Waiting For The Moon Part 14

Else why would Maeve be here in the middle of the night, alone, her nightdress stained with silvery tears?

Maybe only Selena knew what the darkness felt like, knew how cold and lonely it felt to be lost inside yourself. If that was true, then only she could help Maeve.

Selena felt the first tug of a smile.

She could help Maeve the way Ian had helped her.

And maybe then they'd both feel less alone.

Whack. Whack. Whack.

Selena came awake slowly. At first she thought the strange, pounding beat was in her head, some remnant from another unremembered dream, but gradually she realized that the noise was real.

She pressed up to her elbows and scanned the room quickly, noticing the chair and commode were in their rightful places. The limp white curtains shimmied against the plaster wall.

119.

Selena pushed back the heavy coverlet and went to the window, shoving the curtains out of the way.

A florid-faced older man peered at her through the window. Surprise widened his black eyes at the sight of her. "Holy h.e.l.l!" he wheezed, spitting nails from his thick lips.

She frowned. He was standing on something ... a ladder. She tried to ask him what he was doing, floating out there in front of her window, but the only words she could form were, "Sky blue . . . standing."

He shook his head and reached into his pocket for another nail. "Poor thing. Ye're crazy as a bedbug, jest as the missus said."

Selena watched as he withdrew a thick iron bar from a bucket hanging from the ladder's uppermost rung.

He pressed the bar in front of her window and began hammering it in place.

That's when she noticed the other two bars on the left side of the gla.s.s. A dim sense of panic started.

They were locking her in, taking away her only picture of the world outside. She scrambled for the bottom of the sash window and shoved the gla.s.s up. It hit the housing with a crack.

His head snapped up. "What in the h.e.l.l .. ."

She stared at him, her mouth gaped open, her heart thudding in her chest. She didn't want to be locked in, didn't want to be an animal in a dark box, all alone. She had so much to do, so much to see out there.

"What . . ." Nothing else would come out. She heard the query in her mind, circling endlessly, increasing her panic, but she couldn't release it. What are you doing? Why are you locking me in?

"Puttin' bars on the window, miss. Ye'll still be able to see out. Ye jest can't get out."

Selena shook her head, searching frantically for the words she needed. "No. Thank you ... please."

"Doctor's orders, miss. I was supposed to do it days

120.

ago, but I forgot. Last night the missus got on me but good. Seems ye thought about jumpin'."

She frowned. "Bottle ... But ..."

"It's to keep ye safe. Doctor always bars the windows."

Selena didn't understand each word, but she understood the old man's point. Doctor. Ian had ordered the bars to be put on the windows to protect Selena. Not to keep her in, but to keep her safe.

It made her suddenly sad. Ian didn't understand her any more than she understood him most of the time.

He was afraid she'd jump out of the window and kill herself. But she'd already learned that lesson. She understood that she could be hurt, that she could fall and break her b.l.o.o.d.y neck.

Last night she hadn't been able to communicate her understanding, though, and they'd all thought she didn't see the peril. They thought she was crazy and stupid. And brain-damaged. She remembered when she'd first heard those words from Ian. There had been such hopelessness in his voice, such regret. She understood that, too, now. He didn't want her to be damaged. He wanted her to be whole and pretty.

She swallowed hard. They were the two things she would never be. She knew she was ugly; she'd almost accepted that. But she didn't want to be so broken that she had to live here forever, locked in a room with bars on the windows. Alone.

She turned away from the window, let the curtain flutter back into place. Hugging herself, she paced around the small room, finally slumping onto her bed. A small, nagging pain pinched her chest.

She was used to that pain. She'd carried it around with her from the moment Ian turned away from her.

All he saw was the outside, the ugliness and the failure and the frustration. He didn't see her at all.

She sighed. She was so tired of feeling lost and alone, afraid. And she sensed she'd lived this way for a 121.

very long time. Whenever she tried to remember life before Ian, all she felt was a lingering sorrow. As if she'd been sad for two lifetimes.

No more. The words slipped into her mind, gathering force. At first she didn't really understand what they meant; they were simply words. Then, all at once, she knew. Her heart was speaking to her, loudly, with a clarity she hadn't known before. Her heart and soul were tired of the sadness, the sorrow, the tears.

And she was tired of this room, of breathing but not really living, of waiting for other people to give her opportunities. It was time to make herself happy.

She had to do things for herself, had to learn about the world on her own. She had already figured out everything this room had to teach her-commode, bed, quilt, window, pitcher, water, basin.

Now she needed to get out and explore the world.

What first?

Dress.

She smiled at the ease with which she retrieved the information. Leaning forward, she grabbed the gown off the chair beside her bed. The slippery rust-colored fabric felt soft and wonderful against her rough-skinned hands.

Silk. She was thrilled at how quickly the word came to her. The moment she touched the fabric, she knew what it was called. Silk. She focused all of her mind on trying to say the single word. "Tree." She frowned. No. Not correct. She refused to give up, she tried again and again. Minutes ticked by, slowly, irritatingly.

