by Marta Acosta
The woman frowned disapprovingly. “Whatever you say, Mr. Radcliffe.” She packed her gear and went back to the ambulance, leaving us alone.
Jack kissed my brow. “I thought I lost you, Halfling. This is why I wanted you to leave—to keep you safe.”
“I know.” My voice was scratchy and it hurt to talk. “Claire killed BB. Lucky and Mr. Mason were next.”
Jack was so stunned that it took him a long time to speak, and his voice came out rough and low. “Poor BB. My parents couldn’t have known.”
“They didn’t know Claire was alive,” I said, and each word was painful. “They knew someone killed BB.”
Because I was so sensitive to some sounds that I could distinguish them through the chaos of a disaster, I heard someone weeping. I searched through the crowd and saw Mrs. Radcliffe. She stood gazing up at the building. Tobias Radcliffe was motionless beside her. Lucky was there, too, mesmerized by the fire. He was as striking as the stone angels in the eerie light, and I felt as much for him as I did for the angels.
The fire was horrible and magnificent, too, and I thought of the Family’s blood ceremony to the harvest.
Jack said, “I need to talk to my parents and then I want to get you away from here. Will you be all right for a minute?”
I nodded and watched as he went to his family. While he spoke to them, Mr. Radcliffe put his arm around his wife’s shoulders. Lucky covered his face with his hands, and Jack hugged him for a long time.
A police officer went to the Radcliffes and talked with them, and then Jack came back to me. “One of the officers is giving us a lift to the Holidays.”
On the short ride, I saw all the neighbors standing outside of their homes, watching the fire at Birch Grove with the same fascination that neighbors in Hellsdale watched the aftermath of a shootout. Mary Violet and her family were waiting for us in their driveway.
“Jane!” MV cried out, and everyone talked in an excited jumble, asking if I was all right and wanting to know if I needed anything.
Mr. Holiday held his arms in a time-out signal. “All of you, quiet the heck down, and let Jane have some peace.”
I didn’t complain this time when Jack picked me up and carried me inside.
Mrs. Holiday led the way to a first-floor guest room and Jack set me on the bed and left to give us privacy. Mary Violet helped her mother take off my shoes, my wet, charred clothes, and the dirty bandage on my ankle.
I sat on the edge of the bathtub as they ran cool water over my burns and wiped the soot and dirt off my hands and feet with a washcloth. Mrs. Holiday wrapped a clean stretch bandage over my ankle while Mary Violet lightly bandaged the burns and cuts. When Mary Violet brushed my hair back and braided it, she and her mother saw the scar that I always kept hidden. MV glanced at her mother, who shook her head.
As they lifted my arms to slip on a loose nightgown, I saw a pink, rose, and beige painting on the wall. I smiled, because now I understood that the painting celebrated life, and I was so happy that I was alive.
MV helped me into bed, and Mrs. Holiday held out two pills and a glass of water. “These will help the pain and help you sleep.’”
“Thanks, but no. I spent so long being afraid to feel. I want to feel things now.”
Mary Violet placed a silver bell on the bedside. “Ring it and we’ll come tout de suite, which is French for ‘lickety-split.’”
When they moved aside, I saw Jack standing in the doorway in sweatpants and a clean t-shirt. “I’ll stay with Jane tonight.”
Mary Violet’s rosy mouth opened in surprise.
“I want him here,” I said.
Mrs. Holiday took Mary Violet by the hand, dragged her out of the room, and closed the door behind them.
Jack came to the bed and lay down beside me.
I asked, “How did you find me? Where was I?”
“I heard you calling me and followed your voice. You were under the trees below the chem lab. You weren’t breathing, but you were smiling.”
I curled toward him and gazed into his moss-and-sunlight eyes and I cupped his wonderful face in my hands and fell asleep.
Seven years ago we all went through the flames; and the happiness of some of us since then is, we think, well worth the pain we endured …
Bram Stoker, Dracula (1897)
Chapter 35
I heard a child say, “This room smells like a barbecue.”
