by Nancy Werlin
More silence.
"All right," Zach said. "Soledad? What about you? Do you believe this? Yes or no."
"No!" Soledad's voice trembled and then grew shrill. "It can't be! But—but—but I think it doesn't matter what I think, or what anyone else thinks, except Lucy. It's all a mental thing, a psychological thing. Whether or not there is a curse, what we have to do is, we have to break the curse." For some reason, she spoke directly to Zach. "For Lucy's sake, because Lucy believes, even though she doesn't want to. So—so, we will break the curse."
Now she looked at Leo. "We'll just do it. We're her parents. We can figure out how she can do those three tasks. Actually, I've been thinking and I've already got an idea about that seamless shirt. No needlework. You know something? Miranda tried to ask for my help with the seamless shirt. I understand now, but I didn't then. If only she had asked me in a way I could understand, then maybe, eighteen years ago, I could have—but anyway, now …"
Leo took Soledad's hand. She leaned sideways and put her cheek against his shoulder. Her voice grew slower, and thoughtful. "There are genetic predispositions in family lines, medical weaknesses. In olden times, people might have thought of them as curses, but we know now that it's all about genes. We always thought that childbirth and all the stress of her life, all the fear about it, pushed Miranda over the edge. But maybe there's a weakness for schizophrenia in Lucy's family line. You could call it a curse. But really, it's scientifically understandable.
"So, I also think we have to do those three tasks. That is, have Lucy do them. We can figure something out, I'm sure. But I'm also thinking medication. Miranda has always refused, but Lucy wouldn't. Would you, sweetheart? We can just be ready. It's amazing what advances have been made in the treatment of mental illness."
Lucy felt her heart rate speed up. Medication? Schizophrenia?
"Later," Leo said to Soledad gently. "You make some good points. But it's too much right now."
Soledad sighed and nodded.
"I'll count Soledad as a yes," said Zach. "Leo? Yes or no?"
Lucy elbowed Zach hard. "Wait. This isn't a democracy, buddy. I'm the one who's pregnant. Who put you in charge?"
Zach ignored her. "Leo? Yes or no?"
"Yes," said Leo. "And actually, I don't mean psychological or genetic stuff, like Soledad. I just mean yes. I believe in this curse. My gut is screaming at me about it. I don't like that I'm feeling this way, but I am. Maybe it's because of the song. If you read the history of that song, well." He shrugged. "There was always an interpretation that had to do with a malicious elf lord who wanted a human girl, a human girl who said no. Maybe it was this Fenella." He spread his hands. "I'm willing to believe it. No. Actually, I can be stronger than that. I do believe it."
Soledad's head whipped to the side so she could stare. She wasn't the only one. A long moment passed in which Leo looked from Zach to Lucy to Soledad.
"Let's finish the vote," Leo said. A glance at Lucy. "Even though it's not a democracy. Zach? We count you as family. Yes or no?"
"Yes," said Zach simply.
He felt Lucy looking at him. He looked back. Their eyes held for a second. Zach wondered for a moment whether he'd have had this same reaction to Miranda's story if Lucy had not lectured him—could it have been only a few hours ago?—about being her friend. He didn't know. Possibly he would have tried to hold out for disbelief.
But he hoped not.
He added, "If Lucy says yes, then I say yes."
"Four yeses, then," said Leo. "We agree. We don't ignore this; we take it as a serious threat to Lucy."
Beneath the table, Pierre barked. The bark was short, sharp, and somehow impatient. He stuck his head out, emerged, and stalked across the kitchen to the back door He stood there, waiting to be let out.
"Four yeses, one no," Lucy remarked.
Leo and Soledad simultaneously gave out a sort of half laugh, half snort. It was loud, and it was relieved, and it broke the tension and caused Pierre to bark again, indignantly.
All of which meant that neither of them heard it when Zach turned to Lucy in that same second and whispered:
"There's something else you need to know. I'm not just your friend. I am completely in love with you."
