Soleil

by Jacqueline Garlick

  I lower my head, overcome with guilt for not believing in Eyelet’s vision, and overwhelmed with the reality that she’s not here with me.

  How am I to go on without her?

  I turn my tear-filled eyes toward the tear in the sky, baffled to see that it’s repaired itself. Just a tiny scar remains where it was.

  I half wonder if this all really happened.

  “Beautiful id‘nit?” Livinea catches me deep in thought.

  “Yes. Yes, it is.” I turn and share a brief smile.

  It’s hard to be happy when my heart is so very unhappy.

  I can’t imagine it ever becoming lighter.

  The din of tittering children’s voices draws my eyes away. I turn to the orderly street in front of our picket fence. Ladies stroll past in big gilded hats, twirling sun parasols on their shoulders. A group of children laugh and chase one another up a fresh cobblestone road, pushing a wheel with a stick. There’s a strange and luminescent quality to their skin—just as I’d seen on those others. Their clothing, too, is shockingly vibrant.

  I wonder for a moment if things just look vibrant because I’ve struck my head. Will everything turn dull again once it stops throbbing?

  But then I look back to Livinea, who appears very dull. Not in character, but in colour. Her skin tone is downright bland compared to the ladies strolling on the other side of the fence, and yet in Brethren she’d been a breathtaking beauty. Even her normally flashy clothes appear mundane in this place.

  Ordinary even.

  What’s going on? I rub my eyes with my fists. What’s happened to me?

  A little girl on the street shrieks with joy. She throws an arm out and waves to me. Her sparkling hand blurs in the air, like it takes a moment to catch up with itself, like a picture flick movie running at an odd speed.

  “Who are these people?” I look to Iris. “Why do they look like that?”

  Iris pets my arm.

  “We’re not rightly sure ourselves.” Masheck steps closer.

  “But they’s awfully nice,” Livinea blurts. She wriggles her fingers, waving back at the child. The girl grins, then bounces away again, her image struggling to catch up with her movements.

  “They’s all friendly like that,” Livinea continues. “All the time.” She looks to me with astonished eyes and whispers. “It’s really quite amazin’.”

  “What are they doing here?” I ask, watching a couple stride along arm in arm up the road. Unlike the others, these two are as dull-looking as Livinea. I look down at myself, noticing I’m the same, and so are Iris and Masheck. We are all dull.

  Are we dead?

  My heart takes a turn in my chest.

  “Dunno.” Masheck shrugs when my questioning eyes land on him. “They just live here, I guess. All of them together, sparkly ones and the non-sparkly ones.” He moves his hand in the air like he’s mixing something.

  Iris nods.

  “Yes, but, how did they all get here? Considering, you know…” I squint back to where the tear in the sky had been.

  “Dunno that either.” Masheck squints along with me.

  Clementine whinnies behind us.

  I swing around, half expecting to see her severely injured or dead. My heart aches remembering the sight of her burning face. “Clementine?”

  I brace myself for the worst.

  She looks up at me, with her long face and big sad eyes, from where she feasts on green grass. She whinnies again. She’s perfectly all right, indulging herself in a little well-earned treat. There’s not a mark on her lovely hide.

  “What happened?” I stagger back. “What is it? What is all this?” I blink and rub my eyes.

  “What do you mean, all this?” Masheck asks.

  “The closed up rent, the shimmering beings, and Clementine uninjured.” I turn apprehensive eyes on Masheck, pulling my hands through my hair. “How can this be? How can Clementine be fine? I saw the wounds with my own eyes.” I tap the edges of my eye sockets.

  Iris steps up, grasps my arm and rubs it, trying to quiet me.

  “Isn’t anyone else disturbed by any of this?” I turn to her, and she shakes her head, her eyes telling me to relax.

  “I ’ave to admit, the shimmering beings make me a bit nervous.” Masheck tilts his head.

  “That’s it? That’s all you’re questioning?” My voice lilts.

  “I mean, ’oo are we to question?” Livinea bats her blues. “Look at this.” She spreads her arms wide and twirls.

  A raven flaps in, dropping down to rest atop the fretwork fence in front of us. It joins the rest of the flock that sprawls the length of the fence line on that side.