“You are an abominable pestilence upon this earth.”
When I opened my eyes, it was late morning and Mary Violet and her brother were watching me.
“You’re awake!” She came and sat on the bed, telling Bobby, “Tell Mom that Jane is awake.”
He ran out of the room, shouting, “Moooom!”
“Where’s Jack?” I asked MV in a hoarse voice.
“Your secret looover? He went to his house. He’ll be back soon. I’m not supposed to bother you with questions even though I am consumed by curiosity.” She blinked away tears. “You could have been killed, JW! What was Mrs. Mason doing here? I thought she was dead.”
“I thought so, too.”
“How did it start?”
It was such a simple question: how had it all started? Had it started with Birch Grove, or before that with Hosea’s death, or on the night that I ran out into the storm?
Telling the truth wouldn’t help BB and could hurt Mr. Mason, who had already suffered enough. “Mrs. Mason tried to run from the past, but couldn’t live without Birch Grove. She wanted to surprise everyone by coming back. We were helping Mr. Mason set up an experiment and that old table of elements chart caught on fire and started a chain reaction.”
“We all guessed it was an accident. School is closed for a week and when we go back some of the classrooms will be moved to Flounder and the Gin.”
I sniffed. “Your brother is right. I do smell like a barbecue. I must look awful.”
MV picked up a book from atop a stack on the bedside table. “I brought these for you. They’re my Beatrix Potter stories.” She flipped it open to a bookmark. “See how pretty the mice are, like you.”
I saw an illustration of a delicate brown mouse serving tea. “I still think you’re crazy.”
MV put her fists on her hips. “You little reverse-snob geek! Any dimwit can see how fabulous I am because I’m an obvious beauty. You’re a subtle beauty. Most people will never notice you. But those of us who are perceptive think you’re beautiful.”
“Perceptive or deluded?”
She puffed out a breath. “Will you at least consider my theory?”
I thought about the way Jack looked at me. “Okay, I’ll consider it.”
“That’s enough for me, Mousie. Interesting fact, Mousie sounds like moi aussie, which is French for ‘me, too,’ and that’s a good nickname for you because you’re one of us now. We’ll help you remember things because we’ll always be telling Jane stories now.”
* * *
The Holidays were careful with me, bringing chamomile tea with honey and letting me rest. Agnes peeked in holding a brand-new set of pink warm-ups with a matching pink sports bra, a new three-pack of panties, and lavender tennis shoes still in the box. “I think these will fit even though pink is for silly sissies and you’re not a silly sissy.”
“Thanks, Agnes.” I couldn’t resist saying, “Your sister is fanatical about pink.”
Agnes laughed. “My sister is a secret genius. Don’t tell anyone!”
“I promise!”
The warm-ups and shoes fit perfectly and the colors cheered me.
Jack rode his bike over at noon. I was resting on a lounge chair in the back garden, enjoying the mild gray day.
“Hey, Halfling.” He sat down on the grass by my chair.
“Thanks for finding me last night. Were you already in the building?”
“No, I was lurking by your cottage because I thought Lucky might be there and then I’d have to beat him up. He’s super strong, but I was planning to fight dirty.”
&
nbsp; “I told you he wasn’t with me!”
“I was also thinking about apologizing again when I heard the fire alarm.” He wove his strong, calloused fingers with mine. “I couldn’t bear having my fairy creature hate me. She might cast a spell that changed me into a real jackass, instead of a guy who acts like a jackass. I had to awaken you with a kiss.”
When I laughed, my lungs hurt. “Are you actually going to apologize or are you merely thinking about it?”
“I hereby issue an open-ended apology to Jane Williams for all my past, present, and future infractions and offenses.”
“Apology accepted.”
“Do you want to tell me what happened last night?”
“Yes.” I told him about finding the jewelry box and getting the text from Mr. Mason. “Now I know why he didn’t call me back. It was Claire texting.”
