News travels fast in Kildevil. By now, everyone knows what happened last night. And Clara knew exactly who would feel too guilty to refuse to help. We quickly collect the people on her list and head back to the Grand Hotel. We pass no other warders but when we arrive they are all gone. Not that they appear to have done much over the past few weeks. The hydroponic plants have all died from neglect. The place is a mess. Clara and Erica have already organized the children into teams. We spend the day cleaning. By the time I fall into bed exhausted that night, I know that running the workcamp is going to be a huge responsibility.
As I dress the next morning, I realize that all this could mean one good thing for me. I put the idea to Erica over breakfast as tactfully as I can. “It’s going to take a lot of work to run that camp,” I say. “I could give up my apprenticeship with Clara.”
Erica looks pleased but says, “You can’t make a sacrifice like that, Blake. The apprenticeship only takes half your day. You can spend mornings at the workcamp. That will be enough.” I curse myself for trying to be clever when I should have been honest. But if I told Erica how bad I am with the yam, she would only tell me to give it time.
Fraser comes to the door before I’ve finished clearing the dishes. “I’m ready,” he announces. He looks so grim that it takes me a moment to understand.
“You are?”
Erica laughs. “What’s going on?” When we explain, she stops laughing. “I’m glad,” she says. “Lem is stronger than we imagined. You saw that for yourselves. And, Fraser, I think he wants to see you.”
Fraser looks apprehensive. “Do you want to come with us?” he asks.
Erica shakes her head. “This is between Lem and you.” I hadn’t thought of that. “Maybe I should stay here, too,” I say.
“No!” Fraser shouts, then catches himself. “I mean, I won’t go without you.”
“All right then. Let’s go.” I’m afraid if we wait any longer Fraser may lose his courage.
We don’t speak going up the hill, but when Fraser sees Lem’s house he grabs my hand. He holds so tightly it hurts but I don’t tell him. When the door opens, I start to say, “Lem this is . . .” but Lem doesn’t let me finish.
He gently places his huge hands on Fraser’s frail shoulders. “My son,” he says. “I’d know you anywhere.”
Fraser’s eyes fill with tears. “You remember me?”
Lem shakes his head. “I’ve tried and tried. I remember Michelle pregnant. That’s all.”
“Then how did you know me?” Fraser says.
“You look just like her. Come see.” Lem brings us inside.
“Sit down,” he says. He makes a few passes at a control panel and, suddenly, she is in the room with us behind a keyboard, a small-boned, black-haired woman with Fraser’s eyes. And Lem is too, younger, stronger, and somehow whole. It’s a performance on holo-disk. Michelle’s face is intense with concentration and pleasure as she plays. They are both so young. The music they make is wonderful, and, when their eyes meet, anyone could see how much they love each other.
Then it’s over. She is gone and Lem’s house is as empty as a broken heart. Fraser just stares at the place where she stood, tears streaming down his face. Lem bends close to him. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I never can bear to watch that myself. I should have asked you.”
Fraser gives a shaky sigh. “Can we see it again?”
How My Light Is Spent
The next time Fraser and I climb the hill, he brings his concertina. “That’s great,” Lem says. “Here, look at this.” He spreads out a sheet of music.
Fraser looks confused. “What’s that?”
“You can’t read music? I’ll teach you.”
Fraser shakes his head. “I’ve never been good at learning things on paper.”
“You just never had the right teacher,” Lem says. They don’t even notice when I slip away about an hour later. There’s no point in staying. Together they make a unit, a whole, a . . . family. The unfamiliar word falls into place like the missing piece of an old-fashioned puzzle. They are a family and I am still, what did Lem say once? A lost soul.
I am a lost soul. The scum of St. Pearl. Over the next week, I call myself this and every other vile name I can think of. Because their happiness, which I wanted so badly, should not fill me with this bitter, black rage. But it does. I feel as if something is gnawing at my chest. I gave Lem and Fraser back to one another and now I’ve lost them both. I can’t even bear to see them together.
