The Peculiar Miracles of Antoinette Martin

by Stephanie Knipper

  Antoinette crossed over to Cora and took her hand.

  Before they left, Cora narrowed her eyes at Lily. “Your mom and dad would be proud of you for coming home. Don’t disappoint them.” Without another word, she guided Antoinette through green double doors that led to the kitchen.

  Lily was mute for several long seconds. When she found her voice, she said, “Will Antoinette be okay?” She was surprised by how protective she felt of her niece.

  Rose threaded her way through the maze of booths and oak tables with ladder back chairs. “Cora’s good with her. Besides, she’s probably got chocolate back there. Antoinette will do anything for chocolate.”

  Waitresses dressed in black and white circled through the room, polishing empty tables and folding napkins. The clink of silverware and plates echoed through the room.

  “Eccentric place,” Will said, taking in the decor.

  Rose picked a booth against the far wall and slid in.

  Lily sat across from Rose with Will next to her. He leaned down and whispered to her. “It’s like a date.”

  Lily elbowed him. He was so thin, she connected with his ribs more forcefully than she meant to, and he winced.

  “You did a good job,” Lily said to Rose. “I would have never thought to put all of this together.” Separately, the purple, red, and green seemed too strong to ever stand together. Instead, it reminded Lily of the wildflowers in the field behind the farm—beautiful in an unexpected way.

  The door to the back room opened and a waitress came in, arms loaded with boxes of flowers. Lily had wondered at Rose’s choices when she had picked them: blue irises, green and white hydrangea puffs from the greenhouse, and bright purple hyacinths. As she looked around the dining room, the flowers made sense.

  For the first time since arriving home, Lily felt at peace. She leaned into Will, grateful he was there.

  There was a bang and a clatter of metal from the kitchen. Rose winced. “Antoinette.”

  They all turned toward the kitchen, just in time to see Antoinette wobble through the doors. Cora followed, a bright red splat across her white apron.

  “Oh Cora,” Rose said. “I’m sorry.”

  Cora held up her hand. “It wasn’t her fault. The staff knows better than to leave a pan of Bolognese sauce on the counter where she can grab it.”

  Antoinette swiveled her face toward Rose and raised her hands.

  Lily added another word to her growing lexicon of Antoinette- speak. Raised hands equals up!

  Rose lifted Antoinette across her lap. The little girl wiggled against the cushions, rocking the booth with her motion.

  “Seth finished unloading the flowers,” Cora said. “Now he’s helping me with a load of fresh tomatoes.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “I’m going to check on him, and then I’ve got something special for you. Antoinette’s already tried it, haven’t you?” Cora tried to catch Antoinette’s eyes, but Antoinette looked away. “Maybe next time,” she said, walking away.

  Rose shifted. “Switch seats with me for a minute? I’ve got to use the restroom.”

  As Lily took Rose’s place, Antoinette whimpered. She stretched across Lily toward Rose. If Antoinette was a flower, Lily thought, she would be lavender heather: loneliness.

  Lily ran her fingers through Antoinette’s hair. “She’ll be back. I promise.” When she looked up, Will was staring at her.

  “You’re different here,” he said. “Looser. More relaxed.” This was Will the doctor speaking. Thoughtful, observant—with anyone else she would have felt uncomfortable.

  Antoinette slapped her hands against the wall. Lily touched her shoulder to steady her. There were only a few families in the dining room. No one seemed to notice Antoinette’s agitation.

  “Some people just fit places. You fit here.” His smile was bittersweet. “I wish I had known you when you were growing up.”

  Lily laughed. “No, you don’t. I was the strange kid everyone avoided.”

  “I wouldn’t have avoided you.”

  Lily knew he probably believed that, but everyone had avoided her when she was younger, everyone except Rose and Seth.

  Rose returned before Lily could respond. She was grateful for the interruption; her feelings for Will were complicated.

  “Diuretics,” Rose said with a shrug. “I can’t stay out of the bathroom for long.” The bathroom was only a short walk away, but Rose was winded from the effort.

  Antoinette shrieked.

