by G. P. Ching
“She has an extraordinary garden,” John continued. “It’s too much work for one person. So, this year she’ll have you.”
Jacob’s skin went clammy.
“She’s agreed to pay you seven dollars an hour for your labor and will employ you until such time as you pay off your debt or longer if you agree to it. It’s actually a great opportunity. Her work is known throughout the world. You may get to see some of it firsthand.”
Jacob shifted in his seat. He was trying to be mature about this, but the truth was he was terrified of the woman. He was sure she was a witch or something. He wondered if the night he’d seen her out his window was a hallucination at all.
“A professor, huh.” Jacob searched for the words. “She seems really … young.”
“You noticed. They say she’s brilliant. Graduated college top of her class at seventeen. I think she’s around thirty now. She moved here about ten years ago. Mostly keeps to herself.”
“So, what’s with the black cloak? It’s … creepy.”
“Yeah, I guess she’s a little eccentric. I mean, I can see why you might think that with the way she dresses and all. But if she makes you uncomfortable, you should have thought of that before you broke her window.” John’s eyebrows arched and the muscle in his jaw tightened. He pushed his plaid sleeves up to his elbows and threaded his fingers over his stomach. “You know, I knew her grandmother. She lived there before Abigail moved in. She was quite a looker. Even when she got old, really beautiful.” John was staring toward the fireplace, not looking at anything in particular.
Jacob searched his brain for something to say, any excuse to escape having to work for Dr. Silva. But nothing came to him. It was as if his brain were hiding in a corner of his head, inaccessible, a blank slate, and no help at all.
“You start Saturday.” He got up from the chair and turned toward the staircase. “Oh, and Jacob, you and Katrina will apologize to each other. I’m going to talk with her right now. This thing between you two has got to stop. You are part of this family now—that goes for you and that goes for her. You two have got to start treating each other like family or this is going to be hell on Earth for all of us.”
As John jogged up the stairs, Jacob rose from the sage green recliner and headed for the bathroom. On his way, he crossed in front of the large bay window. The world beyond was disguised as an early spring day but he knew it was as turbulent as ever. Why hadn’t John used this as an excuse to force him to work in the Laudners’ flower shop? That Jacob would have expected, but not this. This smacked of disaster.
There was definitely something odd, if not dangerous, about Dr. Abigail Silva. Jacob caught sight of her across the street, lying upside-down on a rocking chair on her front porch. Her bare ankles were crossed where her head should have been and her fingers dangled above the porch floor. At once, he realized she was looking at him, those blue eyes searching his face across the distance. And then, as if she had more muscles and joints than the average human, she planted her hands on the blue wood of the porch and flipped her feet over her head, landing easily on the balls of her feet. Jacob watched as she rose to her full height and leaned over the porch rail. Distance and glass couldn’t mellow her effect and the spice of terror and longing filled him, a confusing concoction that made his whole body clench.
She grinned, like the cat that was about to eat the canary.
Chapter 11
Moon Tea And Somali
As agreed, Jacob met with Dr. Silva the following Saturday to discuss his new responsibilities. He dreaded the encounter to the point he had to force himself up each of the inlaid stone steps, his shaking knees betraying his fear as he knocked tentatively on the heavy wooden door. But the Victorian was full of surprises. For one, the inside was as warm and cozy as the outside was cold and foreboding. Dr. Silva had welcomed him into a room she called a parlor near the rear of the house, decorated in honey-brown leather and burgundy plaid with a lively fire burning beneath a gold mantel. Dr. Silva’s cat, a large red Somali that looked like a fox, took an unnatural interest in Jacob, following at his heels and guarding his every move. Dr. Silva said it was the breed; Somalis were known for their loyalty and Gideon, as the cat was called, was not accustomed to strangers.
But perhaps the greatest surprise was that despite Dr. Silva’s casual manner and that she’d forgone her black coat for a sweatshirt and khaki pants, Jacob remained horrified by her presence. The touch of her hand when they greeted one another was enough to send a charge of electric current coursing through his body, and set every hair on end. It was embarrassing, but Jacob felt powerless to fight it.
“Before we get started, I think it would be a good idea for us to get to know each other.” Dr. Silva lowered her chin and stared at Jacob until he felt a bead of sweat drip down his temple. “Would you like some tea?”
He nodded. As if he had any other choice but to say yes. She moved like grace personified, practically gliding to the kitchen. In less time than it would’ve taken him to walk there and back, she returned with two steaming cups. He took a sip with shaky hands, trying his best not to spill any on himself. Around the flavor of oolong tea, he could make out a trace of mango twisted with cinnamon and coconut. The aftertaste was—what was it? Pumpkin. Clearly, pumpkin.
“Do you like it?” she asked.
“Yeah, it’s really good,” he said honestly.
“It’s my own secret recipe. It has over seventeen distinct ingredients. I call it moon tea because it takes a month to make, a full cycle of the moon. I use pumpkins from my garden. Imparts a unique flavor, wouldn’t you agree?”
