Aunt Perdita sits with her hands folded in her lap, watching the children as they move around the room. Even though I’m not one-hundred-percent Team Perdita, my heart squeezes at the longing in her eyes. Maybe bringing her here was a huge mistake.
The baby starts to fuss when Doc tries to take her from Letty, so he asks Letty to hold her while he looks her over. JoJo’s whimper grows into a full-out wail when Doc loosens her swaddle. Her exposed toes, so tiny and perfect, stretch and flex in the cool air.
“There, there,” Letty coos, jiggling the baby while Doc shuffles around in his bag for another instrument.
Aunt Perdita’s eyes shine. “I could try calming her down, if you want.”
“Over my dead body,” Letty snips.
Over in the corner of the room, Duke snorts.
Aunt Perdita’s gaze drops to her shoes and she frowns.
Despite Doc’s attempts to cheer her up, my aunt doesn’t say a word the whole way home. “Give them time, Perdita. You haven’t left the mansion in ages.”
“Not true,” I say quietly.
Doc raises his white eyebrows, “What was that, Lucy?”
“Oh, you didn’t know?” I keep my voice light and innocent, though my inner voice is the complete opposite. “She likes to visit Oliver’s rose garden.”
From Doc’s other side, Aunt Perdita shoots me a dark look.
Doc’s steps stutter. “I see. Why didn’t you tell me, Perdita? I thought we shared everything.”
“Of course we do. But it was just something I needed to do on my own. You understand, don’t you?”
He doesn’t answer her for a long time, his hand stroking his beard as he considers this new development.
“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” she says. “It was just a promise I needed to keep. I didn’t want to bother you with my silly errand.”
My ears pluck out the word promise. A promise to whom?
Doc stops in the middle of the street. “I need some time to myself,” he says.
Aunt Perdita squares her jaw, but I don’t miss the catch in her voice when she asks, “Will I see you tonight?”
He sighs, his broad shoulders drooping with the weight of this revelation. “Of course. There’s no one else I’d rather be with at the end.”
“Good. See you soon, Bart.”
I mouth his name to myself, amused at how odd Doc Blevins looks as a Bart.
Doc grunts and trudges away. Aunt Perdita watches him until he’s out of sight, then lets out a long breath.
A grin spreads across my face as I realize she might really care for him, too. I could chalk up her reaction as an unavoidable side effect of him getting up-close-and-personal with her internal organs night after night, but maybe that’s wrong. Maybe she really does care for him. After sharing a house with her, it’s hard to imagine Aunt Perdita caring for anyone but herself. She’s actually kind of nice to Doc, which is practically love in her book.
Not that I’m an expert, but if I loved someone, I wouldn’t just let him walk away like that. I know too well that sometimes people leave and don’t come back. If you love someone, you’ve got to fight for them, even if it means you might lose everything.
Mitte is a nightmare I can’t seem to wake up from, but there are good parts of the dream, too. Oliver. Maggie. Duke. If I said I loved them, it wouldn’t be a complete lie. Listening to my parents die next to me in that car was unbearable. I would go insane if I had to do it day after day.
Forcing those kids to stay here is out of the question. But do I love them enough to put myself in danger?
Chapter 24
If Oliver catches me out after dark I know he’ll kill me himself, or at least give me a stern talking-to, so I make sure he’s preoccupied with his own death before I sneak outside the mansion tonight.
I do my best to dress to blend into the shadows, wearing the darkest clothing I can find. It’s a long way to the orphanage, and the odds of being caught by a Conductor are greater than not. But I know that if I keep crawling into my bed each night without giving any thought to Magnolia, Duke, Tessa, or little JoJo, I’m not a very nice person, and I deserve whatever The Conductors have in store for me.
The last time I crossed paths with the demonic creatures, the air had been thick with smoke and something in the deepest stages of decay. I cross my fingers, hoping they’re still as foul so there will be enough time for me to get into hiding without getting caught.