  “See, I told you she’d be back,” Lily said as she slid out of the booth and tried to stand up. When she did, her feet tangled with Rose’s and she fell. As she went down, she flung out her left hand.

  She felt it snap when she landed.

  Pain shot through her hand and up her arm. She curled her body into a ball, her hand cradled in her lap. The last two fingers on her left hand were bent backward.

  “Lily!” Will knelt beside her.

  “Are you okay?” Rose crouched on Lily’s other side. “Your hand. I think it’s broken.”

  Rose and Will hovered over Lily, shielding her from the view of others in the room, for which she was grateful. She felt light-headed. She sat up and put her head between her knees. There was a soft scuffle to her right. Then she felt a little hand on her shoulder.

  “I’m okay,” she said through the haze of pain. She looked at her hand. Her last two fingers were fixed at a ninety-degree angle against the back of her hand.

  “I’m going to be sick,” she whispered.

  The little hand she felt on her shoulder inched down her arm to her hand. At the touch, electricity sparked through Lily’s skin. She cried out and arched her back.

  Antoinette was next to her, eyes closed, humming an odd little song.

  “Antoinette, no!” Rose yelled, but it was too late.

  The spark of pain fanned into a blaze.

  Lily groaned as her bones repositioned themselves under her skin.

  “Holy shit!” Will said.

  Lily’s hand burned until she couldn’t stand it anymore.

  Then, just as suddenly, the pain stopped. She opened her eyes, and when she looked down she gasped.

  Her hand was perfectly whole.

  “Lils, your hand.” Will’s blue eyes were wide.

  Lily curled her fingers into a fist. “It doesn’t hurt.”

  He grabbed her hand and turned it over. “It was broken. I saw it.” He traced the bones from the tips of her fingers to the base of her hand.

  “No,” Rose said. She caught Lily’s eye and slowly shook her head. Don’t tell, she mouthed.

  “It couldn’t have been broken.” Rose leaned forward, shielding her daughter. “I don’t think anyone else saw,” she whispered to Lily.

  Antoinette moaned. Then her eyes rolled back, and she began to shake.

  “She’s seizing,” Will said, taking charge. “Get her on her side.”

  A statistic popped into Lily’s mind: two percent of people with epilepsy died suddenly from seizures. Quickly, she rolled Antoinette over.

  Will grabbed a penlight from his shirt pocket, lifted Antoinette’s eyelids, and shined the light in her eyes. “Does she seize like this often?”

  “Yes,” Lily said, without thinking. “She seizes after . . .” She stopped as she looked down at her hand.

  Will followed her gaze. “I saw it. She touched your hand and the bones moved.” His voice shook. “The bones moved! What the hell is going on?”

  “Don’t be silly,” Lily said. “You’re seeing things.” She faked a laugh.

  “Antoinette!” Seth suddenly appeared from the kitchen. “What happened?”

  “I . . . I fell, on my hand. It’s okay now.” Lily held up her hand and flexed her fingers, horrified that healing her hand had caused Antoinette’s seizure.

  For the first time since realizing what Antoinette could do, she understood Rose. Lily would rather suffer a broken hand than watch, helpless, while Antoinette seized.

  “The seizure’s
winding down,” Will said. He tucked the penlight back in his pocket and sat back.

  “We’ve got it from here,” Seth said. He tried to take Will’s place next to Lily, but Will wouldn’t move.

  Cora appeared, her face a mask of worry. “Do you want me to call 911?”

  Rose shook her head and clenched her jaw. She glanced at Will. “She’ll be fine. She just needs some rest.”

  As Antoinette stilled, quiet conversation resumed around them. Waiters moved through the charged atmosphere setting bread and wine on tables.

  Lily looked up. Eli and MaryBeth Cantwell stood in the middle of the dining room, staring at them. A hostess had been leading them to a table. Eli’s eyes were wide in stunned amazement.

  Rose pulled Antoinette onto her lap. “She can’t keep doing this.”

  “Eli’s here,” Lily whispered. She stepped behind Rose, hoping to block his view of Antoinette. “We need to leave.”

  “I’ll carry her to the van,” Seth said.

