong in her mouth, as though she were spitting out stones as she spoke them, but it was the option that made the most sense. She could see no other way.

  “I’m doing this for all of us,” Maggie said finally, trying to convince herself. She would head back to Chicago, work hard for as long as Ellen could cope with her being away, finish her entry for the Regent before the deadline, and return to the island once her entry was complete. It still might not be enough time to really give the Regent her best shot, but it was the best she could do. She straightened her shoulders and strengthened her resolve, shrugging off her twinge of guilt and unease. This was the best thing for everyone. Decision made, she headed back to the house to buy a one-way ticket to O’Hare.

  On her way back to the house, Maggie stopped at the altar on impulse. It was cooler in the shadow of the Douglas fir trees, light filtering dimly through the branches, illuminating mossy rocks and gnarled roots rising from the soil. She inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with the fecund scent, dampness and decay and the sweet spice of fir needles. Her steps were silent on the springy earth. It felt like a holy place somehow, although just a few days before it had been nothing but a patch of bare ground.