Helena settled at the end of the bed and edged closer. “I won’t be able to take you out today. I’m sorry, but I just found out Mr. Carlson needs to see me.”
“I know.” Kailani uncrossed her ankles and kicked her feet. “I heard thunder outside. Is it raining?”
“Drizzling, but threatening.”
“Then I guess I don’t mind staying in.”
Helena struggled to find something to say, and then she noticed that each of the last two days on the calendar had been crossed out with an angry X.
“What are those marks for?”
“Mr. Carlson taught me how to measure time.”
“But what is it you’re measuring?”
Kailani looked away. “I can’t tell you. Mr. Carlson told me not to.”
Damn. Helena checked her watch—seven minutes to go.
Kailani scanned the far wall, as if searching for a loose cinder block that might offer an escape.
Helena cast around for a way to regain her attention. “What’s it like in the Blessed Lands? Is there ocean everywhere?”
“Only by the shore.”
“Is that where you and your family live?”
Kailani’s mouth opened, but no words came out. Instead, she blinked and looked away.
Helena tried again. “Does the terrain look like here?”
“It’s flatter. Not so many hills.”
“And the buildings?
“Not as tall. Red tile roofs.”
“And the trees?”
“Not as many. Too dry. Not many flowers, either. It’s more brown than green.”
Time to take a chance. “And what are your parents like?”
The girl sat up and raised her chin. “I am the daughter of the sea and the sky.”
Helena found herself strangely sympathizing with Carlson. “You understand there’s no way they can send you home without knowing who your parents are.”
“I can’t go home until I’ve done penance.”
“Penance?” Helena blurted out before she could stop herself. “You think staying in this cell is penance?”
“My Lord Kanakunai has sent me for a purpose.”
“What purpose? To be locked in here for months on end? Because that’s what will happen if you never tell us anything.”
Kailani’s lower lip trembled. “Why can’t I stay with you?”
Helena watched those ocean-blue eyes well up and fought to keep her own eyes dry. She drew Kailani closer and pressed the child’s head to her breast, then chanted as she rocked. “I wish you could. I wish you could.”
When they separated, Helena grasped her by the arms and leaned in until their foreheads nearly touched. “I don’t know what it’s like in the Blessed Lands, but here in the Republic we run our lives by laws—reasonable laws. The law that’s keeping you here may seem harsh, but it was made to protect us after a terrible war, one that ended before my parents were born. That law was never intended for someone like you, though, so we have to wait until a tribunal decides what to do. Do you understand?”
Kailani glanced up to the fluorescent light, then behind her to the picture of the ocean on the calendar. After a moment, she turned back to Helena. When their eyes met, it seemed as if the child had seen into her soul and found the pain.
“And what are your parents like, Helena?”
Helena let go and stepped away, afraid to show her face until sure she was under control. After three breaths, she turned back to Kailani. “My father was a great scientist, a man of knowledge. I grew up with him and my mother in one of the houses on the cliffs near where your boat came in.”
Kailani brightened. “Why wouldn’t your law let me go live in the house on the cliffs with you and your mother and father? I wouldn’t be any trouble, and I could see the ocean every day.”
“My father and mother don’t live there anymore. He died recently, and she moved away. She couldn’t bear living in that house with its memories. And I’m not sure the authorities want you wandering about town.”
“You don’t think he’d have liked me?”
She sighed. What would her father have thought of Kailani? He’d have liked her, of course, because he was a kind and decent man, but he was also a man of science, suspicious of absolute faith. Absolute faith constrains the mind, he used to say, and stifles new ideas.
“He’d like you, Kailani, but he’d consider you a distraction to me. You see, before he died, I promised him that I’d study hard and become a scientist like him. Unfortunately, I’m not doing a very good job of it.”
Kailani came over and pulled until Helena was close enough to feel the warmth of the nine-year-old’s breath on her cheeks.
“Your father’s spirit lives on,” she whispered. “The sky says the spirit in each of us never dies. If you speak to him, he’ll answer.”
Helena gaped at her. “You can’t really believe that?”
“The sky said if I tried hard enough, I could speak to the wind, though the wind has never answered me. That’s why I have to do penance. But you’ve done nothing wrong. You just need to listen harder. Try under the stars, and he’ll speak to you.”
There it was—absolute faith, what had been lost with the Treaty of Separation.
Kailani released her grip, went back to the bed, and plopped down. “Where did your mother go?”
Helena was grateful for the change in subject. “Up north, to a place called Glen Eagle Farm.”
“That’s a pretty name. What’s it like? Have you been there?”
“Only once, when I took her there. It’s an artist colony, very beautiful, all green, with rolling hills and mountains in the distance.”
“Is there ocean?”
“No ocean. It’s inland, far from the sea.” Upon seeing Kailani’s disappointment, she added, “But there’s lots of bubbling streams. I think you’d like it.”
“Is your mother happy there?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Haven’t you asked her?”
“We haven’t talked much since my father died.”
Kailani focused on her hands, taking time to form the question. Finally, she looked up. “Does she blame you for your father’s death?”
