by Sam Logue
“You think so?”
Victoria nodded, though she didn’t know if she was trying to reassure him or herself.
“I won’t tell Katie,” he said.
She was quietly grateful. “That’s probably best.”
“Are you going to say anything to dad?”
Victoria didn’t answer him.
“I’m glad we talked,” Nat said. “I love you. Dad’s a jerk.”
He hadn’t said I love you to her in so long. “I love you too. Don’t hate your father. He isn’t perfect, but none of us are.”
Nat went with Rachel into the dorm and Victoria waved goodbye. She knew Nat was growing up, and in that way, she was losing him. And she apparently was losing Sam, too, if what Nat thought was true.
Chapter Fourteen
Following the closely guided path set out by his father, Julian had enrolled at law school in the nearest city after finishing college in London. One Tuesday he decided at the last moment to come home to Blackthorn for a couple of days to see Katie.
The moon was a luminous slice in the dark sky. There were cars parked in his parents’ driveway, but his father’s car was gone. He paid the cab driver, went inside and dropped his suitcase in the hall. The house appeared empty until he heard voices coming from down in the cellar. He quietly walked downstairs to see what was going on.
Julian entered the small room where the old coal chute was. On the wall between the coal room and the wine cellar area, the wood had rotted away to create a knothole just big enough for him to see into the cellar without being observed. There was no way to lock the door behind him.
Years ago, his mother had renovated the spacious wine cellar and painted its walls bright white. Julian had been aware of the room but had never investigated it. A small tree branch dotted with tiny yellow and white flowers rested on a tall, white stand. The woman Aditi stood on one side of a wide, sterile-looking table in the room’s centre. On the other side waited a younger man who lived near Julian and his parents and was a dropout. From time to time, he rode a bicycle up their street. He had shaggy brown hair that fell past his ears and an unshaven face. Like Aditi, he had a coal-coloured mark on his temple.
The young man smiled at her. “I’m Theodore.”
She stared at him as though she had no idea who he was.
“Elvina’s apprentice?” he said.
Julian tried not to breathe too loudly. He heard a car pulling into the driveway and people walking down the basement steps. The coal room door shook as a number of people walked past it into the cellar.
Mr Hollingsworth, the hardware store owner – a middle-aged man who lived alone – came into the wine cellar and stood next to Theodore. Hollingsworth had a mark too. His mother and the doctor led in a very groggy boy, whose wrists were bound and mouth was taped shut. The doctor’s mark seemed bigger than those of the others. He propped the boy upright while his mother locked the cellar door behind her.
“Neil found him sleeping in an alley in the city,” his mother said to the small group. She looked at Mr Hollingsworth. “Have you heard any gossip in your shop about that schoolteacher’s death lately?”
“There’s been nothing new said for months,” he said.
“Good,” his mother said. She removed the boy’s shoes, placing them neatly behind her. He squirmed a little as she made him sit then rest on the white table.
The doctor, in a suit fit for a funeral, helped her strap the boy down. He passed close to the wall where the knothole was, forcing Julian to hold his breath even more and move back.
His mother lit long red candles in bronze holders and placed them near her on the floor. With the doctor’s help, she arranged a yellow silk cloth over the boy so that just his arms and feet stuck out. She took her place at the table’s head.
Julian couldn’t see the street kid’s face from the coal room, but when they had carried the boy inside, he had seen that the boy wasn’t more than around twelve years old. He wished he were brave enough to go in there. He was outnumbered, but could he somehow get into the adjoining room?
The doctor unsnapped his black medical bag, took out a small white case and walked to the boy’s feet. He rolled the boy’s socks down and off and stuck them in the boy’s shoes.
He took a small syringe out of the white case and patted the skin around the boy’s ankle. When he found a vein, he gently inserted the needle and pressed down on the plunger until the clear liquid the syringe contained was all gone.
The yellow cloth was starting to fall off the table, and the doctor observed the boy under it. “Stay still.”
The boy stopped moving, and the doctor fixed the cloth.
“I can’t believe I’m really here,” Theodore said in a soft voice.
“This is not going to be a problem for you, is it?” The doctor didn’t meet Theodore’s eyes.
“No, sir,” Theodore said.
The doctor took a stopwatch out of his suit jacket pocket and pressed the timer button. An impression of the boy’s small, delicate nose, his trembling lips and fluttering eyelids, was visible under the thin cloth. Gradually, his body stilled completely.
“Thankfully, it’s simpler with children because their body weight is easier to guess. I almost always get the dose right.” The doctor held the boy’s wrist and felt for his pulse. “Soon,” he announced to the group.