CHAPTER 32
Zach saw by the flare of Lucy's eyes that she had heard. Heard and understood. And he saw also that she was surprised, and taken aback, and shocked.
Zach was shocked himself. He had known—and yet he had not. He had certainly not planned to say what he had just said. If he had planned it, he would not have done it here and now. You didn't have to be an experienced lover to know that you don't make your declaration for the first time at the kitchen table in front of the girl's parents and her dog. Let alone in the middle of a crisis for that girl; a crisis so weird and strange that there was almost no way even to understand it, let alone help.
And he didn't care. Exhilaration filled him. He had said it, and it was true, and he knew it was true, that in fact he had never said a truer thing in all his life. He had said it, and he wasn't going to take it back or deny it. It was out there now. Lucy knew. Lucy knew, and he was glad.
Other truths filled him, like clear water filling a glass. He barely managed to keep from saying them all aloud.
I just realized this, just today, just when you told me off. I loved you for that. I can't even tell you how much. I'd kill for you. I'd die for you. I'd be happy forever if you'd only smile at me—although, come to think of it, I wish you'd kiss me. I want to hold you; I want you to hold me. You are so gorgeous I can hardly believe it. You make me laugh; you make me cry. Nothing matters but you. Nothing matters but you. Nothing matters but you.
Nothing matters but you.
There is nothing in this world that I want or need, but you.
You. Lucinda Scarborough. You.
I love you.
CHAPTER 33
Lucy tore her startled gaze away from Zach. She had heard what she had just heard. She had seen in his eyes and his face what she had just seen. But she would figure it out later; she would take it in later; she would somehow later find a way to let him down gently, because she did love him too. She did. Just not in that way. She had never thought of him in that way.
Had she?
But now Leo was talking. Thank God. She could look at Leo as he let Pierre out. She could focus on what Leo was saying as he returned to the kitchen table and sat down again across from her. Maybe it would help her forget her sudden awareness of how close Zach was sitting, his thigh barely an inch away from hers on the kitchen bench, his arm, muscled from the summer's physical labor, tense on the table near hers. That arm made her remember what Zach looked like without his shirt. Maybe Leo could distract her, not only from that, but from the knowledge that Zach was breathing fast, hard … and sitting right next to her. Close. So close.
How could Leo and Soledad not notice? How could anyone be in this room and not feel Zach's intensity channeling through him like water pounding through a dam?
But they were looking at Lucy. And now Zach was leaning forward—she didn't have to see it to know it; she felt it. It was so strange. It was as if she suddenly had a kind of Zach-radar; she was aware of everything he did. He was angling slightly away from her. She could tell he was trying his best, like her, to refocus on Leo.
"I see several prongs of attack for us," Leo was saying, "and most of them involve research we have to do. The first is the most basic and obvious. Genealogical. I want to research Lucy's family line. Let's see if we can find birth records for Miranda, and for Miranda's mother and grandmother—as far back as we can. Maybe even as far as Fenella—let's call her Fenella Scarborough. Though I doubt we'll get anywhere near her; I don't think the records will go back more than a few generations. And let's also look for medical records. If we can find out that, say, Miranda was born when her mother was thirty-two, well, that changes things. If we can simply disprove what Miranda says …"
"Then the whole issue just
goes away?" Zach asked. "We can dismiss Miranda's diary as pure lunacy?" His voice sounded a little hoarse, Lucy thought, but basically normal. Leo didn't seem to notice anything different about it.
"Maybe not completely dismiss it," Leo said. "But reevaluate. Be less anxious." He turned to Lucy. "How would it make you feel, Lucy, if we were to find historical proof that—well, that—"
"That I don't actually come from a long line of teenage madwomen?" It was interesting. Lucy was hyperaware of Zach, but she could set it aside, into its own place, hold the awareness in parallel and still function well. More than well. In fact, she almost felt an extra pulse of power, as if Zach's declaration was making her stronger.
"Yes," said Leo. "Would that be reassuring information?"
Lucy thought about it. "Yes. I don't think I'd feel completely reassured, but it would make a difference." She paused. "Wow. Even thinking about that … can we really find out those things? Trace my family that way?"
