Unthinkable

by Nancy Werlin

  One day Fenella asked to help with cooking, and Lucy took her into the kitchen. There, cautiously, following Lucy’s instructions, Fenella turned the dial that ignited the front left-hand burner on the stove.

  She recoiled instinctively as a blue flame burst into being.

  “So, there’s a pipe that feeds gas into the house,” Lucy explained. “When you turn the dial for one of the burners, the gas is released into the stove and it ignites to become fire for cooking.” Confidently, Lucy twisted the dial, explaining more while Fenella listened closely.

  “Gas?” she asked. “This blue fire runs on the same fuel as a car?”

  Lucy shook her head. “No. The gas for a car is liquid. Gasoline, it’s called. Actually, some cars use other fuels, alternative fuels—”

  “What? Why?”

  “Well, gasoline is derived from a natural resource called oil that’s running out. So there are experiments with using electricity, and hydrogen, and, I don’t know. Other stuff. But anyway, the house is heated with another kind of gas. Natural gas.”

  Fenella listened intently.

  “Natural gas is, uh, it’s a gas. Like air. It’s invisible. You can set it on fire and it burns, and then you cook with it. You turn it off when you’re done.”

  “It’s not invisible.” Fenella pointed at the stove. “It’s blue.”

  Lucy pursed her lips. “Okay. Yeah. The gas fire is blue after it’s ignited. I don’t really know why.”

  “But—”

  “Fenella? I know how to turn on the stove and cook on it. Period. Wait—gas has a smell, even when it’s invisible.” Lucy sniffed, her brow furrowing. “It’s sort of metallic. Can you smell it?”

  Fenella nodded.

  “I could maybe explain it better if I’d paid closer attention at school. In science classes.” Lucy twisted the stove knob and the blue flames flickered lower and died. “But I didn’t.” She turned away. “Let’s start cooking, okay? But first I need that big pot.”

  Fenella stared at the empty burner. There was nothing to show a fire had been burning there a second ago. No ashes. No smoke. But it wasn’t magic. It was a fuel from the earth, put to use via principles of science. Not unlike the way the old watermill wheel had worked, churning power out of the river, back when Fenella was a child. Fenella reached out—

  Lucy was beside her, grabbing her wrist. “Don’t! It’s hot still!”

  Fenella froze.

  Lucy let go. “Sorry. You wouldn’t touch a wood fire that you’d just put out, either. It’s the same. A gas fire is dangerous—in the ordinary way—like an ordinary fire.”

  Irrationally, Fenella felt like she wanted to touch the burner even more now. Would her flesh burn if she did? Yes, of course, but then she would heal, as she had healed from the knife in Faerie. Why, this whole house could go up in flames, with everyone in it, and still Fenella would survive. She sighed.

  Then her stomach did a nasty little flip.

  “Explain to me again how it works?” said Fenella, urgently. “All the details?”

  Lucy shook her head. “Tell you what, Dad can show you the apparatus in the basement. There’re pipes and a boiler and, well, I don’t actually know what’s down there, but it’s a mechanical system. Also, we have a book somewhere that explains everything.”

  “A book? Oh, good.” Consulting a book always made Fenella feel closer to Minnie. Also, she liked the sound of the words mechanical system.

  “Yes. It doesn’t only explain gas heating systems. It explains how every kind of system works, including cars. And there are pictures.”

  “I’d love to read that book,” said Fenella sincerely.

  “I should have thought of it before.” Lucy paused. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Fenella, but you remind me of Dawn. We need to be careful with you too. Accidents could happen, simply because you don’t know what to be afraid of.”

  Fenella felt Ryland at her feet. He twined around her ankles.

  “But I’m not a child,” Fenella said steadily. “Don’t worry, Lucy. I’ll be careful. I’ll make sure I know exactly what I’m doing.”

  Chapter 13

  Fenella bided her time, holding her idea closely to herself, not even confiding in Ryland. “When I’m ready,” she told him brusquely. She explained to the cat that she needed to fit into the household and be above suspicion, so that, on the other side of the first task, she would still be a welcome member of the family. “I’ll be more prepared for the next tasks, whatever they are, if I first take the time to understand my family.”