“No, of course not.”
“Then why doesn’t she talk to you?”
The cinder block walls seemed suddenly to close in. The air became thick, and Helena had an urge to charge the door and pound on it until she was let out. What must it be like to be locked in here for days on end?
When she gave no answer, Kailani crooked a finger, inviting her closer, and spoke in the same hushed tone as before. “You should talk to your mother, Helena. The two of you share the Spirit.”
Share the Spirit? Then why had her mother fled, leaving her only daughter alone with her grief?
There was a knock and the door opened; time was up. Helena was almost relieved.
“Sorry to interrupt, Ms. Brewster. The chief examiner’s waiting.”
Helena got halfway across the room before Kailani rushed after her. “I don’t mind if there’s no ocean.”
“What?”
“Glen Eagle Farm. Maybe the law will let me go there to be with you and your mother.”
“I can’t—”
“And Jason. If you and Jason were with me, I wouldn’t need the ocean. It would be enough.”
The matron cleared her throat.
Helena rested a hand on Kailani’s cheek, long enough to let its warmth linger. Then she followed the matron out the door.
***
Helena waited while Carlson flipped through a folder on his desktop. She craned her neck to read the tab; all it said was “Kailani.”
Impatience got the better of her. “What’s going on, Mr. Carlson? What’s happened?”
He let his glasses slip down his nose, and looked at her over them. “The tribunal had a preliminary interview with Kailani. They’ve set a date for her hearing.”
“When?”
“The fifth of April.” He set the fold
er on its edge and tapped it twice so the papers lined up inside.
“That’s more than six months.” She imagined Carlson sneaking sweets into Kailani and tried to temper her tone. “You can’t leave her here for that long.”
“I know.”
The way he said it sent a shiver down her spine. “There’s something more, isn’t there?”
He started to fiddle with his paper clips, then stopped and stared straight at her. “Next week, she’s to be transferred to the Deerfield Correctional Facility for Juveniles.”
“A correctional facility? But she’s done nothing wrong.”
“You weren’t at the interview. She told them she came to our shores in the name of her god to show us the way of the Spirit. That’s almost the word-for-word legal definition of proselytizing. Understand this is a compassionate ruling—normally the justices would have ruled for incarceration. When she returns in April, she’ll need to convince the tribunal she’s changed. If we can’t find out where she’s come from, and she still refuses to assimilate, the tribunal will have only one choice left.”
“But why a correctional facility? She’ll be in with young criminals. She’ll be eaten alive.”
“Not just criminals. There’ll be other questionable refugees from her homeland. She’ll be safe there—they do maintain order. She needs to be in a place where she can adjust to a life of reason rather than the way she was raised. The correctional facility is a relearning center. At least there, she’ll have a chance.”
“Do you really believe she’s a threat to anybody?”
Carlson shook his head. “A threat to individuals? No, of course not. But to our society? Let me ask you this, Helena. You’ve seen the effect Kailani has on people. Do you really believe there aren’t some who might exploit her to their own ends?”
Helena began to argue, then shook her head. Though she hated what he was saying, it carried a ring of truth. Was that why Kailani had fled her homeland? Was that why she was so secretive now?
“How far away is Deerfield, Mr. Carlson?”
“A full day’s drive, I’m afraid. It’s the nearest place we could find to take someone so young. I’m sorry, Helena. We’ve both become attached to her.”
Helena brought a thumb to her teeth, tapped twice, and bit down hard. She looked at Carlson across her knuckles. “Is the decision irreversible?”
“It could be changed, but there really isn’t an alternative. As we’ve both agreed, she can’t stay here.”
Helena blinked, hoping he’d look away, but his gaze never wavered, as if he expected her to speak next. Was she ready to say what she wanted to?
She swallowed hard. “What if... I were willing to take her? What if I could offer a more benign place where she could learn our ways without being exposed to society?”
Carlson released his gaze.
Is that the hint of a smile at the corner of his lips?
“I was hoping you’d ask. Frankly, I’d much rather see her with you than in an institution, but it won’t be easy. In the past three weeks, I’ve made accommodations for you. This is different. If she’s caught causing trouble, it could blow up in our faces, moving up the asylum hearing, or worse, biasing it toward incarceration. If I’m to circumvent the correctional facility, the tribunal will need something better, both for the child and for our society. Something more... reasonable.”
“What does that mean?”
“I asked the justices about this, and they said there are three non-negotiable terms. First, she must be released into the care of a mature and responsible citizen of the Republic—I immediately thought of you. Second, she should be able to learn not only our ways but some skill, so she can someday be useful to society. Third, and most problematic, she must be isolated from centers of population to prevent her from preaching in public while she assimilates. Any violation of these terms during the trial period will result in rescission of the stay and immediate incarceration.”
A vision came into Helena’s mind of rolling green hills and bubbling brooks. She sucked in a stream of air and let it out slowly, then licked her lips to bring moisture. “What if I could provide that?”
Carlson slid his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, and then brought his hands together, making a steeple of his forefingers. His magnified eyes stared into hers, eyes too watery for a bureaucrat.