“She logged on to an office computer using your ID and sent Lucky a message offering him a preceremony taste. When he went to the auditorium, there was a cup of drugged blood waiting. His craving overcame his common sense, as it usually does.”
“Claire didn’t want your mother to have a child when she couldn’t…”
“It’s okay. I knew about my father and Aunt Claire. We all knew, but we pretended that they were only friends.”
“Was it awful for your mother?”
“It’s hard to say. Most of her generation accepts it as normal for the Family men, and with Aunt Claire there, my mother didn’t have to feel guilty about ignoring my dad.” Jack ran his hand through his hair in the family gesture, and his fingers got caught in the curls. “My mother’s real passion has always been for Birch Grove, her exceptional school for exceptional girls.”
“Claire’s passion was for your father. But she was damaged before. Her own parents did horrible things to her. No child deserved that agony.”
“How did the fire start?”
“Knowledge is power. Even a small person can wreak havoc with the basics of chemistry.” I thought about Claire as a girl, using her smarts to escape her parents. “I didn’t expect it to catch so fast, but I wanted to set off the alarms and prevent Claire from hurting Lucky and Mr. Mason.”
“Thank you for saving my brother. You protected him the way you promised, like a Companion.” His thick brows lowered in resignation.
“You’re welcome, but I’m not his Companion. I’ll never be his or anyone’s Companion.”
Jack’s smile was like sunshine. “Good. I didn’t want that life for you and I don’t want to share you.”
“You were keeping guard outside my cottage.”
“As much as I could, but it wasn’t easy. Lucky and my parents were watching me. They figured out how I felt about you and thought I’d interfere with the initiation.”
“They were right. We have an affinity.” I ruffled his curls. “What now?”
“The Family’s cleanup crew has already arrived and is doing damage control.” He paused. “Jane, they didn’t find Aunt Claire’s body in the classroom. Or anywhere. All the secret tunnels were searched. She’d been using them to hide and spy.”
A breeze raised goose bumps on my skin. “So she’s still out there.”
Jack nodded. “But the official story is that she’s dead. Otherwise … it gets complicated. My parents want you to come up to the house and talk to them. The Family will offer you something in exchange for your silence about the incident. Hattie will be here at three to take you to the meeting.”
“Will you be there, too?”
“I wasn’t invited, but if you want me there, I will be.”
“I’d like that, but … Jack, are you really just friends with Hattie?”
“I’m really just friends with Hattie.” When he stood up, strands of grass clung to his shorts. He kissed me softly. “I’ll see you soon, Halfling.”
After he left, Constance and Mary Violet joined me outside. They hauled lawn chairs beside mine.
“I absolutely can’t stand it anymore,” Mary Violet said. “You have to tell me what’s happening, or I shall perish from insatiable nosiness.”
“Mary Violet is going through gossip withdrawal.” Constance kissed my cheek. “Everyone is asking her for details and she doesn’t know any, except that Jack Radcliffe stayed with you last night, which she has told me repeatedly. Look in the dictionary under mindless reiteration, and you’ll see her picture there.”
“I’m stunned,” Mary Violet said. “Except that Jack Radcliffe is a babe magnet. I thought you were lusting for Lucky. My photo is probably cross-indexed with stunning and clueless.”
“Stunningly clueless.” Constance took off her glasses and polished them with the edge of her t-shirt. “The fire chief already made an announcement about the accident, and you don’t have to tell us anything else. If you want to talk, though, we’re here, Jane.”
“You could have died, Jane.” Mary Violet’s eyes welled with tears. “Poor Mrs. Mason. The fire burned so hot there are no remains. I don’t think she could stand living here, but this was the only home she knew, so she couldn’t stay away. Ut incepit fidelis sic permanet.”
“It’s only a dumb motto,” Constance said. “You over-dramatize things.”
