by Margs Murray
Enzo shook his head and checked his cubox. “Twenty-six hours, not counting our time at the opera.”
“That’s insane,” I said, and I meant it.
“I had a job to do.” Enzo leaned his lanky body against a black slick- looking vehicle called a Traverse.
“How in the world am I going to fit all of that in this month?”
Manon and Enzo both looked at me. They spoke at the same time. “You aren’t.”
“I’m not what?” I asked, walking along the black car, tracing my finger on the cool, spotless metal. I decided not to keep my summer plans a secret. “I’m on going back as soon as I speak to Bollard. I have college to think about.”
“College?” This confused Manon. “You are a princess.”
“I know but I still need an education. It’s just...” They said nothing, although I wished they would interrupt me. “I don’t belong here.”
“But you do. The country needs you.” Enzo held on to the car for support. He needed me too. I was his job.
Manon looked confused. “What can a college offer that you cannot get here?”
“I miss my family,” I argued.
“But here you have so much family you’ve yet to meet,” Manon said.
“And then there is Sasha, my friend. I miss her too.”
“She can visit.” Enzo took out his cubox. “I can set it up right now. I can schedule her; just name the time. We can get her right now, and your family too.”
“No!“ My response surprised me. It was out of nowhere, but in my gut, I sensed that their coming here would endanger them. I shook it off. “Sorry, they’re all swamped with life in general.”
Enzo stood up and put his arm around me. “And so are you. You are very busy too; you just don’t know it yet. When you get into the swing of things, I’m sure you will want to stay. Especially when you find out about the meeting.”
“Meeting? What meeting?”
Enzo’s smile fell. “The book about your grandmother. Her fifth event was a meeting with the heads of industry. I’ve worked all afternoon arranging matters. It took some work but, in a month, you will have a private audience with the royal court, and this includes Bianca Merric, The Queen of America and your cousin. She is most eager to finally meet you.”
“A royal audience so soon?” Manon said. “She is difficult to meet. It took me years to meet her.”
“The whole family will be there.”
“Lady Poppy?” I asked.
“She is a lesser royal,” Manon explained. “She will be there, I am sure, but she has little in common with the royal family. Perhaps it is her age.”
Enzo smiled a wicked little smile. “Many years ago, she had a disagreement with the other royals. You should hear what they say about her.”
“Really?” I wondered if this was why she faked being deaf. I didn’t know Lady Poppy well, but I had liked her enough.
“Bollard will be there and so will Lord Fitzner and Duchess Bridgetta. All your living relatives.”
“And Claudette too?” I noticed my other new cousin was missing from the list.
Manon and Enzo exchanged looks. Enzo forced a smile and said, “Of course.”
Manon must have noticed how heavy the conversation was getting, and she sought to rally the moment. “Do not worry, Waverly. You will have a wonderful time. The queen’s royal court will be there, including all the queen’s men.”
“Oh, and Henry Cloverfield will be there,” Enzo added.
“Cloverfield?” I had heard the name multiple times in the past few days. “Everyone is always talking about that guy.”
“He was supposed to meet you last night. He is the head representative for the merchants and nearly as hard to pin down as the queen.” Manon said. “How did you get ahold of him, Enzo?”
“He requested the visit. It’s providence. Out of the blue, I was making calls to the others, and Cloverfield called.”
Manon’s eyes were enormous. “He is a very busy man.”
“Busier with the ladies than official business,” Enzo said.
Manon swatted at Enzo’s arm. “Shush. You’ll make Waverly dislike him before they meet, and he is a good person to have as your friend. Very powerful.”
“Is there anything else I can help you with?” Enzo asked.
Find the necklace, find the words.
“There is, in fact.” When I said it, Enzo smiled, ready for the challenge. I held my hand up for him to see. “My grandmother had a necklace that matched this ring. I need to find it.”
“A real challenge,” Enzo said. “I shall find it; you have my word.” He left us, and his step was a little lighter.