  So long as you let me help with planning before you do anything. If you don’t let me advise you, you could make a bad mistake.

  “Of course,” Fenella said.

  Don’t forget that we only have three months. Seven days are already gone.

  “I haven’t forgotten. Don’t worry. I’ve got this.” It was a phrase she had recently learned from Zach.

  Fenella’s idea excited her. If she did it right, she would fully meet the requirements of the first task. She would destroy her family’s safety, but nobody would be hurt.

  She read the book Lucy gave her and felt her excitement grow. The book was called The Way Things Work, and the only problem was that it was so full of fascinating information that she found herself distracted from gas heating systems. One beautiful October morning she took the book out to the driveway, opened the hood of the family car, and identified all the parts of its engine.

  She also learned what she needed to know about the gas heating system. She listened intently when Leo, as promised, took her to the basement to explain the intricacies of furnaces. “Does that make sense?” he asked when he’d finished.

  Her eyes on the metal box that encased the central workings of the heating system, Fenella nodded.

  “But you have a question.”

  “Not a question.” Fenella shrugged. She couldn’t explain her sudden urge. “May I touch it?”

  “The furnace casing? Sure.”

  Fenella put both hands flat against the metal box. Then she stepped closer and impulsively laid her cheek against it as well. She was going to betray the machine, she thought. Betray its desire to do its job properly. She was conscious of Leo watching her. She tried to smile at him.

  She knew she ought to step away from the furnace. She knew her behavior was strange, even for her. But she couldn’t make herself move. I’m sorry, she thought to the machine, and then she had to squeeze her eyes shut tight.

  When she opened them, she startled. Leo was right beside her, inches away, facing her, mirroring her, with both his hands and his cheek also on the furnace casing.

  He held her eyes.

  He said, “It’s not just a machine, is it? It’s like a heart. It sings when it’s doing its job. Right now we can hear the hiss of the steam in the water tank. But this winter, when we heat the house, there’ll be other sounds. Different music.”

  Like a child asking for a bedtime story, Fenella found herself whispering, “Music?”

  “Yes. It’s music of its own kind. You’ll hear a series of clicks, when you first call for more heat. Sometimes you hear banging, as the pipes convey the gas. It’s comforting. Every time you turn up the thermostat, you hear these reassuring sounds and murmurs, bangs and clangs. They tell you, yes, the heat is coming. The warmth is coming.” Leo smiled at Fenella. “You’ll see. It is music.”

  “Oh,” said Fenella. She felt obscurely lulled—and then, the swift sure knowledge that Leo was someone she would have chosen for family was abruptly unendurable. Fenella pushed away from the furnace. Her voice came out shrill. “I’ve got to go now.”

  She fled upstairs, but she felt Leo’s compassionate gaze on her back all the way. Her stomach knotting, she presented herself to Soledad and asked to help out with cooking.

  To her relief, however, she was turned down. Soledad said firmly, “It’s too early for responsibilities, Fenella. Get accustomed to life here. It’s enough for you to tag along with M
iranda to the grocery store or the library. There’s so much new stuff for you to learn.” She waved a hand vaguely. “We’ll carry you, don’t worry. It’s what family is for. Next week we’ll have family meeting and discuss how you’re feeling.”

  “Family meeting?” Fenella was beginning to recover from the rush of sadness she’d felt in the basement.

  “We get together and talk once a month. One thing we need to talk about is how we’ll get identification for you. Zach says he has an idea, but I’m afraid to hear what it is.”

  “Why?” Fenella was curious. “What do you mean by identification?”

  “Oh, never mind. It’s just, you know, a future worry.” Soledad changed the subject. “Also, money is tight, so that’s one thing we usually discuss at family meeting. Do you understand about money?”

  “Oh, yes,” said Fenella. Nearly every Scarborough girl in history had lacked money. Minnie had described going hungry as a child; she had had to scrounge for financial help for nursing school. “Money is how you trade for the things that you need. A few people have lots of it. Most people have little.”

