by Nancy Werlin
“Sure.” Lucy looked at Zach, who was talking animatedly to two other guys about the car. “I’ll text you.”
“Okay.” Walker smiled at Fenella. “We’re on our own.”
Fenella smiled back. She couldn’t help it; his face was so open, so warm. She watched Lucy maneuver Dawn’s stroller away and all at once began to feel better. Perhaps the day could be a vacation after all.
She had a day with Walker. With Walker and with cars. Cars and trucks. Inanimate objects that did what they were designed to do. That did not trick you or betray you or hurt you. She would enjoy it. Couldn’t she do that? Couldn’t she have this one day?
She would.
The feeling of relief made her almost giddy. She revolved slowly in a circle, gripping her map. Where to start?
Over there, a clutch of shiny cars were lined up from smallest to largest, their hoods invitingly open; their engines gleamingly clean. An ordinary-looking van was parked in the opposite direction. It was not unlike the one Leo used, but inside its sliding side door, Fenella glimpsed the most preposterous thing: a kitchen, complete with a stove and refrigerator and table for two. She took a step toward it and realized that there was a small sofa in there too. It was a tiny house! A van-house! Well, why not?
There, over to the right in the distance, there were giant tires, higher than her head, holding up—
It penetrated that Walker was saying something about trucks, and pointing beyond the cars with the open hoods.
Words burst from Fenella. “Yes! I want to see the trucks. But let’s go look in those engines over there first. And then . . .”
Chapter 31
In the late afternoon, the crowds inside the convention center thinned. Lucy and Zach left to take Dawn home, with Zach promising to come back to pick up Fenella and Walker when called. Happy to be even more alone with Walker, Fenella took her pen and crossed out the part of her map that said Jeep. She said to Walker, “Toyota next? It says here that they have hybrids.”
“Sure.” Walker pushed one hand through his loose hair. When he had gone with Fenella to look underneath the electric Mitsubishi MiEV, he had somehow lost the rubber band for his ponytail. “I’m surprised you didn’t want to see the hybrids before.”
“I needed to focus on gas and electric engines separately, first.”
Fenella had spent a delightful day crawling under cars and poking inside engines. She had read data on emissions, and discussed fuel economy, deep-sea drilling, and longrange oil pipelines with anybody who came near and showed an interest.
She had also had many questions for the car manufacturers’ representatives. At a certain point, however, they all became annoyed. She was told, in these exact words: “You don’t understand the laws of physics, young lady.” She stopped asking after that.
It was maddening. As if she needed to be told that she didn’t understand physics. Of course she didn’t. Nobody did! You didn’t have to spend four hundred years in Faerie to realize that the so-called physical laws were not really laws at all. Human scientists understood this, no problem. One of them, Albert Einstein, who was so acclaimed that he’d come up several times even in Fenella’s limited reading, had said it plainly. Yet these car salespeople talked as if there were rigid and incontrovertible rules.
As she studied engines and how they burned fuel, Fenella couldn’t help wondering how much further she might push human knowledge, herself, if she had the opportunity to try. There were baseline presumptions in other people’s minds involving physical reality that she simply didn’t share. If she were to go to school and study; if she were able to talk and learn and experiment with people who thought about these things—knowing what she already knew, having experienced what she had already experienced . . . what might happen?
Walker said, “Can we grab something to eat? It’s after five o’clock. You only had that pretzel at lunch.”
“It was delicious.” Fenella consulted her map again. “The food court is in the opposite direction. We only have today. I don’t want to miss anything.”
“We’ll be quick. I’ll be happy with a hot dog. I can cram it into my mouth in three bites.”
“But—”
“Two bites.”
“But what if there are long lines, like at lunch?”
“Hey, look, I promise we won’t leave this convention center until you’ve seen everything you want. Even if we have to hide out here after they close.” Walker was grinning.
Fenella smiled too. “In that case, we can sit down to eat.”
“My digestion thanks you.”
“I don’t want you to starve.”
“How thoughtful.” Walker motioned. “This way.”
If only Walker hadn’t been joking, Fenella thought. If only they really could spend the night here at the auto show. They could stay in the van-house; she had discovered that the van’s sofa folded out into a bed . . .
She quickly steered her mind somewhere safer.
Soon they were settled on one side of a large round table, with hot dogs and drinks and a large pretzel for Fenella, and with their legs aligned side by side beneath the table, not quite touching but not quite apart either. A noisy family group occupied the rest of the table, but it was easy to forget they were there.
Absently, Fenella put her hand on her pocket where her leaf thrummed gently. It was happy, Fenella thought, because she was happy.
She looked frankly at Walker over her pretzel and discovered he was looking back. For no reason, she blushed.
“A penny,” he said.
“What?”
“For your thoughts.”
It took a second for Fenella to figure out what he was asking. For once, she could answer with the truth. “I’m happy,” she said simply.
“Me too.” Walker’s voice was soft. Fenella leaned closer on the excuse of needing to hear better. Then her face was only inches from his. It seemed natural—inevitable—that he cupped her face between his hands. He kissed the tip of her nose and then withdrew an inch, smiling. She smiled back, and waited for a real kiss, on the lips. But he moved back.