I struggle against this feeling almost constantly-tangling and untangling yam on various devices in Clara’s house, walking back and forth to Kildevil, lying in my bed at night where sleep rarely finds me. I only forget to be miserable in the mornings at the workcamp where I’ve been assigned to work with the youngest ones, the toddlers. After the first day, Poppy turned up. “They said I could help you,” she said. She seemed afraid I might say no, but I need her. Most of the kids are almost too easy to handle. They do what they are told out of fear. But there’s one little girl, Violet. I hate to think what happened to her before she came here because if anyone touches her, she screams and that’s the only sound she makes. With extra help I might be able to do something for her.
The people of Kildevil come forward one by one, ashamed of what almost happened, and the workcamp changes into something more like a school. Erica plunges into this work with all her heart. She even eats with the children, so most of the time I do, too. Marrella, of course, refuses. She grumbles but learns to cook for herself, leaving dirty pots and dishes for me to deal with at the end of the day. I talk to Erica so rarely that I miss her almost as much as Fraser and Lem. So I’m happy when she sits down beside me one night at dinner. “Are you all right, Blake?” she says. “You look worn-out.”
“I’m fine,” I lie.
Erica sighs. “I guess we’re all working too hard. I’ll be so glad when William comes home. Did I tell you? They’re coming tomorrow.”
“Carson too?” I wonder if Marrella knows.
“Yes,” Erica says. “They weren’t able to restore Carson’s leg. Regeneration therapy has to be started immediately, and it was days before they got him to a hospital. Carson’s very bitter. I don’t know how Donna will cope.”
What I say next is not for Marrella’s sake but for Donna and Carson. “You remember how upset Marrella was when the fighting happened? Maybe she’d help out with Carson.”
Erica laughs. “I doubt that Marrella’s concern would translate into anything as practical as hard work.”
“It wouldn’t hurt to ask.”
“Well, you know her better than I do. I’ll give it a try. Speaking of healing,” she says, “have you seen Lem lately?”
“No,” I say, not meeting her eyes. “Why?”
“I wondered if you’d noticed the change. He’s so much more—focused. Maybe he was getting better all along and I just didn’t see. But now, with Fraser, it’s quite dramatic. You’ll see for yourself. They’re going to teach music here.”
“Here?”
“Yes. Lem has ideas for the children. Fraser’s quite excited.” She reaches over and takes my hand. “Blake,” she says, “you did a good thing for both of them.” I only nod, hoping she will mistake my silence for modesty. And she must be too tired to see me as she usually would because she rises to leave. “That might be a good idea about Marrella. Donna will certainly need the help. I’ll talk to Marrella. And try to get some rest, dear. You look exhausted.” Then she’s gone. It seems I can help everyone but myself. I push my tray away and sigh. They also serve who only stand and wait.
I didn’t think Lem and Fraser would teach the toddlers, but the next morning they march into the Rotunda with heavy bags that clatter to the floor. When Poppy sees Lem, she leaves the children and follows him like a shadow. While Fraser unpacks, Lem comes directly to me. “Blake, where the hell have you been? I’ve missed you.” Erica’s right. He’s changed.
“Oh, busy. You know. With the childre
n, at Clara’s.”
His silence forces me to peek up at him. He’s looking directly into my eyes, like anyone would. “I don’t care what you have to do. Make time for us. Come and see me tonight.”
I look away. “Oh, sure,” I say, not meaning it.
“Promise me, Blake, please.” His voice is urgent. “I’ve found stuff. About your past. You have to know.”
I feel as if someone just hit the back of my knees. I sway and Fraser, coming to join us, puts his arm out. “Whoa,” he says. “Steady.”
“What did you find?” My voice is a whisper.
Lem looks troubled. “It’s complicated, Little Wheat.”
That name almost makes me smile. “It’s best if I take you through the documents step by step so we can piece it together.”
Suddenly, I’m aware of the wailing of more than one toddler. “The children,” I say. I’d forgotten them.
