Waiting For The Moon Part 10

I'll be good, she thought. Don't leave me. Leaning forward, like a good girl, she took another sip of the flavorless stew.

Maeve's smile returned, filling Selena with immediate relief. She brought a cold hand to Selena's face, pressed it to her cheek. "And don't worry, child. I won't leave you if you're bad." Maeve looked away suddenly. Her pale lips trembled slightly. "I know how much that hurts."

Later, long after the tasteless food had been eaten, long after she'd watched Ian's carriage disappear into the darkness of the night, Selena lay in bed with the covers drawn to her neck. The room was dark, so dark. She wished they'd left her a candle, a lantern, anything that would cut through the blackness and make her feel less alone.

But they hadn't trusted her. She'd understood enough of their too fast conversation to know that. Edith had been afraid she'd burn herself again, or torch the b.l.o.o.d.y house.

She twisted slightly and stared up at the window. The gla.s.s sheet seemed to hang suspended in the darkness, lit for a glorious second by a trembling wash of moonlight.

The light was gone almost before it came, and the blackness swallowed her again. For a strange, elongated moment, it seemed as if she'd disappeared altogether, or perhaps had never existed at all. She lay there, breathing hard, trying not to cry, waiting for another shimmer of light.

None came. A brief wind grazed the window, made the gla.s.s shudder. The night seemed suddenly filled with noise, when only moments before it had been too quiet. She heard footsteps shuffling back and forth behind her locked bedroom door, heard a dull ebb and flow of voices. Frightened, she huddled beneath the protective coverlet.

84.

Nameless, faceless people, just outside her door. They were out there, talking, walking, laughing, whispering. It made her feel even more isolated, more ugly and stupid and alone.

"Help ... me," she murmured to the strangers, but her voice was weak and reedy, even to her own ears.

"Please ..."

But there was no answer, not even a break in the murmur of their voices. She listened to the restless shuffling of their feet and wanted so badly to join them, but she didn't belong with them and she had nothing to say. All she had was this empty room with its one window to the world.

She eased the heavy quilt back and got to her feet, feeling her way along the b.u.mpy painted walls to the window. Just then a cloud broke free of its moorings and drifted across the distant half-moon. Pale, bluish light slid through the pane and cast an eerie glow in the darkness.

A tree shivered outside, the branches creaked. Tiny black leaves studded the stark limbs, reminding her suddenly that it was spring, the time of year when life began anew. But not hers. She was different, somehow, shut off from the world. So alone in the dark room.

If only he'd come back. If only he hadn't left.

Didn't he understand? Didn't he care that he was all she had? That without him, the world was a frighten-ingly strange place, cold and lonely and empty?

As she'd lain in her bed all those weeks, nestled in the bowels of some unimaginable darkness, her head pounding, her throat on fire, she'd known that Ian was there. She heard his voice, felt his touch. He'd coaxed her back from the pain-riddled void. It was for him that she'd finally opened her eyes.

Outside, the night beckoned in a thousand twisting, moving shadows. She wanted to be out there where Ian was, wanted it so badly she felt desperate.

She needed to experience life beyond the gla.s.s, to

85.

smell the unknown scent of the rain and feel the forgotten kiss of the wind. To be a part of something.

The gla.s.s was so deceptively thin. So easily broken. So easily .. .

Break the gla.s.s ... touch the world . .. The outside beckoned in a sly, seductive voice.

She drew her hand back and made a fist.

No. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew that it was dangerous to break gla.s.s. She would be hurt.

What she needed was to open the window.

She smiled, remembering suddenly how to do it. She twisted the little metal paddle and pushed the lower half of the window up. It creaked loudly, sc.r.a.ping as if it hadn't been moved in ages. An icy blast of wind hurled through the opening and slapped her cheeks.

She laughed in triumph. The world smelled so wonderful, so fresh and clean. Rain splattered her face in big droplets. She closed her eyes and let herself experience the moment-the taste, the smells, the sensations: sweet, sweet rain, cool, inviting wind that smelled like salt and wet earth. The trees whistled, waves smacked against hulking, black rocks.

She planted her hands on the wooden sill and stuck her head outside, breathing deeply. The secret, sensual world embraced her, filled her with a heady sense of possibility. It was all out there. Everything she'd ever wanted, ever would want.

Waiting for her .. .

She climbed onto the sill. Her white lawn nightdress stretched taut from her collar to her knees. The wind picked up, whipped through her tangled hair and stung her cheeks. The tight fabric of her gown fluttered in a quiet, thumping beat. For the first time since waking up, she felt alive. She licked the cold raindrops from her lower lip and shook her head.

Behind her, the bedroom lock clicked, the door squeaked open. "Sweet Mary!" someone cried out.

86.

Footsteps thundered toward Selena. Light split the darkness. "Don't jump-you'll kill yourself."

Kill yourself. Selena felt a sharp, sudden chill at the words. She looked down. The lawn was a small, black patch two floors below. She knew suddenly that she could fall, could be hurt, but she hadn't thought of that before.

A hand curled around her wrist, steadied her. "You're okay, Selena." The man's voice was squeaky and weak. As if she wasn't okay at all.

Slowly, afraid now to fall, she turned around, and found herself staring into a concerned pair of pale gray eyes.

"I'm Andrew," he said quietly. "Do you remember me?"