  Rose pulled Antoinette closer to her chest. “I can’t let go,” she whispered. She wrapped her arms around Antoinette and tried to stand, but her knees buckled.

  Lily caught her elbow. “Let me help.” She slid her arms under her sister’s, and together they carried Antoinette outside.

  Chapter Nineteen

  It didn’t work. Antoinette knew.

  She lay with her head in her mother’s lap as Seth drove home. She was drowsy but not asleep. Soon she wouldn’t be able to fight the fatigue, but she wasn’t there yet.

  She had hummed along with Lily’s song, changing the notes that were wrong, but the seizure came before she could lock everything in place. Lily’s bones wiggled like teeth ready to fall out. Healings never lasted, but this one would end sooner than most.

  Antoinette twitched, her hand opening and closing on its own. Her mother smoothed her hair back from her face. The van bumped down the road, and Antoinette’s eyes became heavier. The thought came again as she fell asleep.

  It didn’t work.

  Chapter Twenty

  Lily stared out the window as she and Will drove back to Eden Farms. Cherry blossoms decorated the trees along the road, but she didn’t notice. She also didn’t count. Furthermore, she didn’t care that failure to wear a seat belt accounted for 51 percent of deaths in auto accidents, and Will was not wearing his.

  Instead, she examined her hand, turning it over, looking for a clue that would explain how Antoinette fixed things. But there was nothing. Just her hand, perfectly whole. Her fingers bending. Her skin unbruised.

  And yet, something wasn’t right. She felt a small catch in her last two fingers. She curled her hand into a fist. As she straightened it, something shifted. Her bones felt loose. There was a sharp pinprick at the base of her little finger.

  She dropped her hand and looked out the front window at the rear of Seth’s truck, Rose and Antoinette riding with him. Will hummed distractedly and tapped the steering wheel. Lily stole a glance at him. He looked at home driving the Eden Farms’ van. His black hair was slicked back making his face seem thinner and his cheekbones sharper.

  Had he been this skinny back in Covington? she wondered.

  “You keep doing that,” he said, glancing at her hand and the way she was flexing her fingers. “How does it feel?”

  He reached for her hand, but Lily pulled away. Everything felt fragile. “It’s fine.” She stretched her fingers as far apart as they could go. There it was again. A small needle prick. This time, she felt it in both fingers.

  An image of Antoinette’s head hitting the floor flared in her mind. It was one thing to be in pain yourself; it was quite another to cause someone else pain.

  “I know what I saw,” Will said. “I don’t care what you say, your fingers were bent completely back. Then Antoinette touched you, and your bones moved. They moved, Lils.”

  She straightened her fingers again. “Do you hear yourself? What you’re suggesting is impossible.”

  “The universe contains wonders,” he said. “You can’t be a doctor and not know that.”

  They were almost at the farm, but he pulled over on the shoulder of the road. “Talk to me,” he said. “I was there. I saw what she did. I need to understand.”

  “I need to get home and help Rose.” Lily’s stomach twisted.

  “Seth will help her. I’m not moving the van until you tell me what’s going on.”

  Lily covered her left hand with her right. “She’s a little girl. Nothing’s going on.”

  Will stared at her intently, as if willing her to speak. When she didn’t, he closed his eyes and dropped his head back against the seat. “I’d like to believe there’s something beyond this,” he said. “That the death of the body isn’t the death of the soul.”

  “When did you become a philosopher?” Lily tried to laugh, but the sound stuck in her throat. She wanted to believe her parents existed somewhere, believe that after Rose died she and her sister would find each other again.

  He coughed slightly, then opened his eyes. “I’ve been rethinking my life. Time to grow up, I guess. Does Antoinette often seize like that?”

  Lily pressed her lips together and nodded. She knew Will. He hadn’t given up trying to find out about Antoinette’s ability; he had just switched to a different puzzle.

  “There has to be a way to stop the seizures,” he said as he pulled the van back onto the road and drove to the house.

  “How?” Lily asked.

  “I don’t know yet,” he admitted.