  It’s the first I’ve noticed them, and now I can’t stop. A conspiracy of ravens.

  All staring at me.

  They cock their heads and blink their wide eyes.

  “How long have they been here?” I whisper out the side of my mouth to Masheck.

  “Ever since you ’it your ’ead, I’m afraid. It’s like they’ve been sittin’ a vigil, waitin’ for you to wake up, or die.” He turns to me.

  “Good job I didn’t then. Shoo!” I flit my hands out in front of me like a flapping apron, hoping to encourage them to move on, but they don’t. They don’t even so much as ruffle a feather. “Shoo!” I try again.

  “It ain’t no use; we tried that early on. They ain’t goin’ nowheres .” Livinea pinches her hips. “It’s like they’s waitin’ for the second comin’ of the Lord or somethin’.” She rolls her eyes and then stares at me, silent.

  “So, what do we do, just…wait for them to leave?” I whisper.

  “I think it’s best, sir,” Masheck whispers.

  “Perhaps we could tell them they can go now.” I dash him with a sideways glance.

  “You tell them.” Masheck’s brows leap.

  One of the ravens, the darkest feathered of the bunch, flaps his wings and caws ridiculously loudly. He spreads his wings and floats toward me, looking back over his shoulder.

  My heart takes a little start.

  The rest of the flock hop and dither and lift from their roosts, winging in tight, continuous circles above our heads. I duck as they weave around us.

  The chattering is crippling.

  My throbbing head can’t stand it.

  “What do you suppose is wrong with them?”

  “I dunno.” Masheck balls his fists.

  Livinea moves close and clings to one of my arms, Iris to the other, as the lead bird dips dastardly close to our faces.

  All at once the flock draws back, creating an opening like curtains drawing back from a stage. They flutter sideways as a single, hovering bird emerges in the middle, its beak a startling crimson red.

  A scar travels across the base of the bird’s entire throat.

  The story of Eyelet’s mother’s death floods back to me.

  “Pan?” I say, weakly. “Pan, is that you?”

  She nods, her sparkling, green-flecked eyes set on me.

  I squint, still not fully believing what I’m seeing.

  As I step cautiously toward her, she lands on the fence’s gatepost and adjusts her feathers.

  “But I thought I left you—”

  She drops from the fencepost and throws herself into a turn. Around her body glows a blinding halo of white light.

  I raise a hand against it, shielding my eyes as she spins faster, shedding her feathers like a whirling waterspout.

  I blink, unbelieving, as slowly she increases in size and dimension and her legs become human legs and her claws become feet. I draw back, afraid, my heart a cataclysmic bumping.

  Silver light bursts from her beak.

  The flash is so bright I must close my eyes. When I open them again, black feathers whirl about in a circle, slowly drifting to the ground. Out of their middle steps a woman, immaculately dressed in a sparkling crimson gown. Feathers spiral away from her fingertips. Her glowing red beak, morphs into a warm, inviting smile.

  I scramble backward b
linking

  If I didn’t know better, I’d swear it was…

  “Eyelet?” I gasp, taken aback.

  Her eyes are wide, like Eyelet’s, only flecked blue-green.

  Her hair is the same color, too. Her build, the shape of her face, her chiselled jaw.

  “Close,” the woman says, strands of cinnamon and nutmeg hair fluttering about her shoulders.

  “Would yuh look at that.” Livinea’s mouth falls open.

  Iris crushes my hand and whimpers. I can tell by her eyes she sees the likeness, too.

  “Who are you?” I say, thinking I know, and I should greet her, if she is who I think she is, but part of me is still unsure.

  “Don’t be afraid,” she whispers, her voice a soft thin line. She cups her hands in front of her and steps toward us. “I’ve come to help you understand.”

  “Understand what?” I stumble backward.

  “Where you are. And why you’re here.” She smiles and turns to Masheck, her sleek, shimmering face lagging in time with the rest of her image just as the child’s hand did before when waving. Masheck scowls, and looks skeptical.

  She glows oddly luminescent.

  There’s a strong scent of lavender in the air. Her ghostly appearance flashes in and out, as if it’s a bulb short-circuiting in a weak socket.