“I think MV is right,” I said. “When I first came here, I thought Mrs. Radcliffe was full of … was talking nonsense when she told me that Birch Grove relationships marked you for life. Now I know she was telling the truth.”
“Speaking of relationships,” Mary Violet began, and tilted her head, “JW, how did you steal Jack from Hattie?”
“He says they’re only friends.”
“I always thought so,” Constance said.
“I thought it first,” MV said, “so I win.” She fluttered her hands frantically. “OMCG, Jane, you’re Titania! Of course you are.”
“I don’t even know what that means, MV.”
“Titania was the Queen of the Faeries in A Midsummer Night’s Dream, and her jealous husband tells her, ‘Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania,’ but everything works out in the end and all the lovers are reunited,” she said, the words rushing out of her mouth. “Oh, I can’t wait until we do our Shakespeare scenes with Greenwood boys. You can be Titania and wear glittery wings.”
“Jane, don’t let MV force you to do anything you don’t want to. She made me play Abraham Lincoln in seventh grade because she was dying to be crazy Mary Todd Lincoln.”
“You were fabulous in a top hat and tails, like a Caribbean Marlene Dietrich,” Mary Violet said. “Jane, my mother says I’m supposed to cheer you up, so I’ll now recite the poem I wrote for you, ‘Ode to an Innocent.’”
“Please don’t! Save us!” Constance fell off her chair onto the grass as Mary Violet stood.
“She’s going to throw her arms out now,” I said. “I’m scared!”
“I am,” MV said, and threw out her arms.
“Oh, sweet maiden Jane, so thoughtful and true,
Your heart was as pure as the morning dew
You sallied forth to an academic activity,
Only to find paintings of graphic proclivity.
Ladies’ privates in size so crude and so vast
The vulgarity of which was unsurpassed,
The lesson you learned was not one expected,
No advance planning could keep you protected,
Because what’s once seen cannot be unseen, alas,
Thus Birch Grove once more sullies a virtuous lass.”
Laughing made me cough, and after Constance had patted me on the back and Mary Violet had held the garden hose for me to drink, I caught my breath. “I suppose I’m going to have to start writing poetry now just to defend myself. What rhymes with nitwit?”
“Illicit,” Mary Violet said. “Permissive.”
“Permissive does not rhyme with nitwit.” Constance shook her head. “She’s always forcing a rhyme.”
“It’s artistic license!”
I closed my eyes and, as I listened to their cheerful bickering, I felt an un
familiar sense of relaxation and peace, something that had been missing in my life since Hosea had died. Because I belonged. I’d believed belonging meant being exactly like everyone around you, but I was wrong. Belonging was trusting others so much that I could finally be myself.
“I think you have had your share of the sunshine and the pleasures of the earth, and that you should spend your few remaining days in repenting your sins and trying to make atonement for the young lives that have been sacrificed to your love of life.”
Mary Elizabeth Braddon, Good Lady Ducayne (1896)
Chapter 36
Hattie arrived at the Holidays’ at a quarter to three. She hugged me for a long time before letting go. “I’m so glad that you’re okay.”
I leaned against her as we went to her car.
On the ride to the Radcliffes’, Hattie was blasting some punk. “What is this?” I shouted.
“Bikini Kill, ‘Don’t Need You,’” she shouted back. “My mother hates my music.” She pulled over to the curb, and we listened until the song ended. She lowered the volume and pulled back onto the street. “Jack told me what happened. I’m so sad for BB. I’d hoped that she’d run off with someone who loved her, because that’s what she really wanted, love. If she’d stayed with Lucky and later married, her husband would always come second.”
“Is that the way it always is with the Companions?”
“Not always. My father and his Companion have been long-distance friends for forever now. She’s raising a family and doing real estate. But the Radcliffe men are egomaniacs—except for Jack.”
I sighed. “Last night when I was watching the Radcliffes together, I thought, that’s what family is, people who care for each other no matter what the circumstances, people who forgive each other.”
“Jack says I’m supposed to tell you that we aren’t really dating.”
