by Marta Acosta
Jack put his arm lightly over my shoulders, and I nestled gingerly against him, conscious of my burns. “Maybe he’s conflicted because he thought you loved someone else and he was trying to get you to safety, even though he really wanted you to stay. He wanted you for his own, not to share with anyone else.”
“Does he want me to stay now?”
“Yes, because he’s in love with you. He’s never met a prettier, braver, smarter halfling, and all he wants, Jane, is to be with you.”
I pulled Jack to me and kissed him.
When our lips parted, Jack’s brows drew together. “You know this is going to be complicated.”
“Compared to what I’ve been through, it will be a cakewalk.”
“My beautiful elfkin is making jokes!”
“I have a fabulous sense of humor,” I said, which sent him laughing.
Then he kissed me again and again, his mouth tasting like the stream from the Other World, his arms as strong as the branches that had raised me up on the night of the storm, and his eyes the color of spring and life.
I slid my hand under his shirt, feeling the heat of his smooth skin. I kissed his neck, then swept back his dark curls and kissed his temple.
He unzipped my pink warm-up jacket. I was wearing the borrowed sports bra, and Jack frowned with concern as he saw the scratches and bandages. His fingertips coursed around the small injuries, and I trembled with desire. His voice was husky: “Does your ankle hurt?”
“Some.”
“I don’t want to hurt you. Ever. So I’m going to have to wait, even though it’s torturing me.” He leaned to me and his lips brushed my ear, and he murmured, “But I could be very careful, Jane…” His mouth was hot on my neck, but he held his hands away as if afraid to be rough. When he pressed his cheek against mine, we were both breathing hard. “Tell me what you want.”
I moved back so I could see his face. I ran my fingers across his marvelous lips, and he closed his eyes and groaned softly.
When he looked at me again, I said, “I want absolutely everything, Jack, but I need to explain something to you first.” I waited until I saw that he was listening. “Before I came to Birch Grove, I was trying to grow up as fast as possible because that was the only way to protect myself. I was afraid all the time. Most of the people I knew didn’t expect to live past eighteen, so they tried to experience everything while they could.”
He began to open his mouth and I put my forefinger across his lips. He nipped it and I smiled. “But now I don’t have to rush anymore. I can enjoy the things girls are supposed to enjoy. I can savor life. Besides, you only have your wisdom teeth taken out once.”
His thick brows knit together. “Okay, I’m completely confused. What does that mean?”
I gazed into Jack’s eyes. “It means that I want to go on a date with you, Jacob Radcliffe, our very first date, and I want to remember it forever. And then I want to go on more dates with you. I want to experience it all, and I don’t want to skip ahead to the last page in the book. Is that okay?”
He nodded. “I can do that. I shouldn’t have even asked now after what you’ve been through.”
“That’s okay. I like that you want me.”
“So much that it drives me crazy. When you came into my bedroom that time, I thought, well, I thought you’d come to see me and tell me, I don’t know, that you wanted me, too.”
“I think I probably did want you, but you confused me because you made my emotions go haywire. You still do. I better get back to the Holidays’.”
He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Do we have to go right away?”
“No, not right away.”
Jack nuzzled, kissed, and stroked me as the early evening breeze brushed branches across the cottage, shush, shush, shush. Then Jack’s rough fingers went to my scar, and it pulsed, responding to him as it had the first day we’d met. “What’s this from?”
“My stepfather shot my mother and then shot me, and I climbed into a tree to escape,” I said. “No, what really happened is that he shot me and the tree carried me up thirty feet into her branches and saved me. The paramedics had already declared me dead when I finally started breathing again. After surgery, they put me in an induced coma so I could recover. When I woke up three months later, I’d forgotten my whole life. I’d forgotten my mother.”
“The scar is shaped exactly like a leaf.”
“I think the Lady of the Wood gave it to me as a gift, a memento.”
“So I was right, and you are magic.”