Chapter 12
Dance in the Dark
After the tour, Manon came back to my room. As soon as she entered, I saw she was upset. She huffed and made a v-line for my stack of presents. “Waverly, you have not opened your gifts; all those guests got these presents for you. Bollard, too. You must open them, please.”
I had no desire to open gifts, and I wasn’t sure why she cared. “I can do it later tonight.”
Manon went over to the pile. “Here, you will at least open this one. It’s from me. Chocolates.”
“Thank you.” I put the box down, only to have Manon snag it and hand it back.
“You must try these. They are the best chocolates in the world. The Cloverfield family was nothing before these. Three generations later and the Cloverfields are the lead producers for food in the country. You are meeting the owner soon, and you need to eat these first. Very expensive.”
I’d never been a huge chocolate fan. I liked it okay, but it was really a ‘sometimes and only if I was in the mood’ kind of food for me, but I could tell Manon was going nowhere until I sampled, so I popped one into my mouth.
My life changed! Every taste bud in my mouth exploded in delight. I was in love. It ruined my life and heart. When I finally met this Cloverfield fellow, I would beg for his hand in marriage and have him spend the rest of his life making chocolates. No wonder he had women throwing themselves at him.
“I’ll give you a moment with the chocolates. The rest of the gifts are as good. I must get ready for tonight. I am performing in Boston. Now, open your presents. I will see you tomorrow.”
“You’re leaving?” I had had fun walking about with Manon. To be honest, I was done with sitting alone in my room.
“I will be around,” she said.
I sat in my room for another ten minutes, staring at the presents and demolishing the box of chocolates. It had been a decent day, and while I still missed my family, I was mentally in a much better place. Enzo was on the case, and I was confident he’d help me find the necklace. Next time I saw Doc I planned to discuss Grandma. Meanwhile, I decided to visit the best room in L’Autre Bête.
A ballroom needs to be danced in; this was a simple fact. I flung open the doors. If ever I had a princess fantasy, this room was it. I shut the door behind me. I kicked off my shoes and did what any reasonable person does in such a situation; I ran and slid right into the middle of the room. A song played in my head, and I danced. I spun, I leapt. As if I was alone in my bedroom, I danced every move I knew without fear of judgement. I caught my reflection in the window, my skirt swirling behind me. Not graceful or beautiful but I didn’t care. I was having too much fun. I changed dancing styles, and I was a girl from a musical so hopelessly in love all I wanted to do was dance.
This room should be mine, I thought. All mine. I’d dance here every day. Forget everything Enzo had planned, operas and dinners. I’d live right there. Forget filling the room, let it stay forever empty. I’d roll out a sleeping bag at night, roll it up when I wasn’t using it, and dance the rest of the time away.
The music changed in my head to a waltz, and I stopped in the middle of the floor and put my hand to my heart.
“Prince of France, would you care to dance?” I gave a little curtsy. “Why not? I believe you know my grandmother.” I lifted my hand for h
im to take. “Such a gentleman.” I followed him to the dance floor and pirouetted.
We began our waltz, one, two three, one, two three. “You recognize the ring? Well, yes, it is now a family heirloom.”
One, two, three, one, two, three. In my mind, I saw the back of the ordinary head. One, two three, one, two three. The ordinary head turned around, a shadow obscuring his face. One, two three, one, two three. I spun on the floor and suddenly the perfect head wasn’t in my mind. He was standing in the ballroom’s doorway, shadow covering his face.
For a second, I closed my eyes from sheer embarrassment and heard nothing but my breathing. When I opened my eyes, he wasn’t at the door. There was no way the man could have disappeared that fast without making a sound. I must’ve merely imagined he was in the doorway because I felt no calmer. If it were him, I would’ve felt better. Still, the dance spell was broken for the day as I realized how ridiculous I must have looked to anyone passing by. I grabbed my shoes and bolted out the nearest door.