The street is still and quiet, and I hate how loud even my most careful footsteps ring out like gunfire against the pavement. If I keep making this much noise, I won’t stand a chance. I suck in a silent breath and release my body, praying that all the joints and muscles will remember how to be fast. My first dozen strides are stiff and uncoordinated, my hip clunking in protest. Fear spikes within me. I’m going to be caught and sent directly to Hades—do not pass go, do not collect two-hundred dollars. And I wouldn’t get a chance to say goodbye to Oliver.
No, I won’t let that happen! Curling my bottom lip between my teeth, I push forward. My body continues to struggle for a few steps until it’s as if a switch is thrown and I shoot forward into the night.
The houses flash by on either side and I have a hard time picking out which house is which, as they all look alike in the eerie glow of the straggling streetlights. Another surge of panic claws at me. What if I can’t find the orphanage? Or, what if I find it and they’re not there? Then all of this will have been for nothing. I’ll be banished and the best shot my friends have will have been wasted. My stomach twists and turns the more I think about it.
That’s when I smell it. Smoke. The Conductors. I dart behind a tree alongside the edge of the road, and then behind a thick row of hedges in someone’s yard. My eyes scan the darkness for the fiery forms of the ones I fear the most, but I don’t see anything. The neighborhood remains peaceful, and I allow myself to breathe in and out. The scent hangs thicker in the air here, burning my throat as it reaches my lungs. I try not to cough, but I can’t stop it.
I cover my mouth with both of my hands to mute a hacking cough without much success. The fire burns close now, the streetlights almost completely hidden behind a cloud of ash. I should be more concerned about the demonic task force, but as soon as my eyes adjust to the curtain of fog and I can straighten up without coughing, I freeze in stunned silence.
Before me, flames consume the orphanage. In one of the second-story windows, a child—I can’t tell who because their flesh is impossibly blackened—pounds against one of the windows with a lamp base until the glass shatters. The fire leaps through the broken pane, feeding off the improved oxygen flow. The little body doesn’t move into view again, and I can’t bear to think about any of the reasons why.
The front door bursts open, and Letty runs out, her long braid and the back of her bathrobe on fire. “Duke!” Her shriek turns the blood in my veins to ice. “DUKE! WHERE ARE THEY?”
Duke, who had followed her out of the door, half of his face blistered beyond recognition, dashes back in the house without thinking twice to find the girls, who haven’t yet made it out. Letty yells for him, trying to stop him, to let her go back in on her own, but it’s too late. The boy, the hero, has already dived back into the unbearable heat. She rushes after him, the flames licking at her body, tasting before the inevitable feast.
I watch in horrified silence from behind an old maple tree as Letty joins the others in the engulfed building. Minutes pass as the house continues to burn until it collapses upon itself, crushing any hope of survival for my friends. I curl up at the foot of the big tree and mourn the five souls who have no choice but to burn away to nothing each night. My tears soak into the soil until I’m not sure there are any left to fall. Oliver had been right, once again. This is one mystery I wish I’d never tried to solve.
I don’t sleep the rest of that night, haunted by the ghosts of the child breaking through the glass only to surrender to the flames, the fearless boy who’d given his life to
try to bring the others to safety, and the woman who realized what she’d done far too late. I know now why Letty is so frantic for my help. She can’t bear to relive Duke running back into that house again only to lose each and every one of them.
I can’t change the fire. The fire will happen night after night. And I can’t keep them from dying, a very helpless realization to come to. If I can’t stop it from happening by preventing the actual act, maybe I can figure out how to help my friends to let go of whatever holds them here. To save them, they need to move from this world and into the next.
Oliver knocks on my door just after dawn and looks surprised to see me sitting upright, my eyes puffy and red from the night’s sorrow.
“What’s wrong?” He wraps me in his arms like I’m a baby. A baby. The idea of Johanna wasting away in the fire makes my stomach lurch. I push against him to free myself so I can reach the toilet before I get sick all over the bed.