“Not me. The Lady of the Wood.” I listened to the branches sweeping against the cottage. “She watches over me. She watches over us all, but we forgot her. I stepped into that world when I died.”
I thought about the gentle, maternal spirit. “I thought that my anger kept me alive, but it was love, I think, that sustained me. Even though I wasn’t conscious of my mother’s love, the memories were here.” I placed my hand over my heart.
“You are like that, Halfling, a bit clueless about people who love you.”
“I’m going to find the door to the Other World to visit.” I ran my fingers over his eyebrows and down his nose, letting them rest on his lips.
He kissed my fingertips. “I think you already have. The day we met, I saw you magically appear on the path.”
“I thought you were teasing.”
“I thought I was dreaming.” He held my hands. “The old stories say that magical creatures lived here hundreds of years ago. I think you’re one, Halfling.”
“I think what we call magic are really gateways to parallel universes with different laws of physics. Or maybe not parallel, but skewed universes that intersect.”
“It really turns me on when you talk geek.” His fingers traced my tattoo. “What does this H mean?”
I told him about Hosea. “He loved science and he loved God, and he was cross-referencing the Bible with his physics book. He wanted me to stop my incessant cussing, do my schoolwork, be nice, and try. He thought I should try to be a better person and I should try to figure out things.”
“He sounds like he loved you.”
I nodded. “I loved him, too.”
“He also sounds like someone who wanted you to be happy. H is for happy and for hope, and…” Jack thought for a moment. “And for honey, which is both an endearment and nice with peanut butter in a sandwich.”
“H is for hilarious, which you think you are.”
“H is for Halfling, and I love Halfling,” he said. “Jane, what happened to your stepfather?”
“He was hit by lightning in a storm.”
“What are the chances of that?” Jack was silent for a long time. “We’re dealing with a lot of improbabilities lately.”
“You mean like how much you resemble Ian Ducharme?”
“That’s one of them, but my mother says it’s a coincidence and she may be telling the truth this time. Tobias Radcliffe is the only father I want and he needs me now. Besides, I don’t heal up the way the Family does, and I do have kind of a common face.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Well, you’re a terrible judge of these things. Anytime I tried to tell you how I felt, you thought I was talking about Hattie.”
“It’s because you were so elliptical.”
“Okay, I’ll be direct.” Then he spoke slowly and carefully:
“sic erit; haeserunt tenues in corde sagittae,
et possessa ferus pectora versat Amor.
Cedimus, an subitum luctando accendimus ignem?
cedamus! leve fit, quod bene fertur, onus.”
I translated the poem in my head as he spoke: “Thus it will be; slender arrows are lodged in my heart, and Love vexes the chest that it has seized. Shall I surrender or stir up the sudden flame by fighting it? I will surrender—a burden becomes light when it is carried willingly.”
“Whew!” He wiped a hand across his forehead. “I mean, vhev. Hov vas my pronunciation?”
“You�
�re supposed to pronounce the v’s like w’s, not w’s like v’s. Except for that, it was really the most genius Latin I’ve ever heard,” I said, smiling. “Te amo. I love you, Jack.”
* * *
Jack helped me pack my sports bag with clothes and books. When he was in the bathroom, I snuck into the laundry room and pulled out the manila envelope holding my stash. All my money was still there.
“Jane, you ready?” Jack called.
“In a minute.” I shoved the money in the envelope and hid it. Because old habits die hard.
I went out to the living room. “Ready.”
Jack carried my sports bag and helped me hobble to the drive, where Mary Violet was waiting in her car.
* * *
Mrs. Holiday was in the kitchen, arranging fruit in a basket, when MV and I came in. “Hi, girls! I’m so glad you’re back, sweetie.”
She had called me sweetie, the sort of ordinary nickname that mothers use, and I burst into tears. The tears became sobs, and the sobs racked my body. MV and her mother sat me in a chair.
“Jane, what is it? What is it?” MV asked, and handed me tissues.