Lem smiles. “That’s what we’re here for. Look. We’ve set all these percussion instruments up like a Balinese gamelan. Let’s get the kids over here. Poppy, can you help us?” Poppy somehow obeys without taking her eyes off Lem. We spend the rest of the morning helping the toddlers try the instruments. It’s a mixed success. Some are terrified by the noise. Violet cannot be coaxed out of a corner. Lem makes notes. “For next time,” he tells me.
After lunch it’s time to go to Clara’s. “I’ll walk with you,” Fraser says.
“What about the instruments?”
“I’ll get my half later, on my way back up to Lem’s. I’m staying there now. I’ve never met anyone like him,” Fraser says as we head for town. “He works like crazy. I study music, we plan lessons for the kids, then he spends every night trying to find out what happened to you.”
This is more than I can bear. “Won’t you tell me?”
“I don’t know, Blake. He says you’ve got to hear it first.”
“I thought he’d forgotten me. Now that he has you, I mean.”
“No. He said, it’s even more important to find out now because you brought me to him and you still have no one.”
The gnawing inside me stops. Lem’s wrong. “I thought I had no one too,” I tell Fraser, “but that’s not true.”
“We kept expecting you,” Fraser says. “Where have you been?”
I smile. “I guess I got lost.” He shakes his head but doesn’t ask.
Fraser spots the military vehicle in front of Donna’s house before I do. “Look,” he says. We break into a run but stop short in front of Clara’s house, afraid of intruding. Carson isn’t the only one going home today. Other faces peer out of the van. Donna and William step out as a chair lowers itself into the street.
In it sits the shell of Carson Walsh. He is hunched forward, his shaved head down, hands lifeless in his lap. It’s as if the past few months have used up his life, leaving him an old man. William and Donna hover around him as the van pulls away. Fraser takes a step forward but I grab his arm. “No,” I whisper, dragging him to Clara’s house. “He doesn’t want us to see him like this.” I can’t say how I know, but I’m sure. “Give him time.”
When Fraser leaves, Clara gives me a winder and bobbins. I set up by a window facing Donna’s house. I feel guilty about spying but I can’t stop myself. Soon William leaves and, shortly after, Marrella arrives. She’s wearing a tunic and leggings and a blue headscarf-the clothes she wore the day Carson first saw her. For the next half hour, every skein of yam that touches my hands tangles instantly. How can I wait to find out what’s happening? But I don’t have to. Marrella comes out again far too soon. Before I can look away she sees me. To my surprise, she comes to Clara’s door. “Can I come in?” she says.
“Of course. I’ll get Clara.”
“No, don’t. I’d rather talk to you.” I try to pretend this is perfectly normal. I go back to work and she sits with a heavy sigh. “This is going to be a lot harder than I thought,” she says.
“Why? What did you expect?”
“I thought he’d be so pleased to know a bio-indicator was looking after him, he’d perk right up.” She lowers her voice in case Clara is near. “I thought he’d be happy to see me.”
“Isn’t he?” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I realize how cruel they sound.
Marrella colors. “No.” After an awkward pause she says, “You’re doing that all wrong.” She takes the winder, untangles the wool, expertly winds a bobbin, and hands it back to me.
I’m astonished. “Where did you learn that?” It seems everyone can do this work but me.
“I was apprenticed to a weaver after my grandmother died. The dyes and yams set off my allergies. That’s how I got to be a bio-indicator. Look, there’s no point in seeing Carson again today. Let me teach you how to wind these properly.”
I look at the yam, already tangled in my hands again. “I’d be happier if you could teach me how to have allergic reactions.” For a nano-second, I think she’s going to slap me. But then she starts to laugh. By the time Clara comes to see what’s going on, we have laughed ourselves helpless. But by the end of the day, I know how to use a bobbin winder.
The Master Thief
We eat at home tonight, in honor of William’s return. I say nothing about Lem’s discovery. Partly because Carson’s problems overshadow my own and partly because I am too terrified to talk about it. William tells us what happened in St. Pearl. “When Carson realized they’d lost the chance to restore his leg, he just gave up,” he says. “He won’t take therapy now. It’s his heart that needs healing most.”