I expected to exit to the hallway, so it surprised me to find myself in a long, open gallery. Manon must have missed this room on our tour. A nearby painting showed a crowd of people bowing to a woman with gray eyes who was being crowned queen. Coronation of Queen Mathilde Ana Merric, 1845. The next painting over was Queen Charlotte Alice from 1878. Same gray eyes. A gray-eyed man surrounded by a pack of dogs of varying breeds followed this painting. Regent Drenthe Merric 1872. The Merric‘s had filled the whole room with portraits of the family. The women were all pictured with their husbands and families. The male Merrics posed with animals.
The door opened, and Doc came into the room. He didn’t notice me. He went directly to a painting halfway into the room.
I went over to him. “Hello, Doc.”
He jumped a bit. “Oh, sorry, Waverly. I didn’t see you. I was examining this painting.” He pointed to the portrait of a man and woman. “Notice anything special?”
The man had gray eyes, same as the woman’s and he was the first Merric man I noticed not surrounded by animals. “They both have gray eyes.”
“Yes, these are your great-great-great-great-great grandparents, Laurel and Robert.”
Under the plaque, someone had written a big fat zero, and the words ‘kissing cousins make you weak’.
“So they were cousins. That’s so gross.”
Doc was surprised. “Yes, how did you know? Was it the eyes?”
“No, it says so under the plaque.”
Doc scrunched up his eyes. “Oh, no. Never noticed that before. Oh well, most families have wedded cousins some place in their history.”
“Are we even related? I mean, I am from a different world, and my grandmother swore her brother died in the war, and a woman told me that Bollard was alive in the 1920s, which would make him far too old to be Grandma’s brother.”
Doc nodded slowly. “He’s technically your grandmother’s uncle.”
“But is he with the different world thing?”
“Yes, you are genetically family.”
It wasn’t the answer I wanted. Not really being related was an easy excuse to leave or at least separate myself mentally from the man I had thought was my uncle.
I stepped to the side and checked out the next painting. Someone had written a number under that painting. As I craned my neck to other queens, I noticed every portrait had a number under it. I stepped back to some of the earlier pictures, surprised I hadn’t noticed. Each had a penciled in number. Some were low like 126 and 52 and 856, but others were high: 145,857 and 5,685,498. The higher numbers tended to be held by princesses or duchesses. None of the men had the numbers, although every single one had animals. “Yeah, someone wrote numbers under all the paintings.”
“Did they really?” He looked over at the next painting. “So they have. I wonder who… very interesting.”
“So do you like art?” I asked.
Doc nodded. “Ah, well, yes, I suppose, but I came here to see the painting of Laurel and Robert. They are considered two of the greatest leaders this world has ever known. They brought on the period known as The Heyday of Plenty.”
“They look happy,” I said.
“They were; both lived to be very old. Come.” Doc stepped two paintings over. An older Laurel sat next to her husband, each with a baby in their arms and an Old English Sheep Dog sprawled at their feet. Women and girls of varying ages surrounded them. “See all those girls? They had twelve daughters total.”
“Not one son? Robert must have been lonely.”
“I believe he was perfectly happy and in love until the day he died. Even then, I think he died happy.”
“My grandparents were that much in love. I don’t think they spent more than a few hours apart before he passed away. I remember Grandpa taking me to the park and to the movies. He could go maybe three hours total without her before he’d get all anxious, pulling at his collar, pacing; you know, those sorts of things. They weren’t wealthy but very happy. Good thing she had money from being a touring singer, so she could stay home and help with the farm,” As soon as I said it, I knew it wasn’t true. “Her money was from here, wasn’t it?”
Doc nodded, and I continued, “Well anyway, the doctors think that’s what triggered her illness. Dad said it was better for her, you know, that she didn’t know what was going on. Her remembering Grandpa would only cause her more pain.”
Doc nodded sadly. “I lost my Betsy a little over a decade ago. If I didn’t have my youngest son, I don’t know how I would have stayed so grounded. He was young, thirteen at the time. Love gives us purpose.”
I got it, I really did.