"Maybe," Leo said. "I don't know a lot about it, and I'm guessing that it'll be tricky. But there are people who specialize in tracing genealogy."
"And then there's the medical records search," Soledad said. "I'll have resources through the hospital to make that easier."
Leo was nodding. "Yes, I thought you'd volunteer for that part."
"I'd like to at least start the genealogical stuff," Zach said. "I'm good online, and if I don't get somewhere fast, I'll find us someone who can."
Leo nodded. "Excellent. All right. So, that's phase one and two: genealogical and medical. My third thought—which also involves research—is about the ballad itself. In fact, I already started this research myself, this afternoon."
"When you went out?" asked Soledad.
"Yes. We need to find out all we can about 'The Elfin Knight,' or 'Scarborough Fair.' We know it has several different names, according to Francis Child, and that there are several different versions beneath each of the different names. And the versions are all associated with multiple origins and ancestries that can possibly be traced. Or possibly not."
"Sounds similar to genealogical research," said Zach. And then—Lucy couldn't believe it—Zach simply reached over and took her hand in his. Right in front of Soledad and Leo.
He held her hand lightly, as if it were nothing. He did not even look at her. His voice stayed even as his palm came against hers and his fingers interlaced with her fingers. As his inner forearm aligned its bare length right along hers.
All light. Easy. On the surface, a gesture of simple support.
Lucy's whole body went rigid with shock. Or—or something.
She could pull away. She could squeeze Zach's hand gently and then pull away. He'd understand what she was doing, what she meant, if she did that.
But no. She couldn't pull away. It would be rude. It would be, it would be, well, why should she? This was fine. Fine. Zach was her friend. They could hold hands. It felt, it felt—
Nice.
It felt—oh. There was his pulse. Zach's pulse. His wrist was right against hers. She could feel it.
And his hand was saying it again. His palm was saying it, the skin of his forearm was saying it, and his pulse was saying it. Again and again and again. That thing he had said before. And now, now, she couldn't think so well …
And Leo was still talking.
Focus. This was important. This was vital to her!
"Yes, exactly," Leo said. "Luckily, I'm qualified to follow up on the folklore."
"I'll want to look at that ballad closely too," Soledad said. "I want to read the different versions, and all the commentary. We all should. We need to understand this forward and backward. We need to take that ballad apart like we're studying the Bible. We need to know everything about it. And I also meant what I said earlier, about trying to make the shirt."
Leo nodded. "That'll be attack prong number four. We'll assume there's a curse, and we'll do what the ballad tells us to try to break it. It'll be like figuring out a puzzle."
"All right," Soledad said. "You're the general." Lucy watched while her parents looked at each other. She sneaked a look—just for an instant—at Zach.
He was looking at her too.
For just a second she simply could not breathe. She had to look away. She'd have pulled her hand away too, if she could have. She sent the instruction to it: Brain to hand, pull away!
But her hand did not obey. Instead, it sort of moved, a little bit, back and forth, against Zach's …
"So what's next?" Soledad was asking.
"I'll go through all the ballad versions and look for any that seem curse-like," Leo said. "I know there are others. And I'll research the origins and possible meanings of the curse version and any related curse stories."
Lucy had regained control of her mind, although not her hand. This was her life, after all, and she needed to pay attention. Her hand could do what it pleased, meanwhile. Her arm too. That was fine. Fine. She said to Leo, "I had those thoughts too, when I first read what Miranda wrote. You'll see if anybody knows Miranda's version of the ballad, or one like it?"
"Yes, exactly. And I'll speak with professional folklorists too."
They sat in thoughtful silence for a few moments. Then Zach said, "So, is that our whole plan? Genealogical research, medical research, folklore research, and then looking at the ballad and trying to actually break the curse, assuming there is one?"
"We should also try to find Miranda," Leo said. "Maybe hire a private detective. It could be that if we asked her direct questions about this, maybe even showed her what she wrote, she'd be able to answer or somehow give us information."