  “I suppose money is one of those things that never really changes.” Soledad put another piece of paper on the refrigerator. Monthly Food Budget, it said. Fenella looked without comprehension at the number at the top of the page, and then turned away.

  In general, Ryland was behaving himself, at least. Most days, he padded behind Fenella from room to room, watching and listening attentively and acting cat-like. He was adorable, as he had promised, but Fenella was privy to his thoughts, which were not adorable. He poked fun at the ragged way Leo dressed, opined that Soledad was too bossy and that Dawn was spoiled, and, moreover, if the child didn’t begin to talk soon, he would wonder about her intelligence. He also let Fenella know what his sharp ears had picked up about Lucy and Zach. She sings to him in bed. She makes up ridiculous songs about—

  “Too much information!” Fenella had picked up this useful phrase from Lucy.

  Actually, it’s not. We don’t know yet what will and won’t be useful.

  “I suppose.”

  Fenella had to admit that in the absence of the dog Pierre, Ryland was blending well into the household. He bestowed irresistibly silky ankle caresses on everyone, was praised for his neatness at the litter box, and especially endeared himself by being sweet and patient when Dawn petted him too enthusiastically. Also, though nobody but Fenella knew about it, he managed to keep away from the yarn in Soledad’s knitting basket.

  I deserve a medal. I wonder if my sister knew I was going to be beset by all the normal cat urges.

  At this, Fenella smiled despite herself. She didn’t think the cat’s obsession with yarn was entirely normal. She was grateful for his presence, though, she realized. Watching Ryland insinuate his way into the good graces of the family while she listened to his acid commentary helped her to maintain the assessing distance she badly needed.

  She could not afford to love them. She needed to be hard as stone. She needed to remember she was not one of them.

  The next evening, in the living room, something happened to help. Leo had his guitar, and Lucy was singing. Then suddenly the two of them exchanged glances, nodded at each other, and launched into a new song. It was a ballad called “Tam Lin,” and it was plain that this moment was planned.

  Fenella knew “Tam Lin.” She knew it very well indeed. Her fist clenched as Lucy sang the familiar opening, in which a young girl named Janet is warned against meddling with handsome Tam Lin.

  Of course Janet does not listen.

  Ryland was on Fenella’s lap. She felt him turning his head to stare at her as her entire body stiffened. She thought about pushing the cat away, about making an excuse and leaving the room. Leaving the song. But instead she sat, thrown back in time by the music, waiting with dread for the moment in which it would become clear to Janet that her hot new lover, Tam Lin, was the property of the faeries.

  Then she knew she could not stand to hear it.

  “Stop!” she shouted. “Stop this song right now!”

  The music ceased so abruptly that Fenella’s ears seemed to ring.

  Everyone was staring, but it was Leo who spoke. “It’s not ‘Scarborough Fair.’ It’s a different Child ballad. We thought—we hoped—that it would be all right.”

  “It’s not,” said Fenella. She turned jerkily to Miranda. “Miranda, you don’t want to hear this either, do you?”

  She was shaking. In her inner ear, the song continued inexorably, the verses spinning onward.

  Janet holding up her head before all the knights and ladies in her father’s castle and proudly declaring her pregnancy. Janet listening to Tam Lin’s precise and clear instructions for how she could use that pregnancy to save him from the faeries on All Hallows’ Night.

  Oh, yes, Fenella thought. It had all worked out fabulously for plucky, lucky Lady Janet.

  “Fenella?” It was Leo again. “Of course we’ll stop. I’m sorry. Lucy and I thought we could give the old music its place back in our lives. We used to love the Child ballads and we thought maybe we could reclaim this one at least. Let the music wash through us and heal us. But we won’t try, not if it hurts too much.”

  Lucy leaned forward. “Fenella, do you realize? ‘Tam Lin’ is so different from ‘Scarborough Fair.’ Janet outsmarts the faeries.”

  “Like you did?” Fenella snarled.

  There was a moment of shocked silence. “I didn’t mean—” Lucy began.

  Fenella cut in. “I know. I’m sorry.”

  More silence.

  “All right,” said Lucy finally.