“Doc, you know the Merric family. My grandma isn’t well. The doctors in my world think she has Alzheimer’s, but I know it isn’t. There are too many inconsistencies, like her high temperature.”
“She has the Tennabris.” Doc stepped into the center of the room, and I followed him. “Almost every Merric in this room suffered from the Tennabris. Many died from the disorder.”
“Oh God. It is genetic, and this is my family.” My knees felt weak. For years, I’d guessed Grandma’s illness probably had a genetic component, but this confirmed it.
“Yes, and no.”
“There’s a cure though, right? I mean you said many, not all. With the technology and medicine, they have here…”
From the look on Doc’s face, I knew even with their technological advancements they still didn’t have a cure.
I swallowed down the budding lump in my throat. “So, what happens with the Tennabris?”
“The early stages include shadows no one else can see,” he said, and I thought of the shadow I saw in the garden. “Extreme hot fits, memory loss, loss of identity. The latter stages include debilitating phantasms that cause the victim to become bedridden.”
I thought of Grandma and her symptoms. She had the hot fits, loss of identity, memory loss and delusions of—no, I thought—not delusions of grandeur, but she mentioned seeing things on occasion. She’d spoken about making shadows a few times, like how she couldn’t always make shadows for me and for me not to make shadows.
I asked, “What can we do?”
“There isn’t much. You told me her body is still strong, so it could take years.” My eyes prickled with tears. I wiped them away as Doc added, “Take heart. She had her first signs of Tennabris when she was a young lady here. She realized for some time that this would happen. I’m sure she settled things long before she got sick.”
“Is that why she went home? Was it because she was getting sick?”
“No, I don’t believe so. She wasn’t suffering from the symptoms, really. They were there, but she continued her duties to the crown right until she went home. In your world, she met your grandfather, she had your mother, and your mother had you. She lived with it and had a good life from what I can tell. After your grandfather died, they became a problem. That is part of it too.”
Grandpa’s dying, the trauma of grief. “My parents an
d the doctor believed Grandpa was covering for Grandma, but I wasn’t so sure.”
“Yes, the Merrics fall deeply in love. I’m sure you noticed.” I nodded in agreement. He continued. “Love has a great impact on mental and psychological health. Most Merrics find their spouse to be an anchor that keeps them centered here on Earth. When your grandfather died, his presence and the power it brought went with him. The phantoms only got worse from that point.”
This all rang true. Grandpa’s death had hit the family like lightning dropped from a clear blue sky. Farming accidents didn’t happen to experienced farmers, and no one was more experienced with the combine than Grandpa.
Grandma’s illness was the storm that followed. Distraught and heartbroken, Grandma went to bed the night of the accident and woke up the royal heir to the American throne. “Phantoms are like shadows or something?”
Doc nodded. Grandma, without a doubt, had this disease. My thoughts immediately went to my mom and myself. “Will my mom get it? Will I?”
Doc did that sad smile thing which was more lamentable than a moment before. “It skips generations sometimes. If I have anything to do with it, the shadows will never bother you.”
“Does Bollard suffer from them?”
“Ah, that is a question you yourself must pose to him.” Doc checked his pocket watch. “Alas, I must go.”
“Do you have to?” I didn’t want him to leave. The news he’d delivered had been devastating. Not only the incurable nature of the disease, but the fact it was a genetic nightmare that nearly the whole side of the family suffered from.
Doc straightened his bowtie. “I volunteer and work with the poor.”
“But they can’t even get colds.” I needed him more than they did. “Or I could go help. You know I am a princess or something like that. I could help with them.”
Doc gave another sad smile. “Someday, Waverly, but not now.”
After he left, I stayed a little longer. Doc knew the Merrics better than anyone when it came to their health. Every symptom he listed sounded like Grandma. I walked along the pictures of the royal Merric family. If they didn’t have a cure with all the money and power, then there was no cure. Not for her, not for me. My eyes swam with tears. What was I supposed to do? Find the necklace, find the words. I was Grandma’s only hope. Don’t make shadows. Don’t make shadows. And my only hope too.