Soledad nodded.
More silence. Lucy watched Soledad look at Leo, and Leo look at Soledad.
"There's one more thing," said Soledad. "And it has to be said." She drew a deep breath. "You're only at fourteen weeks, Lucy. It's actually not too late to get an abortion."
Inside her, Lucy's mind—body—soul—screamed. My daughter. It was not a rational reaction. It had nothing to do with the rational. It did have something to do with the letter from Miranda she'd just read. I like you already, Miranda had written.
Lucy kept holding Zach's hand. She felt him holding hers. Their pulses were beating together now.
"No," she said.
She was prepared for a battle, but it didn't happen.
Soledad reached across the table and took Lucy's other hand, "I had to say that. You understand."
"Yes," said Lucy. "I understand. I even think it makes sense. But I can't."
There was a pause.
"All right, then." Soledad was choking on her words, but not actually crying. "I wish you would. I have to say that. I so wish you would. But all right. We'll fight this out the other way. All the way."
"Thank you," Lucy said. "Thank you, Mom." She looked at Leo and said it directly to him too. "Thank you, Dad." And then she turned to Zach.
"Thank you."
And she felt Zach's hand tighten on hers.
CHAPTER 34
As the next days passed, Zach was aware that their roles had reversed. Now it was Lucy avoiding him. At least, she'd been avoiding him as much as you could avoid someone who lived in your house, used the same bathroom, and sat next to you at dinner. They saw each other all the time. It was just that, somehow, he was never alone with her.
He hadn't confronted her about it, though, or tried to make her talk to him. Lucy's avoidance didn't feel hostile, just … careful. That was okay with Zach, for now. He knew he'd surprised her with his declaration at the family meeting. Fair enough. He'd surprised himself.
Also, although she was avoiding him, he didn't feel hopeless. Not at all. Lucy never met his eyes for more than a microsecond, but he could feel that she was still somehow watching. That was all right, he thought. Let her watch. Let her think.
Let her remember what it had felt like, the night of the family meeting, when they sat side by side at the kitchen table and held hands. Because he could swear that, a
t that moment, she hadn't been indifferent.
Zach wasn't really sure what to do next anyway, now that he'd declared himself—especially during the daylight hours when it was easy to believe that The Other Weird Stuff was purely imaginary—he thought that simply giving Lucy some space and time wasn't a bad idea. Lucy had a baby's birth to prepare for and many serious decisions to make, since the plan was for her to keep the baby, finish high school, and enroll in college with no more than a year's delay.
Plus, she'd been raped. It scared Zach even to consider what that might mean. Thinking way, way ahead—but he couldn't help it—if he ever got a chance with her, would he be able to handle whatever fears she might have about men, about sex? It wasn't as if he would have much of an idea what he was doing. Would they need, like, a battalion of therapists to work things out? The thought was so very not-sexy that Zach decided to shelve it, even theoretically, until at least Lucy had figured out how to be alone in the same room with him again.
And all this was before he even began thinking about the complications introduced by The Other Weird Stuff.
For a week or so after the family meeting, Zach had begun again to wonder if The Other Weird Stuff was some group hallucination or madness of Miranda's that he and Leo and Soledad and Lucy had all gotten sucked into. He'd be at the pizza place getting a slice for lunch, and the sheer insanity of it all would sweep over him. And then he'd come home and see the little experiments with felt and wool that Soledad was conducting in her attempt to work out exactly how a shirt could be constructed without needle or seam. Or he'd go down to the basement and find Leo strumming and singing various versions of "The Elfin Knight" on his guitar, and then writing down questions to ask other folklorists. Or he'd walk past Lucy's room and see her lying on her bed, Pierre blissful beside her, as she read Miranda's diary for the umpteenth time. And he'd think: We formed the Fellowship of the Ring when we should've all just gone on medication.
But then, with the help of the research librarian in charge of genealogy at the Waltham Public Library, Zach found Lucy's grandmother. And great-grandmother. And great-great-grandmother.