  “Maybe another time,” Soledad said. “With another song. A different ballad.”

  “Maybe,” said Lucy.

  “Or not,” said Leo. Fenella felt him trying to catch her eye, but she didn’t want to look at him. Tension continued to fill the air.

  Then Ryland, on the floor near Fenella, made a terrible noise. The noise went on and on, drawing all eyes, until it transformed into hacking, and Ryland deposited a small hairball on the carpet.

  “That’s my signal,” Fenella said. She picked up the hairball and regarded it dubiously. “Ick. I’m going to bed now.” She escaped, throwing the hairball into the trash as she left.

  The next day, Fenella declined to go with Miranda and Dawn on their daily stroll. The moment the door shut and they were alone, Ryland came into the living room and nudged her ankles.

  About last night, he said. What’s your exact problem with that song, “Tam Lin”?

  “It’s nothing,” Fenella said. “What does it matter, anyway? It’s only music. I have other things to think about, more important things, and you know it.”

  As the words left her lips, Fenella realized that she was no longer alone with the cat. She looked up.

  “Sorry.” Walker Dobrez was in the archway of the living room, inside the front door, looking at her.

  Chapter 14

  “Is it okay that I just showed up?” Walker held a dog leash in one hand, but there was no dog on it. He was bigger than Fenella remembered. He wore jeans and a dark green T-shirt with long sleeves pushed up to reveal strong brown forearms. His long hair was gathered back neatly into a horse’s tail.

  The cat muttered something.

  “Hello.” Fenella felt her cheeks burn. How much had he heard?

  Walker’s gaze was intent on Fenella, and curious too, and also . . . well. He had that look in his eyes, the one that said he found Fenella attractive. Then the look disappeared, and Fenella was conscious that she hadn’t paid much attention when she got dressed this morning. She had pulled on a pair of baggy gray sweatpants and a tight, faded, rose-colored T-shirt that she had received from Lucy. The T-shirt said, Don’t let the pigeon drive the bus, advice that Fenella felt was sound. The modern clothing was soft and she liked how it felt on her body. She was even beginning to understand the appeal of pants for girls.

  But she probably did not look pretty. She cur
led her bare toes self-consciously on the floor. She also realized that she had not put on her new female harness. She had been told that women should not be seen in public without one on beneath their clothes. A bra, it was called, and it was considered both modest and practical to wear one.

  Why did this family run the kind of house where people felt free to wander in without knocking? It was not right!

  Walker made no mention of the conversation he had probably heard Fenella having with the cat, and he ignored Fenella’s scowl too. “I brought Pierre home. He’s in the backyard.”

  Ryland jumped down from the chair arm and stood next to Fenella, his tail low, his fur on end. No!

  Fenella sighed. Ryland was right; the dog absolutely couldn’t return. “Nobody told me Pierre was coming back today.”

  Walker looked at Ryland and then back at Fenella. “I was thinking we could try Pierre with your cat again. They’ll have to get along eventually, right? I talked to Soledad this morning and she thought it was a good idea. To try it, that is.”

  Fenella crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Soledad didn’t check with me.”

  “Well, see, I called her at work only half an hour ago.” Walker cleared his throat. “My boss gave me a few hours off, and she said you were here, so I thought I’d come on over. Uh. But I see this is too much of a surprise. Still, the thing is, Pierre’s fenced in the backyard feeling glad to be at home, and your cat is safely in the house.” He glanced again at Ryland, who was still visibly bristling. “Could I take you to lunch? There’s a place on Moody Street that has sandwiches and ice cream.” He met Fenella’s gaze.

  That look, that unmistakable look, was back on his face. Perhaps there was nothing wrong with how she was dressed after all.

  But Ryland’s voice was caustic in Fenella’s head. We do not have time for this lovesick dog in man form. Still less do we have time for the actual dog. Fenella, look this idiot straight in the eye. Say no. Then tell him to take the dog away.

  Fenella’s gaze fastened itself on the square of bare skin at the base of Walker’s throat, which was located above the round collar of his shirt. She watched the smooth way his Adam’s apple moved up and down.