She understood. He thought they had all the time in the world. So she didn’t move in on him, because it was also sweet—well, bittersweet—to be for today what he thought she was.
She offered him half of her pretzel.
“Have you always been interested in engines?” Walker asked.
“Just lately.” Fenella hesitated. “I’m sort of fixated on them. You might have noticed. I’ve been dragging you all over the place today, haven’t I? Demanding we see this and t hat.”
“I enjoy it. I invited you here, remember?”
“Yes.” It came to Fenella that maybe Walker hadn’t actually planned on spending the whole entire day at the auto show, from opening to closing. A few hours had obviously been more than enough for Lucy and Zach. “If you don’t want to go look at the Toyota hybrids, we could go do something else,” she offered.
Walker had been drinking, and at this, the liquid went down the wrong pipe. Fenella pounded him helpfully on the back. “You can’t mean that,” he said when he had recovered.
“I do.”
“L iar.”
“Well, you’ve indulged me all day long. We should do what you want to do next. That would be fine with me too. It will still have been the best day that I ever—” Something caught in her throat. “I mean, it’s been a really wonderful day. For which I have to, you know.” Why was she whispering? “Thank you,” Fenella finished, in a raw little rush.
There was a pause.
Now their legs were touching beneath the table, from thigh to knee to calf to ankle to foot.
“Let me clarify,” Walker said at last. “I don’t particularly care about seeing the hybrids. But I want you to see them. And I want to watch you see them.”
Walker looked straight into Fenella’s eyes. Fenella looked back. He’s going to kiss me, Fenella thought. But he didn’t.
“I like watching you enj
oy yourself.” Walker’s voice dropped to a near whisper. “I have the feeling that you . . . How to put this? That you haven’t enjoyed yourself all that much in your life.” He stopped before adding, deliberately, “For a long time.”
His eyes were as brown as the mulch of leaves on the ground in the wetness of early spring.
“And—I hope this doesn’t offend you, but I have to tell you: I wonder. Why did you leave your past behind and come live with relatives you’d never met? What was your life before? What happened to you? Why did Miranda say you needed time?”
Walker’s voice got, if possible, even lower. “What are you running from? Who are you? There’s only one thing I’m sure of, and it’s that you have a story. A story and a past.”
There was no accusation in Walker’s words, and also no demand for an answer. But she had to give him something. She had to. She put her hand on her leaf for courage.
“Yes,” she said hoarsely. “I do.”
“You’ll tell me someday,” Walker said, with certainty.
Fenella shook her head helplessly.
“No pressure. No worries. There’s as much time as you need.”
They had until ten o’clock, when the auto show would close. That was all, because tomorrow was moving day.
Also, she had decided.
Tomorrow was the second task. And so, there would be no someday for she knew what she was going to do.
She said, “No worries.”
“Good.” Walker got up. “Want to go look at Toyota hybrids?”
“Yes,” said Fenella. “I really do.”
Chapter 32
Early the next morning, Fenella captured Ryland. Once he understood her purpose, he struggled, trying to
scratch and bite, all the while sending a stream of invectivelaced thoughts into her head. One curse was particularly creative, having to do with the excretion of a fire ant army that had picnicked on hemlock.
She tried to detach his claws from the rim of the cat carrier’s gate. “It’s moving day. Everybody will think it’s strange if you’re not locked safely away.”
Ryland stopped struggling. I suppose so. He looked sullen, however. Fenella pushed him the rest of the way inside the carrier and clicked the gate shut.
Because of donations from friends and the community, there was a surprising amount of stuff to move. A list on the kitchen table had all the particulars. Fenella wasn’t sure how many people and how many trucks were involved with the move; she only knew that everybody was meeting here for breakfast at seven a.m.
Zach was always awake early, before Lucy, before everybody.
Fenella stared pensively at Ryland. He scowled back.
I hate this cage. Also, I don’t think you’re putting me in here because of the move. I think you’re up to something, and you don’t want me to know.
“Not at all,” said Fenella gruffly. “I’m taking the good advice you already gave me. Seduction, remember?”
She met the cat’s stare through the bars of the cage.
But you need me to coach you through it.
“You told me that I already know what to do. It’s true.”
Do you have the perfume?
Fenella nodded. She had arisen last night and slipped outside for the key ingredient. “Can’t you smell it?”
Did you tune it to Zach, specifically?
“Of course I did.” Although in fact she had forgotten.
Ryland paused for so short a time that it could have been Fenella’s imagination. Then he nodded. It really is best. Other things might work, but this definitely will. I only hope it won’t be too painful for you.
Fenella was taken aback. Compassion? For her? From Ryland? Surely not.
He curled up on the bottom of the carrier. She placed it in the apartment’s downstairs bathroom and went into the kitchen. She felt fine. Not nervous. Calm.
This would not be like the fire. There would be no deniability and no doubt about what she had done. There would be no family afterward. Not for her, and possibly not for any of them, either.
But maybe later they would heal. If any family could, it would be this one.
She hoped.