“I saw—” I gasp, raising my head from the bowl after vomiting. Wearily, I lay my cheek against my arm resting on the toilet seat. “I saw them.”
Oliver eyebrows furrow as he studies me from the bathroom doorway. “Saw who?” He crosses the room and crouches next to me. He brings his hand up to gently stroke my forehead, but his fingertips stutter over the edge of my scar. I flinch and he pulls back.
“The orphans. Letty. They all died. The fire. Oh, God.” Just thinking of the fire causes my stomach to clench again, but I manage not to hurl.
Oliver pinches the bridge of his nose, clearly irritated with my careless choice. “Lucy—”
“I had to know,” I cry, begging him to understand. “I could keep going like we are, day after day, forever probably.”
He doesn’t hesitate, “So could I. I haven’t been this happy in . . . Well, I haven’t ever been this happy.” A flush of color creeps into his cheeks
His words take me by surprise, especially in my current situation. My face heats up, and I push myself to my feet to try to distract both of us.
“But you still die.”
“Dying is nothing compared to . . .” His voice trails off.
I glance at him, waiting for the rest of his statement. “Compared to?”
His mouth hangs open, tongue resting against his teeth in contemplation. Light flickers in the depths of his eyes, and he finally says, “Forget I mentioned it.”
I resist the urge to throw one of my nearby slippers at his head, choosing instead to cover my face with my hands and let out a frustrated scream instead. “I hate when you do that.”
Oliver smirks at my tantrum, but quickly wipes the smile from his face. “Sorry, I don’t want to keep things from you, swear. I’m only trying to protect you from seeing or hearing things you won’t be able to unsee.”
“I’m stronger than you think,” I protest.
“Tell you what—visit Sal’s Diner after dark and tell me how strong you are then. I’ll give you a hint—Sal didn’t play real nice with the mob and they made creative use of the meat grinder in the back.”
My face blanches and my stomach rolls again. “Okay, okay. I get it.”
“You are strong,” he finally admits.
“But I’m so afraid I won’t be able to help everyone.” I turn my back and collapse against the wall.
“No one expects you to, Luce. There are way too many of us, more than you could imagine.” He points out. “And, to be honest, you wouldn’t want to help us all. Not every regret can be solved with good, and not everyone here will go to a better place.”
But what if I can’t even help the few who need me the most?
As it turns out, I’m not given much choice in the matter. Helping others just happens, whether I want it to or not.
Shortly after I dress and walk out the front door, Duke strolls up the driveway with Tessa and Magnolia tagging behind. We’d been just about to climb onto Jasper and ride away for the day when Norman asks Oliver for his help moving one of the big planters up near the road. Magnolia and Tessa run up to me and take turns giving me a hug.
“Hi, girls,” I beam as I reach down to squeeze their shoulders with each hand. “What are you up to?”
“Duke said we could come play.” Maggie’s bright blue eyes dart back to Duke. “Can we play here?”
I shake my head. “Sorry, not today. Oliver and I were just about to go out for a ride.”
Tessa’s eyes light up, and she opens her mouth to speak, but Maggie beats her to it. “Can we ride the horsie? Pleasepleaseplease?”
Laughing, I point toward Oliver. “You’ll have to ask him. Jasper belongs to him.”
The girls run off and return wearing gigantic grins, which gives me my answer.
Jasper is a perfect gentleman, plodding in his slowest gear as I lead him around the lawn with Magnolia. The little blonde’s feet don’t come within a mile of the stirrups and all she can do is sit there with her tiny hands wrapped around the saddle horn, but it doesn’t matter. She’s having fun.
When it’s time for Tessa to ride, I help her into the saddle and tell her to hang on tight.
“Ready?” Over my shoulder, I glance at her.
The girl nods, her face bright with complete and utter joy. I cluck to Jasper and he begins to follow alongside me at an achingly slow pace.
We’d made a few circles around the yard when Oliver interrupts me. “Uh, Luce?”
“Yeah?”
“Take a look behind you, would ya?”
I turn my head to check out what he wants me to see—Jasper’s empty saddle.