  In the driveway now, they watched as Seth lifted Antoinette from the backseat of his truck. Her skin seemed almost translucent. Then Rose climbed out of the truck. She walked slowly, as if each step was a struggle. Seth caught her arm, and she leaned into him.

  “I’ll figure it out,” Will said as he got out and jogged toward them.

  Lily counted to ten before following.

  “Lily told me what Antoinette can do,” Will was saying as Seth helped Rose up the porch steps. “It’s amazing.”

  Seth glared at him. He had his hands full, Antoinette in one arm and Rose on the other. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Lily ran up the porch steps, only a few paces behind Will. “I didn’t—” she said.

  “Of course you didn’t,” Seth said.

  Despite herself, Lily felt a warm rush at his words. Seth had always believed the best of her.

  Rose stopped on the top step and grabbed Will’s arm. “You can’t tell anyone. I mean it.” She shook him a little.

  Will pulled free and raised his right hand. “The Hippocratic oath: first do no harm. I promise. I don’t want any harm to come to Antoinette.”

  “I didn’t say anything,” Lily said. She needed Rose to believe her.

  Rose sighed and closed her eyes. “It doesn’t matter. He saw the whole thing.” She studied Will for a moment before seeming to come to a decision. “Healing triggers seizures, and the seizures are getting worse. If word gets out about what she can do, I won’t be able to keep her safe.”

  “What about Eli?” Lily asked. “I tried to block his view of what was happening, but I think he saw Antoinette fix my hand.” There was no use hiding anything from Will now.

  Rose looked worn as she opened the kitchen door. “Then we have to keep him and MaryBeth away from Antoinette.”

  When Rose went inside, Lily turned to Seth. “You saw Eli. Do you think he’ll leave Antoinette alone?”

  The little girl let out a contented sigh. She looked so small nestled in Seth’s arms. He frowned, his eyes dark. “No,” he said, as he followed Rose into the house. “I don’t.”

  LILY AND WILL walked to the drying barn. “What she can do is amazing,” he said. “Why didn’t you tell me about her?”

  “Would you have believed me?” Lily said, noting with irony that both Seth and Rose had asked her the same question.

  Will ran his hand over hers. He pressed along her fingers, feeling each joint, then gentl
y bending her wrist back and forth. “Is the size of the seizure related to anything? The difficulty of the healing, maybe?”

  “Rose said the seizures aren’t as bad when Antoinette does something like bring wilted flowers back to life.” She flinched when Will bent her little finger. “Another thing: the healings don’t last.”

  He frowned. “I can see that. She does this with flowers too?”

  Lily pointed to a semicircle of dead pansies to the left of the barn entrance. “A few days ago, they were as brown as they are now. Then Antoinette touched them, hummed, and they turned bright yellow. That was the first time I saw her fix anything.”

  “Something must be taxing her system.” Will frowned. “This isn’t safe for her. The risk of brain damage grows as her seizures increase. You’ll have to monitor her, Lils. She can’t keep this up. Meanwhile, we need to get you to the ER. You need an x-ray of that hand.”

  Lily promised to go tomorrow. Then she knelt and started pulling out the dead pansies. Rose didn’t need a tangible reminder that Antoinette was getting worse. It wasn’t long before she had a pile of uprooted flowers by her feet. When she finished, she sat down and leaned against the barn.

  “Do you ever feel like you have absolutely no idea what you’re doing?” she asked. In less than a week, everything she believed about the world had changed. A black ant crawled up the side of the barn, making its way along the splintered wood. She traced its progress, wondering whether it knew where it was going.

  Will crossed his arms. The late-afternoon sunlight slanted across his face, but it didn’t warm his skin. He looked tired. “Truthfully, no,” he said. “But I have heard that others sometimes feel that way. For me the question isn’t whether I know what I’m doing, but whether I’m making the best decision I can at the time. Nothing’s perfect, Lils. No matter how much we want it to be.” He smiled sadly.

  He bent down to pick a yellow viola that sprouted through a crack in the stone path, and he handed the flower to Lily. “I always wonder how something so fragile can survive in such a rough place. But you see it all the time don’t you?”