Mrs. Holiday said, “She was in shock before. Everything’s coming at her now.”
I nodded and choked out, “It feels like she died yesterday.”
“She did die yesterday,” MV said.
“Not Claire, my mother. I remember…” The loss hurt so badly that I pulled up my knees and rocked.
The entirety of my memories came to me now.
But the memories came too fast, like the view from a roller coaster, and I could barely recognize one before I saw another, making me feel sick.
My mother’s hand reaching out for mine at a street corner.
My stepfather’s bloodshot eyes and ominous silence before he exploded.
Coming in from a cold day and smelling the rich aroma of chicken soup.
My mother’s fingernail, painted deep rose, pointing out the words on a page of a picture book.
A striped cat that perched on the fence.
Playing by the trees at the back of the yard, where I couldn’t hear the angry voices.
MV and her mother hugged me, murmuring, “Shush, shush, shush, shush,” soothing me like the trees.
I stayed with the Holidays and grieved while my injuries healed and Jack dealt with his parents. I moved to a cot on the balcony, where I could look up at the night sky and think about everything that had happened.
MV and I studied and watched movies and talked constantly. I liked to visit Mrs. Holiday in her sunroom, letting the heat sink into my bones and watching her paint.
Mary Violet waited for me to tell her about my recovered memories. One night while she was sitting at the foot of my cot and we were both staring at the foggy night, I said, “You asked if I’d been camping. I hadn’t, but I used to run away from foster homes. Sometimes I slept in homeless encampments in city parks. I liked being in places with trees.”
“You can come camping with us this summer and help me meet boys who aren’t from Greenwood.”
“You’re asking me to be your wingman?”
“Okay, maybe that idea needs some work.” She grabbed my foot under the blanket. “Are you part Laplander?”
“No, but I know why my mother named me Jane.” I remembered a daisy in a clear glass bottle on the windowsill. “She said Jane was simple and plain, and that all of her favorite things were simple.”
“That’s what I think, too! Like the best solution to a problem is an elegant solution—simple and true.”
After five days, I felt well enough to return to my cottage.
Jack walked me from the Holidays’. I moved slowly because I felt tender all over, as if I’d been protected by a shell and it had cracked open, leaving me exposed. A large basket of orchids was set beside the door on the porch.
Jack picked up the basket and I plucked off the small white envelope attached to the cellophane. I took out the card and read aloud, “Get well soon, 2S.”
Jack frowned. “Do you have another boyfriend?”
“He’s more like a, well, a godfather.”
“Sometimes I worry that I’m only an infatuation for you, like the way you felt about Lucky.”
I opened the front door. “With all due respect, your brother’s kind of a tool. I’ve seen pretty boys—we even have them in Hellsdale—and I thought Lucky was the one who made me feel alive again. But it was you, Jack, it was you.”
* * *
The next day, Mary Violet and Constance visited. “Where’s your boyfriend?” Mary Violet sang as she waltzed in with a plate of cupcakes.
“He’s at practice. We haven’t even gone on a first date yet.” I tried to sound blasé, even though I’d been wondering when Jack would ask me out.
Constance took a cupcake and nibbled at the purple frosting. “Do you know that you’ve become a Birch Grove legend? We’ll need an iconic nickname for you. I thought of Firestarter, but MV thinks it’s too Stephen King.”
Mary Violet gave me an encouraging smile, so I let out a long sigh before saying, “Con, I actually have a nickname you can use. It’s Mousie or Mousie Girl.”
“That’s cool,” Constance said. “It fits because you’re as neat and petite as a mouse.”
“What’s your iconic nickname, Constance?”
Mary Violet raised her hand and waved it. “I know! I know! Ooh, call on me, teacher!”
I nodded, and Mary Violet said, “Constant Comment, like the tea, because she’s sweet and spicy.”
“That is not my nickname! Constance is fine, thank you.”
“Okay, not so sweet.” Mary Violet sighed and sighed again. “Hattie’s so busy with Lucky that we haven’t seen her in years.”