Duke watches with open mouth until he snaps back to reality and grabs Magnolia by the shoulder. Before I can say anything, they’re halfway down the street.
“Oops.” My emotions battle themselves. I can’t decide whether I’m happy or sad for Tessa’s passing . . . or a little of both.
“It’s okay,” Oliver says, placing his hand on my waist. “And not every regret is all that earth-shattering.”
“But—riding a horse?”
He shrugs. “She was a little girl, after all. It’s not world peace or anything, but I’m sure it felt big to her.”
Near the edge of the road, Norman continues to fuss with the newly-relocated planter, but there are only so many times someone could adjust the thing before, obviously, they’re faking it. He’s scared of me again.
Tessa’s passing hits me harder than I expect it to. She had been a quiet kid, and I’m not sure she actually even liked me, but I still can’t believe she’s gone. And she’s gone because of me. If this is truly why I’m supposed to be here, I wish it could be a whole heck of a lot less dramatic.
“Why don’t you take Jasper out for a ride? Might do you a little good.” Oliver offers me Jasper’s reins.
“What? You’re not going with me?”
“Nah. I can see you need some time alone. Besides, Jasper’s a pretty good listener.” Oliver covers Jasper’s ear with his hands and whispers, “He’s not good at keeping secrets, though.”
I study his face to see if he’s kidding around. After a second, he unleashes that crooked grin of his.
I hop on my right foot and, on the count of three, he uses my momentum to help me into the saddle. His fingers trace lightly down the outside of my knee, trailing sparks in their wake. I shiver at the sensation, and pull the horse away from his master. Today I feel raw and vulnerable all over again, and I don’t know if I can keep myself from completely falling for Oliver.
Though I don’t feel like going anywhere or doing anything, it feels good up there on Jasper’s back. Lucy from not that long ago would have looked at me like I’d lost it. There was something comforting about the horse’s swinging motion and his puffs of breath breaking up the silence around us. We wander around the edge of town, still wary of what the others might do if they found me without Oliver at my side. Jasper’s easy clip-clop lulls me, clearing my mind of my worries—past and present. I can’t really worry about the future because, as far as I know, I really don’t have one.
We plod along without a destination until one appears on its own. Ahead of us stretches a solid wall of green: The Divide. Off to the right I pick out a shadowy mass in between the trees that line the roadway. An upright slab of grey stone looms ahead, etched with symbols I hadn’t been able to make out from inside Bud’s taxi. Jasper would never let me get that close to the boundary, his ears already swiveling around madly like weathervanes in the middle of a tornado.
“Easy, boy,” I coo, patting his neck and sliding down to the ground. Dismounting isn’t a skill I’ve mastered yet, and I hit the ground harder than anticipated, toppling backwards onto my butt. Jasper snorts, obviously amused by my excellent horsemanship.
I loop his reins over a low-hanging branch of a nearby pine, then hike alone until I glimpse the lonely ribbon of pavement ahead. I look one way first, and then the other, making sure Jasper and I are the only ones out here before I step out from the cover of the forest. With no one else in sight, I make my way along the side of the road until the statue stands just ahead. The hair on my arms prickles. Being this close to The Divide makes me nervous, but I can’t turn back now. From within the trees, Jasper whinnies to let me know he’s nervous, too.
No, he isn’t nervous. He’s sending me a warning. Beneath my feet, the ground vibrates. It’s faint, but still there. I don’t have much time.
I return my focus to the task at hand. In order to make out all of the scrawling on the monument, I’ll have to circle around to the far side of the monument, straying further into the danger zone. Oliver would die—again—if he knew what I was doing, but I can’t quit now.
Stretching across every inch of the weathered stone are names—thousands of them. I have to squint, but I manage to make sense of a few sets of names and numbers:
Emily Ann Scarborough
3-14-1837 – 12-9-1849
Andrew Charles Anderson
1-4-1922 – 6-19-2016
Salvatore Giordano
In the Middle Page 16