Jacob nodded. Something about the warm tea and the way the light of the fire flickered across the wood grain coffee table was helping him feel more like himself. Dr. Silva looked him directly in the eye and smiled, but he didn’t feel the same electric tingle as before. He felt … normal, like he might have felt around any adult. She was still stunning but her beauty wasn’t overwhelming.
“That’s better,” she said, but Jacob didn’t know what she meant. She couldn’t possibly know how attracted he’d been to her before.
“You look tired, Jacob. We don’t have to start in the garden right away. Why don’t you just rest awhile and tell me about yourself?”
“Well, I am a little tired,” he replied. To Jacob’s surprise, he began to speak, more openly than ever before. The words poured out of him as if he were a bag of sand that she had slit open, releasing every grain of thought he’d ever had. Jacob told her about his parents and growing up in the little house on Oahu. He told her about his father’s death in the war and then about living with his mother in the family car. He described in detail the public housing apartment he eventually moved into. Jacob admitted that Malini was the only friend he’d had in a long time. But what would upset him the most, later when he’d had the chance to think about their talk, was that Jacob admitted to her that his living situation had cost him friends, and how he wondered, somewhere deep inside, if his mother had meant to abandon him. It was a private thought, not meant to be shared with anyone, but he’d said it just the same.
It didn’t bother him while he said it. Every word was a weight, rolling off his tongue, leaving him lighter than before. It was so easy, to cast the weight aside. When every event his brain could remember was laid out on the table, he leaned back in his chair, feeling as light as a feather, and closed his eyes. If she minded, Dr. Silva did not say so or anything about the silence that ensued.
It was warm here, relaxing. Jacob didn’t care if he ever started work, or if he ever left.
He was on the edge of an irresistible sleep. But just as the feeling threatened to overpower him, he forced his eyes open one last time. He looked across the coffee table at Dr. Silva, her empty cup in hand, and suddenly felt rude for doing all of the talking and none of the listening.
“What about you, Dr. Silva? Tell me about yourself.”
Dr. Silva sat up straighter, her eyebrows arched in surprise
. She shifted in her chair, looking uncomfortable.
“Well there’s not much to tell really,” she began. Her eyes flicked from her cup to Jacob. “My father kicked me out of his house a long, long time ago, and I have been trying to get back home ever since.”
She may have continued but Jacob didn’t hear. He was fast asleep.
Chapter 12
A Girl Worth Fighting For
When Jacob woke up, Dr. Silva was in the same chair. He had no idea how long he’d been asleep, but the weather had changed and rain pelted the window in angry bursts. Self-conscious, he ran the back of his hand across his mouth to check for drool. Had she been watching him sleep?
Dr. Silva explained that he was done for the day, but Jacob would be expected to work every Saturday morning. She would be waiting for him in the back of the house a week from today. He agreed, straightened his shirt, and followed her to the door.
Spending a morning with Dr. Silva made Jacob feel like he’d survived skydiving or bungee jumping. What was it she’d said about herself? Something about her father kicking her out of the house when she was young? He couldn’t remember.
Why had he told her all of those things about himself? After all, people had been hounding him to talk since he’d arrived here: Principal Bailey, Uncle John, and even Malini would have loved some info. Why did he pick the one person he feared the most and trusted the least to share his most private thoughts? There was no explanation. Jacob broke out in gooseflesh just thinking about it.
The Laudners’ front door was unlocked and he let himself in. He didn’t mind the rain so much, but he was anxious to put another door between Dr. Silva and himself. Plus, it was cold, Paris cold. In his haste, he almost whacked John, who was standing just inside the door, scowling at a list in his hand.
“Jacob! You’re back. Are you done for the day?” John’s eyes were annoyingly hopeful.
“Yeah, she said we would start next Saturday, so…”
“Probably can’t do much today with the rain and all, huh. So, do you have a few minutes to help me with something?”
“Uh, sure. What is it?”
“Good! I need you to come into town with me. Aunt Carolyn needs some groceries but I have some things to do at the shop. I was hoping you could pick ’em up while I’m working.”
“Sure.” Jacob needed to get his mind off of what had happened with Dr. Silva and he wasn’t excited about hanging out in the house alone with Katrina.
“Let’s take Big Blue.”
Big Blue was a monster of a Chevy with rusted-out wheel wells and robin’s egg blue paint that barely adhered to the metal. The engine was loud and the seats were torn, but John often said, “Still runs great!” Aunt Carolyn refused to ride in it. Jacob guessed that was an added incentive for John to keep it around.
They headed into town on Rural Route One, the uncomfortable silence not overcome by the hum of the engine.
“Have you heard anything about my mom?” he asked.
“Yes and no,” John sighed. “I was trying to find the right time to tell you this. The police have stopped the active investigation. The case is still open but nobody is going out on it anymore.”
“Do you mean they’ve stopped looking for her?” His voice was louder than he’d intended and it filled the small cab.
“I don’t want to upset you, Jacob. The case is still open but they just don’t have any leads. There were no fingerprints and the only blood they found was hers. They are not actively looking because there’s no place left to look … unless more evidence pops up somewhere.”