"Broom. Clock. Silk."

She grinned. It had taken time-but what was time? She wasn't stupid. She wasn't.

All she needed was help. Just a little. But who could help her? Maeve was lost and Ian was gone.

The answer came to her so suddenly, she wondered why she hadn't seen it before.

She leapt off the bed and ran for the door, pounding

122.

on the hard wood. She wanted to yell for Andrew, but the words wouldn't come.

She stopped when she heard footsteps outside her door. "Selena, is that you?" came a soft, male voice.

"Andrew?" Unlock the door. I need your help. She tried to force out the words. "Help ... Selena."

The doork.n.o.b turned. Selena stumbled back just as the door swung open. Outside, in the shadowy hallway, stood a cl.u.s.ter of people. Edith, Maeve, the queen. And Andrew was in the middle.

"What is it, la.s.sie?" Edith said, breathing heavily, wiping her fleshy hands on the floury front of her ap.r.o.n.

Selena knew what she meant to ask for, but she couldn't find the words. The minutes ticked by, slowly, thickened by the breathing of the crowd. Selena closed her eyes and stamped her foot in frustration.

"Help," she managed.

"It's all right, Selena," Andrew said. "Take your time."

Selena clasped her hands together and stared at him, trying to draw strength from his quiet acceptance.

"Basket." She shook her head. "No. Not ... Selena ... stupid. Sick."

Edith clucked. "Poor wee thing. Her brains are scrambled."

Maeve looked up, her eyes gla.s.sy. "Eggs would be nice, Edith. Thank you. Be sure and ask the master if he's hungry."

"Do hush, you two," Andrew said harshly. "Can't you see that she's trying to tell us something?" He moved closer, encouraging her with a nod. "Go on."

Selena pointed to her head, then to her mouth. "Broken." At Andrew's blank look, she repeated the gesture and tried a different word. "Hard."

Maeve nodded. "It's hard for all of us to speak our minds sometimes. Isn't it, Herbert?" she said to the stuffed owl in her arms.

123.

Andrew made a quiet, gulping sound of excitement. "Is that what you're trying to say, Selena?"

Selena nodded, grinning. "Yes. Think ... good. No ... talk. Help .. . Selena?"

Andrew's smile fell. "We can't help you, Selena. We're crazy."

The queen rapped him sharply on the back of the head. "Speak for yourself, young man. Royalty is over-bred, not crazy. I've got plenty of things I could teach the chit."

Selena tried to follow the queen's speech, but couldn't. Instead, she reached for the children's book and pressed it to her chest. "Read. Learn." She pointed to the window. "Outside ... see. Learn words."

Andrew gazed at her, frowning. "You don't care if we're crazy?"

She gave him a smile and reached forward, touching his fuzzy chin with her hand. "Not crazy."

Andrew smiled unsteadily. Tears glistened in his eyes.

The queen shook her head. "Oh, Jesus, the pup's gonna start bawling."

He wiped his eyes. "I'll help you, Selena." He turned back to the gray-clad people behind him. "What do you say, lunatics? We can teach Selena everything about life. It'll give Dr. Carrick a mighty surprise when he returns."

"Dr. Carrick don't seem particularly fond o" surprises," Edith said with a frown.

The crowned lady snorted and placed her fat hands on her hips. "And just who gives a s.h.i.t about that?"

Andrew struggled with a smile. "Then it's decided. We'll teach Selena everything she needs to know about life."

Edith rolled her eyes. "Oh, Lord. Don't the poor child have problems enough?"

Chapter Eleven.

"I think she should get dressed first." Queen Victoria peered at Selena from behind a cracked, dusty monocle. "Clothes are the window to the soul."

Edith frowned. "They are? I thought-"

"Please don't," the queen interrupted. "You're giving me a frightful head."

Selena watched Edith and the queen talk back and forth. Every now and then she understood a word or two-dressed, window, head. She couldn't quite put it all together, but she could feel herself getting closer.

The words were coming with less effort; she was understanding more. Ian had been gone for two sunrises-she was sure of that-and with each new day, she felt herself getting stronger.

She could remember their names effortlessly now. There was Lara, the child-woman who sucked her thumb and wanted a family; Andrew, the earnest young man with the shaking hands and hopeful eyes; Queen Victoria, who spoke in a strange voice that vibrated with self-confidence; Edith, the housekeeper, who almost always seemed angry with the others. Sometimes the quiet one, Dotty, flitted through her room before disappearing into a closet or armoire.

"Where is Maeve?" Selena said suddenly. A stunned silence fell over the jumble of conversation.

124.

125.

"Sweet Mary," Edith said, pressing her pudgy hand to her gaping mouth.

It took Selena a moment to realize what had taken place. She'd spoken her thoughts in a clear, understandable way-and she'd done it without a moment's hesitation.