  I’m not that sure of any of this.

  “I’m here to help,” she says, and extends a hand.

  The scar on her throat shimmers in the sunlight, and I want to ask to be sure it’s her, but for some reason I feel I shouldn’t. I don’t want to break the spell and see her go away.

  She’s the closest thing I’ll ever know to Eyelet in this world.

  “Where is she? What’s happened to Eyelet? I left you with her as she lay dying. You promised me you wouldn’t leave her—”

  “And I didn’t—”

  “Then what are you doing here?” I glance around. “Unless of course, you’re not who I think you are.”

  “What happens to Eyelet is all up to you, now.”

  “What do you mean, up to me?” I scowl. “What are you talking about? This is a trick. You’re a trick, aren’t you?” My blood rages. I do not like be toyed with. I begin to suspect I’m right. That she’s just a conjured up image left over from Smrt’s other world, sent to rip my heart out.

  The woman unfolds her hands and smiles deeply again. “You see, here in Limpidious, the sacred rule applies.” Her voice trills archangel-like.

  “What sacred rule?” Masheck snaps.

  “Perhaps Eyelet shared it with you?” She tilts her head, inquisitively, turning first to Livinea, and then Iris.

  They both look blank.

  She moves onto me and lingers there.

  “If you really mean well, get on with it,” I say through clenched teeth.

  Masheck shuffles beside me.

  Iris’ gaze fixes on something past the woman’s shoulder, off in the distance near the edge of a lush forest. Her pupils light like candlewicks, sparking to flame. She abandons her grip on my hand and begins running off through the long grass, her skirts rustling.

  “Iris?”

  She hesitates, bringing trembling hands to her mouth, then sobs and keeps running.

  “What is this? What have you done?” I turn on the woman.

  “Iris!” Masheck hollers, chasing after her. “Iris? What is it?”

  “It’s all right,” the woman shouts. “Let her go. You will see!”

  Masheck scowls and continues his pursuit.

  Iris scoops up her skirts and races toward something I cannot see, her arms held open wide.

  “What is it? What does she see?” I spin around on the woman.

  “Oh, my Lord…” Masheck whoops and hops into a run. “Oh my Lord, oh my Lord, oh my Lord.”

  “What is it? What’s going on?” I track their gazes to the horizon—to something, to nothing. There’s nothing to see. Something that brings this big burly brute to tears.

  “What is it? I see nothing. What wickedry have you cast upon them?” I charge after the woman, my arms trembling. “What have you done? What have you done to them!”

  “I have done nothing.” She shakes her glistening head. “They’ve done it all themselves.”

  “Done what?” Livinea wrinkles her face, looking utterly confused. I’m not the only one that doesn’t see what’s going on.

  “Oh my Lord, oh my Lord!” Masheck bursts into a gallop, loping through the long grasses at the edge of the forest—a forest that was not there just moments ago.

  Iris claps her hands and squeals with delight as Masheck joyfully bounds up behind her.

  I glare at the woman. “I demand to know what is going on here!”

  She nods. “Look.”

  Out of the forest races a child, leaping through the long grass at the forest’s edge. Her dress is a flutter of green ruffles. Her hair is as red as fire. Wild curls float back from her shoulders, twisting in the breeze. The image of her body lags, just as the woman’s did, her feet and hands flickering in and out, moving not quite as quickly as her pace. She springs from the vibrant grasses into Iris’ outstretched arms.

  “Cordelia?” I breathe, finally catching a glimpse of her face. Her eyes dart up, spotting me over Iris’ shoulder. She smiles. “Cordelia!” I blink and she does not go away. “Cordelia!” I break into a run to join them.

  Iris hugs the little girl tight, laughing and spinning.

  “Cordelia, Cordelia, Cordelia.” I scoop them both up in my arms. I stroke their heads and kiss them both softly. “My sweet, little Cordelia. But how?” I turn back to the woman. “How can this be?”

  “It’s just as Eyelet told me.” Cordelia’s voice is thin. “The ones we love most in life never die, as long as we keep them alive in our hearts. You kept me here.” Cordelia touches my chest. “So here I am.” She throws her arms up. “And as long as you do, I live.” She smiles. Her chocolate eyes glint in the sparkling sun.