Jacob had suspected as much. It had been months. But it didn’t make it any easier to hear. “Do you know … can I have what was in her purse? I mean, there were pictures and things in her wallet,” he said, but what he was thinking was that somewhere, near the bottom, there might be a small key: a key that might open up a jewelry box, a box that might hold a clue to her last days. He couldn’t say that to Uncle John though because the box was his mother’s secret, a secret she’d kept even from him, and Jacob would keep it from everyone else, until he knew what it was and if it could help find her.
“I honestly don’t know. I think all of that stuff is locked up as evidence. I’ll ask though.”
John parked in front of a chain of Paris businesses with decorative wooden signage. The town had a policy against electronic or neon signs in favor of hand-painted wood. It was one of the few things Jacob liked about Paris. Another great thing about Paris was that anywhere you parked you could reach everything else within a couple of blocks. That was the end of Jacob’s list of things to like about Paris.
“Meet me at the shop when you’re done,” John said before darting out into the drizzle.
Exiting the truck, Jacob jogged through the rain to Westcott’s grocery. He ducked inside the door and dug into his pocket for Carolyn’s list. Great. Scented hand soap and hair dye along with a bunch of other stuff. This could take a while. John had given him an envelope full of cash for the purchases. The money seemed to get heavier in his pocket and he was tempted to skim a few dollars off the top. He dreaded his next workday with Dr. Silva and any amount would make his time with her shorter. Even as he thought about it, he knew he couldn’t do it. All Jacob had was himself and he knew deep down he wasn’t a thief.
He absent-mindedly thumped and sniffed a cantaloupe. How did you tell if a melon was ripe? He had no idea.
A flash in his peripheral vision brought his head around. He watched her duck behind the dairy section, her hair down today in long layers that fell around her face and down her back. Jacob dropped the melon and turned the corner to follow. She was working her way down the cereal aisle. He pursued, riding the grocery cart like a scooter to make up for lost time. He caught up with her in front of the Cocoa Crispies.
“Malini?”
“Jacob! Hey, it’s good to see you.” She smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Her eyes lit up. “What are you doing here?”
“Shopping for my Aunt Carolyn.” He frowned. “I’m not exactly a pro at this. How do you tell if a cantaloupe is ripe?”
“You’ve come to the right place, actually,” Malini said, taking the list from his hand. “I’m a natural. Leave it to me. You do have money for this?”
“Of course.”
“Good. No problem then.” Malini walked ahead while Jacob pushed the cart.
For some reason, he became concerned about the wrinkles in his shirt and the fact that he’d forgotten to use a comb after falling asleep at Dr. Silva’s. Behind her back, he ran his fingers through his hair, over his face, and down his shirt. Malini’s slender fingers reached for a cantaloupe and he noticed the soft pink crescent of her nails against the silky bronze of her skin. Funny, he’d never noticed before.
“Don’t you have your own shopping to do?” Jacob asked.
“No. Not really.” She blushed. “I sometimes come here when there’s nothing else to do.”
“Don’t be embarrassed. I understand. You don’t like it here either.”
“Not particularly. It’s a bit rural for my taste. I miss the culture of London.”
It came as a sudden surprise to Jacob how little he knew about her personally. He spoke with her every day. They ate lunch together and studied after school. But it seemed like their conversations had hovered around their classes and the people of Paris. He’d neglected to ask Malini about herself.
“Is there anything you like to do here, in your free time?”
“I read, listen to music, that sort of thing. In the summer, I water-ski. I used to play soccer, at my old school. They don’t have a soccer team here.”
“Soccer’s cool. I play soccer.”
“Really?”
“No. Not a lot. I’ve played before but I’m no good.”
She smiled and reached for a roll of paper towels.
“What type of music do you like?” she asked.
“The hard stuff: alternative, metal, rock. It just has to be fa
st and loud.”
“Hmm. Don’t you ever just want to relax?”
“Sometimes, but then I don’t listen to music. You?”
“A little of everything. I just like music that takes me to a different place. If it does that, it doesn’t matter what it is.” She dropped a loaf of bread into the cart and squinted up at him. “What’s your favorite book?”
“I’m not a big reader. You?”
“Silas Marner.”
“What … the classic?”
“Yeah, I know it’s nerdy but it’s my favorite. I just love how Silas ends up with everything he ever wanted even though he never knew he wanted it.” She had stopped shopping and was twisting the list between her fingers. “You really don’t read?”
“For school, that’s about it.”
Malini looked disappointed.
“I’ve read Silas Marner though,” he added quickly. “We had to, for school. And, I liked it. I really did.”
She smiled and continued down the aisle, tossing items into the basket. She had an innate ability to decipher Aunt Carolyn’s cryptic writing and, too soon for Jacob, they were headed toward the checkout.
He watched as Malini unloaded the cart onto the belt. She was wearing form-fitting jeans and a clingy pink sweater that showed off her figure. He wasn’t up on fashion but her outfit seemed like something she’d brought from London. It didn’t fit in here, more like what you’d see on TV or in a big city.
It occurred to Jacob then how beautiful she was. Up until then, he’d thought of her only as a friend, a study partner, and a co-conspirator. Today, though, as the light filtered in through the windows at the front of the store, he felt an odd sort of fluttering in his stomach. He guessed it was because, for the first time, he realized she was a girl.