Fenella pulled at the top of the coffeemaker. There was a hidden compartment in which the coffee should be placed, but she couldn’t find it. She hit the machine with her fist.
“Hey, Fenella. Morning. Let me do the coffee, okay?”
It was Zach, behind her. Her shoulders tensed. Perhaps she wasn’t ready after all.
She moved a few inches to the left and watched as Zach opened the coffeemaker. He reached for filters and coffee.
When precisely do you think you will be ready?
The snide voice wasn’t Ryland, of course; he was locked away. It was her own internal voice, telling her what he would say.
Because this was a good time. Zach was up. Lucy probably was stirring too, as this was moving day. She might walk into the kitchen at any moment.
Zach was still dressed for sleeping, in sweatpants and a faded, ragged T-shirt. His feet were bare, and his hair was tousled, and his eyes looked tired. Still hesitating, Fenella watched him measure coffee. He had strong forearms nicely roped with muscle and arteries.
Fenella had envied Lucy before. Now she felt nothing except the bleak necessity of going forward.
She stepped close. She brushed up against Zach, and saw him glance down at her, startled at the contact. She smiled up at him.
Then she cast out the fragile cobwebs of sexual allure. It was a matter of intention, of eye contact, and finally, of scent. Scent could not be defended against. Scent spoke directly, animal to animal. Scent undermined and weakened and convinced.
A hundred small signs told Fenella that her message had been received. The minute warming of Zach’s skin. The involuntary change in his own scent. And of course the fact that—you didn’t need Faerie training to perceive this—for a few shocked seconds he ceased to breathe.
Fenella leaned forward, pretending great interest in the coffeemaker. If Zach looked down, he would see inside the gaping front of her shirt, where she was not wearing the harness called a bra.
He looked down.
She possessed nothing that Lucy didn’t also have, but what mattered, in the sexual trance, was that she was a different version. Different in shape and weight and texture. Softer in some places, harder in others. Her skin had a different tone and her sweat a different taste. The enticement, the promise, of the differences . . . all wrapped up in the scent.
The scent.
Zach’s hands jerked and the coffee grinds spilled all over the counter.
Fenella slipped her body between Zach and the counter. She put her hands on his hips and held him unmistakably against her.
For a long moment, neither of them moved.
Then, to Fenella’s surprise, Zach broke away. A second later, he was all the way across the kitchen. His face was flushed. He looked horribly confused, and guilty, and angry. And lustful.
Fenella smiled at him knowingly. He was still linked to her; she could smell it.
Odd that he’d had the strength to break away. But it didn’t matter, she told herself, so long as she kept her resolve. If she couldn’t seduce him right here and now, on the kitchen floor, then it would be soon. She would have lost the element of surprise, but it would be made up for by the strength of his imagination. She had sent the poison into his system. He might struggle, but he wouldn’t escape if she acted soon. He would fantasize meanwhile.
Zach had his spine pressed up against the refrigerator. “We’ll forget this,” he whispered.
He’d have backed right out of the room, Fenella thought, except that he wasn’t sure at the moment where the door was located.
She shook her head. “I won’t forget.”
Deliberately, she turned her back. She bent to clear up the spilled coffee grinds, aware of his gaze still on her body, aware of the exact second he managed to flee the room.
Or had she let him g
o?
No.
Surely not.
She finished making the pot of coffee. After a while, the first volunteers arrived.
Chapter 33
The morning wore on. Fenella said no more to Zach. She glanced at him from time to time, as if casually, while people moved boxes and furniture in preparation for the move. He did not look back, and he did not look well, and he kept as far away from Fenella as he could.
Nonetheless, awareness ran between them, taut and thick. She felt disembodied. Watching herself watch Zach. Watching Zach watch Lucy. Once, she put her hand into her pocket, where she had placed the leaf. She felt its tendrils of calm, but they too seemed distant. The leaf could not, or did not, tell her what to do.
I must go ahead, she told herself. I must. It will save Lucy from Padraig. She knew it was true. But she tasted bile in her throat just the same, pushing up through an unholy stew of shame and despair, of anger and fear.
However, the stew contained something else, as well: hope that she was making the right choice—the least bad choice.
She clung to this like moss to bark.
Zach tried to stay near Lucy, which was not easy because Lucy was always on the move. She had a pair of sunglasses perched on her nose and a Boston Red Sox cap on her head. Once all the boxes were gathered outside, she whistled— startlingly loudly, with two fingers in her mouth.
“Miranda, let’s see, could you just take Dawn to the park? Jacqueline and Soledad are driving to the new apartment in Jacqueline’s car. You’ll be cleaning and then unpacking the kitchen stuff, and making the beds. Fenella, you and I will be based here for a couple hours, directing traffic. Amy and Mark, I think you said you were willing to go to Somerville to get those beds, right? Zach, I have you and Sarah taking her parents’ van up to Portsmouth for the kitchen set. Then you’ll stop in Newbury for the TV and bookshelves, and then in Lexington for the toddler clothing. God, that’s a lot you and Sarah are doing—is it okay?”
Zach hovered close to Lucy. “Why don’t you come with me instead of Sarah?”