After we’ve heard all about Carson, he moves on to the other reason he was in St. Pearl—the university. “Of course, I wasn’t the only one with the idea,” he says. “We’re fairly sure something can be set up by next fall. It won’t really be a university at first but it will give people hope for the future.” I glance at Marrella. She looks as unhappy as I feel.
After the meal, it’s clear that Erica and William are anxious to be alone. “I think I’ll go see Lem and Fraser,” I say as casually as I can.
Erica looks surprisingly serious. “Should I come with you?”
Lem must have spoken to her. “No, stay here with William.”
She looks uncertain, then says, “If you’re sure,” and kisses me good-bye.
Walking up Ski Slope in the dark, I remember the first time I came here with a basket in my hand. That girl didn’t even know her name. Now, I will find out even more. But when I see Lem, I know this is not a happy story.
“Come in, Little Wheat,” he says. “Fraser, get her some of that stew.” He’s stalling.
“I’ve eaten, thanks. You know why I’m here, Lem. Please.”
We sit at the kitchen table. Fraser pulls up a chair. Lem takes a sheet of paper out of a folder. “I found this notice.” He hands it to me. After the electronic header, it says, “MISSING CHILD. Blake Raintree, aged two years, one month. Taken from her mother in St. Pearl, Terra Nova Prefecture, on the night of August 25, 2354.”
“Taken. What does that mean?”
“I wondered, too. Once I had a date, I could start checking the archived newslist. That was for the resistance. Only approved members could access it and the accounts were masked. But they were still pretty cautious about what they posted. This is what I found.” He hands me a second piece of paper. “The toddler was snatched from a chair at an outdoor cafe,” it reads. “The poor mother is frantic. Frankly, we’re afraid she was taken for organs but we’re still looking. She has a micro-dot embedded in her left wrist. If anyone can help, please contact us.”
“Snatched from a chair at an outdoor cafe. But I remember that!” And I tell Lem and Fraser about the yellow bowl in the pool of light, the arms that grabbed me.
“There’s more,” Lem says, handing me another paper.
“This is different. From the archive of an e-zine. A publication. I’ve marked the part about you.”
The article is dated October 2354 and is headed “DISAPPEARING CHILDREN IN ST. PEA
RL.” About halfway down, at Lem’s mark, I begin to read. “Emily Monax, a former professor of English literature, arrived in St. Pearl this summer with her two-year-old daughter, only to have the child snatched away one night soon after. ‘A blonde girl ripped her out of a chair at a sidewalk cafe,’ she tearfully related. ‘I only turned my head for an instant. She even took my purse. Who would hire a child to do such a thing? I only want my baby back. I’d do anything.’’’ The paper falls to the table and everything fades.
“Blake, are you all right? You look faint.” Lem’s voice seems very far away.
“She stole me.”
“Who did?” Fraser asks.
“Hilary. She said she found me. Why would she steal me from my mother?”
“Do you want to stop?” Lem asks. I shake my head. “There’s one more,” he says. “This is the hardest. Do you want me to read it to you?” I nod. “It’s from the e-list again. The header reads: ‘Regarding the Child Blake Raintree.’ It says, ‘A few weeks ago, I was looking for information on a missing child. This is to let everyone know the mother is now on location. She decided to go public, unleashing a predictable chain of events.’”
“What does that mean? I don’t understand.”
“‘On location’ means she was picked up by the Commission. When her story was published they noticed her.”
I look at the e-zine article on the table. My eyes catch on words and I read them out loud. “‘I only want my baby back. I’d do anything.’ She knew what she was doing, didn’t she?”
“I think she did,” Lem says.
Then I realize something. “But if she ended up in Markland, wouldn’t Erica have known her?”
Lem shakes his head. “I asked. She didn’t know anyone named Emily Monax.”
“Erica knew all of this?” I can’t believe she didn’t come with me.
“No, Blake. I didn’t want anyone to know before you did. Not even Erica. I only asked her if she knew the name.”
“Is there any way of finding out what happened to her?”
The Secret Under My Skin Page 20