“She stopped by after you left yesterday.” Constance winked an almond eye at me.
“Only for a nanosecond.”
Constance mouthed “no” and said, “It was at least two hours.”
MV held up a t-shirt that Jack had left on the floor and then she dropped it. “Everyone’s doing the dance-with-no-pants except for me. Even Constance is seeing Joe, who’s a junior at Evergreen. When we were in seventh grade, Joe laughed aloud when I got beaned in the head with a soccer ball at the Fourth of July picnic, which I thought was horrifically ungentlemanly. My self-esteem was in shambles.”
“We all laughed when you got beaned, because you were wearing a ginormous pink hat with feathers.”
“It was a captivating chapeau!”
Constance rolled her eyes. “Chapeau is French for ginormous pink hat with feathers. Three guys already asked MV to the Winter Ball.”
“They don’t count,” MV said with a pout. “I’ve known them since we were all embryos and our mothers were in the same birthing classes. I think I’ll dress my sister Agnes in a tux and take her as my date.”
“You wouldn’t!” Constance and I shouted.
“I would! Con, do you still have your Abe Lincoln costume?”
* * *
A few days later, the sun broke through the fog, and the sky cleared to a deep blue. Jack had gone off to do something, and I soaked languorously in the tub with lemon verbena bath salts. I suddenly remembered my mother rolling up her pants and sitting on the edge of the tub so she could soak her feet while I splashed in the water.
On impulse, I got out and tried on the pretty white dress that the Radcliffes had given me. The shoulder straps were so thin that my scar showed, but I didn’t need to hide it anymore. The long skirt floated around my legs when I twirled. I heard Jack return and skipped out into the living room. Maybe this would remind him that I wanted to go on a date. “Hey, you!”
He grinned when he saw the dress and then he kissed me. “Come on. We’re going for a walk.”
“Let me change.”
“No, you’re dressed just right for a walk.”
I tried not to be disappointed as I slipped on delicate silver sandals that I’d never worn before. “It’s a beautiful day.”
<
br /> “A beautiful day with my beautiful pixie in her beautiful fairy dress.”
We held hands, our fingers intertwined, as we walked up the path. Autumn had set in and leaves carpeted the ground. I kicked at them, watching them fly up. “Jack, you like me because I’m puny.”
“I like you because you’re fierce and brilliant. If I get a basket for my bike, you’d probably fit in it.”
“That’s hysterical.”
“I am going to get you on a bike eventually.” He veered off the path through the shrubs.
I slowed. “Lucky showed me this place.”
“He probably took you to the boulder. He always liked to be up high, ruling the world. Come on.” We veered around the boulder and deeper into the grove.
Rocks were set as stepping stones across the creek. Jack held on to my arm to steady me on the mossy surfaces. The air smelled incredibly fresh and the foliage was thick here with a mix of bushes and trees.
“Halfling?”
“Yes, Jack?”
“Do you remember saying you wanted to go on a date with me?”
“I recall that.”
“Does the night at the pizza place count?”
“You mean the night you made me cry?” I snapped.
“Oh, you’re a cranky pixie.” He put his hand over my eyes and guided me forward. I felt branches and ferns brushing against me. “Where are you taking me?”
“You axed me that question when we went on our non-date. Are you absolutely sure that doesn’t count?”
“I’m absolutely sure.”
“What about this, then?”
When Jack removed his hand, I saw that we were standing in a tiny dell, only about eight feet wide, surrounded on all sides by greenery. A picnic lunch and pillows were set out on a blanket, and a green bottle and glasses chilled in a silver ice bucket. Small pink wild roses rambled up an old stump, their delicate blossoms honeying the air.
“It’s a secret room!”
Jack plucked roses and fern fronds and laced the stems into my hair. “I’ve never brought anyone here before. The Family had their ceremonies in the amphitheater, and this was my private place. It always felt a little lonely before.”
