“Me too. How did she manage with just the two of you on the streets?”
“She was a master thief.” Even now, I can’t keep the admiration from my voice. “We had the protection of a Tribe because she stole for them. Anything she needed, she could steal.”
“And when she needed someone to love, she stole you.”
I can’t speak at first. It seems so obvious. “And I’m supposed to be the clever one,” I finally say. “She built her whole life around me. She was only a child but she was such a good mother.” We say nothing for a long time. When I look up, Violet is standing in front of me with pieces of a broken toy. “Blay fix it,” she says, and she plops down into my lap.
I stroke her hair and rock her. “I wish I could.”
“I don’t know,” Fraser says. “She’s talking now and she doesn’t scream when you touch her. I’d say you have.”
“Maybe. But, Fraser, will there ever be a time when there are no kids like Violet? Or kids like Hilary who need love so badly that they have to steal it? Will there ever be a time when kids get all the love they need?”
Fraser looks at me for a long time, his warm brown eyes steady. Then he looks away. “If I have anything to do with it, there will be.” And that’s when I know that nothing in St. Pearl will keep me from coming back to him.
The next afternoon is cloudy and chilly but it seems everyone in Kildevil is climbing to the crest of the hill. Erica makes me wait until the children from the Grand Hotel have gone, too. I’m bursting to know why. “What’s happening?”
“Never mind,” she says. “Put on something warm and let’s go see.”
I rush upstairs and open my drawer. There, beside my Object, is the sweater Fraser made for me. I take it out and put it on. When Erica notices, she says nothing. But William says, “I hope you’re not going to be like Marrella now.”
“Have I ever?” I ask, and he laughs.
It’s a long, long climb to the crest of the hill. I haven’t been here since the day of the first test. The place is thronged with people now, but when I look back the way we came, the hills are still flung out before us like the cloths of heaven.
When Fraser sees his sweater he blushes. “Do you mind?” I ask him.
“Mind? I figured you’d find some fellow in St. Pearl who reads as well as you and that’d be the end of me.”
“Fraser, I’m taking this sweater with me. Not only that, it’s a bit tight now. You’d better make me another.”
He smiles. “I’ll make you a whole closetful. You’ll never have to wear anything else. But come with me now, you’re needed.”
Lem is organizing people into groups around something wrapped in a huge piece of canvas. “Over here,” Fraser says, “take hold.” He places me in line along a piece of rope.
“What’s going on?”
“Lem had us up the ski slope, slaving away on this for months. But he wants to tell you himself. Here he comes.” Beyond Lem, I see Marrella and Carson. Carson moves slowly but his artificial limb works well. Marrella smiles when she sees me. Fine blonde down covers her head.
I wave to them and turn to Lem. “What is this?”
“The kids at the hotel told me about Memory Day, Blake.”
I swallow hard. “They did?”
“Yeah. It’s time for a new Memory Day. So we can remember what really happened. I wanted to get your mother and Michelle and all the others who died out of the Archive of the Lost and up here, where the world is beautiful. I want them to hear the songs.” He raises his voice. “Everyone ready?” A chorus replies and he points to us. “When I count to three, pull as hard as you can. The rest of you hold your lines and stand by.”
We pull while others push the great canvas lump from below, and it begins to rise. Finally, it settles with an earsplitting screech into the waiting base. Lem brings me forward. “Pull this,” he says. I do and the canvas flutters to the ground. Before us is a huge aeolian harp, made from the rusting towers of Ski Slope. Hundreds and hundreds of names have been etched onto the beams, overlapping until they form a web, like lichen on rock. As the beams rust and weather the names may disappear but we’ll know they were there.
The harp stands solid and proud against the sky. A strong spring breeze blows and it vibrates with a song of renewal, with the voice of hope. I close my eyes and wish. I wish that somehow, Michelle and my mother, even Hilary, will hear the song and know it is for them.
Also by Janet McNaughton
TO DANCE AT THE PALAIS ROYALE
AN EARTHLY KNIGHT
DRAGON SEER
DRAGON SEER’S GIFT
THE RAINTREE REBELLION
About the Author
JANET McNAUGHTON is the multi-award-winning author of many books, including The Secret Under My Skin, An Earthly Knight and her most recent novel, Dragon Seer, which was shortlisted for the prestigious TD Canadian Children’s Literature Award, as well as both the CLA Young Adult Book Award and the Book of the Year for Children Award. McNaughton lives in St. John’s, Newfoundland, with her family. Visit her online at www.janetmcnaughton.ca.
Copyright
The Secret Under My Skin
Copyright © 2001 by Janet McNaughton.
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Published by HarperCollins Publishers Ltd
First Canadian Edition
EPub Edition: June 2017 EPub ISBN: 9781443453004
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