It seemed forever before he responded. “You’re serious about this?”
She nodded.
“Fully committed?”
“I... think so.” She said the words too loudly, hoping to hide the tremor in her voice.
Carlson followed with a detailed line of questions.
She did her best to answer but found it hard to focus. The blood thudding in her temples kept obscuring his words.
***
The thwacking of the wipers pounded inside Helena’s head. Shortly after she had merged onto the highway, the sky darkened and the drizzle that had cursed the day turned into a downpour. Rain streamed across the windscreen, forcing her to squint to see the road.
A single thought reverberated in rhythm with the wipers: What have I done?
Her father would have called it an episode of irrationality, but after he was gone, she’d been the rational one, trying to hold her mother together. All her mother could do was rail against the Soulless Land for denying her husband an eternal spirit. She’d threatened to transmigrate to the Blessed Lands, but in the end considered Helena—if she transmigrated, they’d never see each other again. Now, she meditated two hours a day and spent the rest of her time sewing and making jewelry.
Carlson had insisted Kailani be kept busy and learn a skill, and though Helena hated asking, she needed her mother’s help to get them into the farm. Her mother would almost certainly take to the girl from the Blessed Lands, help with her care, and teach her a craft. Yes, her mother and the farm would be the first part of the solution.
Jason was the second.
Kailani’s plight may have given her purpose, but finding Jason again had brought much more—the hope of being happy someday. Could she convince him to abandon his great mission for a while and come to the farm? It was precisely the kind of preposterous adventure he’d once dreamed of. This time, would he take the chance?
Finally, she considered the promise to her father.
For seven semesters she’d fought to live up to his expectations, doing well enough to have a shot at highest honors, but highest honors were now out of reach, and simple graduation seemed increasingly unlikely. More telling, she no longer cared.
The downpour became heavier, as if someone had turned the spigot to full. Water coursed along the glass in a blinding stream. She flicked at the wiper control but turned the knob the wrong way, and the wipers stopped mid-windscreen. In a panic, she hit the brake, hoping no one was behind her, and then fumbled with the control until the wipers resumed.
She slowed her breathing, as every citizen in the Republic had been taught, to calm her passions and see the situation through the clear lens of reason. If they brought Kailani to the farm, she would fail to graduate. Worse, she’d never go back to the path her father had laid out for her. She’d break the promise made that day in the brightly lit room.
How bright it had been, inappropriate for someone who was dying.
***
Helena sat by his bedside, one hand resting on her father’s arm, staring at the pain meds dripping into his vein.
Seemingly asleep, he let out a wheeze. She doubted he knew she was there, until his eyes opened and locked on hers.
“Promise me, Helena,” he said in a weak voice. “Promise you’ll finish and go on to fulfill your potential. To be a greater scientist than me.”
She grasped his hand.
His eyes clouded, but he returned the pressure, now gulping for air.
“I’ll try,” she whispered.
“Promise,” he said, more gasp than speech.
“I promise.”
His grip slackened, and
he was gone.
Chapter 8 – Choices
In the wee hours of the morning, Helena dreamed the door to her bedroom opened, as it had opened so often when she was little. Some nights her father would work late at the lab and not come home until long after she’d gone to bed. He’d tiptoe to her door and nudge it open a crack to check on her, but the door squeaked just enough that she always knew he was there.
This dream was different. The moment the door opened she flung off the covers and swung her feet to the floor, expecting her father. Instead, a girl stood in the doorway, her face hidden in scrim, her tiny arm extended and beckoning.
“Follow me,” she said. “I’ll take you to him.”
When Helena awoke from the dream, the room had brightened—not the brightness of daylight but the faint gray of predawn. A chill settled on her and she realized she’d kicked the covers off. She reached for them, tugged them to her chin, and pressed her eyes shut again, but there’d be no more sleep that morning.
They’d moved to the house on the cliffs when she was six, one of her earliest memories. Her father had taken a tenured professorship at the prestigious Polytechnic Institute, a big step up and a significant increase in pay. For Helena, the change was even greater. Their former home in the city had been a gloomy place, an old house that moaned with a strange cacophony of shudders and creaks. Her bedroom pulsed with dark eaves, and spider webs shadowed the corners. A ghostly cypress blocked the sun from her window, and its branches scratched the glass like bird claws whenever the wind blew. Many a night, her father would have to come in and talk her to sleep, explaining that ghosts were myths and that she’d learn to see things more clearly as she grew older.
When they moved to Albion Point, it had been a revelation. The house was open and airy, and sunlight streamed through the windows. And of course, there was the ocean.
Now, despite the sun and the sea, this house, like the old one, seemed pervaded by gloom.
She finally got up and rattled around the house, pacing from room to room and organizing things that needed no organizing. She tidied the magazines littering the coffee table in the living room, and fluffed the throw pillows on the sofa before setting them back, corners up and overlapping. She wound the big clock in the hall, turning the key only twice before the spring drew tight. Then she came to the shrine.
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