She didn't remember him. Not him, and not any of the shadowy people cl.u.s.tered just beyond the door, but that didn't matter. What mattered was the warm, solid feel of his fingers around her wrist. What mattered was that someone had finally come for her, had touched her and seemed to care if she was okay or not.

She tried to answer him, but nothing came. It was as if some part of her brain had simply gone to sleep.

Frustrated, she leaned toward him. Help me, she thought, please . .. help me. . . . The silent plea filled her heart. Her chest ached with the need to speak, and still the words were beyond her.

The boy, Andrew, touched her damp cheek and gave her a sad, understanding smile. "It can be very lonely here."

He curled an arm around her shoulders and drew her off the ledge. Closing the window with one hand, he helped her back to the bed. When he'd retrieved the lamp and placed it on the bedside table, he turned to the open doorway and said, "Come on in, everyone. She's fine."

Gray-clad people moved into the room in a slow, shuffling procession. Selena recognized the red-haired

87.

woman-Maeve-and the thumb-sucking girl. Behind them was a fat, wrinkly-faced woman who wore a tarnished crown on her graying hair. The three women formed a semicircle at the foot of the bed.

Andrew knelt before her. A lock of dark blond hair fell across one eye, and he brushed it back impatiently. "We know how lonely it can be here ... how frightening your first days can be. But we wanted you to know that you aren't alone." He got to his feet and backed up. "Go ahead, ladies."

The crowned woman stepped forward and thrust a small, perfectly rounded gray rock in Selena's hand.

"That's a worry rock, subject. When you're scared or lonely or worried, you rub it between your thumb and forefinger." She yanked it back and demonstrated. "Like this." Then she tossed the rock into Selena's lap and scuttled out of the way.

Selena stared down at the rock, too surprised for a moment to respond. The word she needed came effortlessly this time. This strange woman had given Selena a gift.

It was a thing that friends did. That family did.

"Go ahead, Lara," Andrew said.

The girl-Lara-came to the bed next and drew a tattered rag doll from behind her back. The fabric was slashed along the doll's gingham-sheathed chest, revealing a swatch of quilting, and one black b.u.t.ton eye was missing. A few fuzzy strands of red yarn remained on the back of its head.

The girl withdrew her thumb and stared steadily down at Selena. "Sarah," she said in a slurred voice, and popped her thumb back in her mouth.

Selena took Sarah carefully. The ragged toy was soft and comforting. Instinctively she brought it to her chest and rocked it gently against her breast. Lara gave her a wide, gap-toothed grin, and Selena knew she'd done the right thing.

Maeve c.o.c.ked her head toward a heap of rust-colored

88.

silk. "I brought you a gown. Edith will alter it to fit you."

Finally, Andrew returned to the bed and knelt once again in front of her. The women shuffled in close behind him. He withdrew a small, rectangular thing from the waistband of his pants. "This is a children's book. I thought perhaps you would enjoy looking at the drawings."

Selena took the thing reverently, smoothed her hand across the tooled leather surface. For long seconds, she just stared down at it in awe. It was a most exquisite gift. Then Andrew gently eased it open.

Immediately words popped out at her: Cat. Dog. Me. And. Home.

Once, she'd known how to read. The knowledge stunned her, filled her with an almost giddy sense of discovery.

She swallowed hard, looked down at Andrew. The honest concern in his eyes gave her a new strength.

This man wouldn't laugh at her, wouldn't get disgusted with her inability to speak and her lack of knowledge about the world. He was a gentle soul, this one, and he knew what it meant to be lonely and afraid.

Maybe he could help her, teach her to be smart enough to bring Ian back.

She wet her lips, trying to dredge up the words to ask for help. "Fancy . .. goods." The words slipped out; she had no idea what they meant, but she knew that they were wrong. She frowned, concentrating as hard as she could, so hard the headache started to pulse at the back of her skull. She felt the quiet stares of the people around the bed, but there was no disgust, no judgments being made. They were simply waiting for her to speak.

"Red," she blurted. No. Not right, but close. "Read." She pointed down at Andrew. "You ... me ... read."

"Y-You want me to read to you?"

"No," she managed, shaking her head, unable to say more. I want you to help me to read. The sentence turned through her mind in a ceaseless, frustrating

89.

rhythm. She tried hopelessly to bring the words forth, to form the simple request, but it was impossible.

Mute and frustrated, she stared down at Andrew. He stared up at her, a helpless, pathetic frown on his face. "I don't understand. You want me to read to you?"

"Of course she wants you to read to her, Andrew," Maeve declared at last. "We all do."

Lara nodded wildly and clambered up on the bed beside Selena. Within moments, all five of them were settled in the comforting softness of the bed.

The young man-already Selena had forgotten his name--started to read. The quiet, sweet-sounding words washed through Selena, and each one sparked an image, a memory of meaning. Rabbit. Wagon.

Sun. Family.

Then, very softly, Maeve slipped her fingers through Selena's. The touch was gentle and soothing and comforting.

Selena glanced around her, at the faces drawn so close to hers, and felt an incredible tenderness swell in her heart. These people, whose names she couldn't remember for more than a few moments, had given her more than their unexpected gifts. They made her feel safe and cared for.

"Selena .. ." she said, searching for the other words she needed.

Andrew paused in his reading and looked at her. She felt all their eyes on her.

"Selena's . . . family," she managed finally.

The thumb-sucking girl-Lara-gasped. She slowly withdrew her thumb from her mouth and gazed at Selena, her gray eyes glistening with sudden tears. Selena remembered the word for that look.