  “Is this true?” I swing around to the woman.

  But she’s disappeared.

  Beyond where her figure stood, something on the horizon shimmers into view. The figure of a small boy—the ghostly likeness of the child I buried not long ago.

  “Sebastian?” I grimace, fighting back tears as he catapults forward, his knotted hair tussling in the breeze, his ragged clothes flapping. He launches into my waiting arms. “Sebastian, Sebastian,” I swing him in a circle, crushing him tight.

  The sound of his laughter lightens my chest.

  “Sadar!” Masheck shouts, and he dives headlong into the woods.

  I look up to see Sadar’s crooked body slink out from behind a tree. He is whole and shimmering.

  Masheck scoops him up into a bear-like hug. Sadar laughs and claps his back, gasping.

  “You’re back,” Masheck says, lowering him to the ground.

  “Of course I am.” Sadar pulls away, cupping Masheck’s astonished face in his hands. “It is our destiny.” He smiles and stares at me. “Just as I told her she would be.”

  Martin walks out next, followed by Wanda, the cook, the butler, the footman, the maid and the groom—all looking better in resurrected death than life. They are all greeted with a sloppy kiss and a hug from Iris, followed by rib-cracking hugs from Masheck.

  I join them, Sebastian in my arms, clapping each on the back, drawing them to me for long one-armed hugs, one after the other.

  Livinea stamps her feet. “What is it? What’s going on?”

  I look back at Livinea, scowling furiously. “My goodness, what?” She strains, scanning the trees. “What do you see?”

  I lower Sebastian to the ground. “What about Eyelet?” I ask the group. “Where’s Eyelet?” I grow frantic. “Did you see her? Where is she? Did you see her in the wood?”

  “Over here, silly.” Her voice threads through the trees, all cocky and precocious-like.

  I swing around to find her leaning with one boot-heel raised against a tree trunk. She’s shi
mmering from head to toe, like a cool lake on a warm summer’s day. Her eyes especially glisten.

  “Eyelet?” I break into a run, tripping and stumbling in the long grass.

  Eyelet laughs.

  I gallop toward her, grinning. “Eyelet!”

  “Urlick!” With a skip and a jog, she meets me halfway and throws herself into my open arms. “Eyelet!” I spin her, crushing her tightly to my chest, our mouths falling on one another.

  “I thought I’d never see you again,” I whisper between kisses.

  “I told you to trust me.” She kisses me again, hard, then pulls back, giggling. “You were so busy remembering everyone else, I honestly thought you’d never get around to me.” She threads her arms about my neck and lightly kisses me on the nose. “Honestly, Urlick Babbit-Winslow, if I wasn’t dead, I’d be jealous.”

  I kiss her again, with meaning this time, parting her teeth with my tongue.

  Her gaze travels over my back. “I see you’ve met my mother,” she says around the kissing.

  I pull away.

  The woman has appeared again. She’s right behind us.

  “In a matter of speaking, yes,” I say, flushing red.

  Her mother smiles, waving my embarrassment away. She blows her daughter a kiss.

  “And my father?” Eyelet’s gaze swings back toward the horizon.

  Walking in from the forest is a great mass of a man, his dark curls drawn back by the breeze. He’s dressed in a modest white shirt, vest and pants with his sleeves rolled up to expose his arms. He strides up, kisses his daughter on the cheek, and then takes his place next to Eyelet’s mother, wrapping his arms tight about her waist. The sun reflects off his bronze shimmering muscles.

  “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.” I extend a hand and Eyelet’s father shakes it, vigorously, then pulls me into a back-patting embrace. “Your Highness.” He adds, and bows his head.

  I laugh.

  “Wait a minute,” Eyelet gasps. She twists around in my arms and looks around with fretful eyes. “Aren’t we missing someone? C.L.? Where is he?” She bites her lip and looks frantically at her mother.

  Her mother’s face stiffens.

  “No. Oh, no,” Eyelet gasps, her voice cracking.

  “What is it? What’s the matter?” I stare into her tearing eyes.