His mother and her guests murmured excitedly to one another. They all rubbed their noses like they were itchy then leaned forward and balanced on their shoes. Their toes curled down and bunched.
The boy’s mouth fell open under the yellow cloth. A wispy violet ribbon of mist seeped through the loose weave and moved like it was alive, wrapping itself around their heads one by one, passing in and out of their temple marks. They stiffened as they sighed with pleasure. A satisfied look glazed over their eyes. Their bodies stayed in place, and whatever gratification they were experiencing must have been in their minds. The thin stream twirled into a funnel cloud and evaporated. The boy was motionless under the cloth.
His mother extinguished the red candles one at a time with a snuffer. “I have a surprise for everyone.”
“Tell us already,” Mr Hollingsworth said.
“There’s someone I would like to communicate with.”
Aditi said, “You want them to join us?”
“I never said that. I’m not even sure if they know what they are yet,” his mother said.
“Who is it?” the doctor asked.
His mother whispered into the doctor’s ear. She spoke softly to Mr Hollingsworth and Aditi, and they smiled. Julian couldn’t hear what she’d said.
His mother smiled a little. “I’ll send them something good – a moment they’ll really enjoy.”
“How do you send a moment?” Theodore asked her.
His mother touched the boy’s face. Julian longed for her to love him like that. “Be patient.”
Aditi sighed. “I’ll miss this when I move.”
“Your company ended up transferring you?” Mr Hollingsworth asked.
She nodded and had a wistful smile.
“And we’ll miss you,” the doctor said.
Theodore interrupted, “I’m sorry you’ll be leaving, but I want to hear more about this sending moments thing.”
“The person who the moment is intended for gets it the next time they read,” Aditi said. “Elvina’s gotten good enough that she can send a moment to someone even when they’re not reading.”
“It’s that easy?”
His mother winked. “For me it is. It wouldn’t be that way for you if you tried to send one. You’re not skilled enough.” She closed her eyes.
The doctor glanced briefly in the direction of the knothole. He took Julian’s mother aside and asked her for the key to the door. “Sorry to interrupt you, but I really have to use the bathroom.”
Julian exhaled in relief. He thought he’d been discovered.
“Did you do it? Did you send them a moment?” Theodore asked.
“No. I’ll send it the next time I read.”
“I can’t wait until I’m just like you someday,” Theodore said.
His mother smiled at him. “That’s my boy. You will be.”
Julian burned with resentment. The coal room’s door rattled and he turned to see. The doctor was rushing at him with a syringe in his hand. Aditi and Mr Hollingsworth were right behind him. Julian cried out at the doctor sticking the syringe into his outstretched arm.
“It’s all right,” someone said soothingly.
Everything around Julian went black and he began to collapse, hitting the floor. Pain shot through him, and he felt someone carrying him away.
****
When Julian next opened his eyes, he was in his bed, dressed in the same clothes as the previous night. His head throbbed badly and he had a hard time getting up. It was as though he were hungover, but he hadn’t been drinking last night. At least he didn’t think he had been. He sat up on the edge of the bed and remembered seeing a large white room. A sharp ache moved through his upper arm, and he rolled up his sleeve and found a small mark, like a pinprick, that was fresh.
Chapter Fifteen
The chimes on top of the door clanged when Katie stepped inside the island’s hardware store.
“I’m in the stockroom. Be right with you,” the owner, Mr Hollingsworth, shouted.
Katie walked through the aisles, touched the coiled extension cords hanging from pegs and raked through the shelves for a box of garbage bags for her mother. She picked out a box on sale and plunked it on the paint-stained wooden sales counter. Her palms got sweaty as she waited for Mr Hollingsworth to come out and ring her up. He had never liked her.
“Find everything you need?” Mr Hollingsworth said as he came out of the stockroom. He paused when he saw who she was, went into the back aisle and straightened a row of garden spades. He turned and gave Katie an accusing glance, even though she hadn’t touched a thing.
Mr Hollingsworth slowly got behind the cash register.
“What have we got here?” He picked up the trash bag box. “These are for you?” He had a black mark that was similar to the one Julian’s mum and she had – and her aunt Diane too.
“For my parents,” Katie said softly.
Mr Hollingsworth cupped his hand over his ear. “What was that?”
“They’re for my parents,” she said at the top of her voice.
“Jeez. You don’t have to shout.” He tapped the top of the box with his thick finger. “Say, these are perfect for very large items, even as heavy as a body.” Mr Hollingsworth chuckled.
Katie fidgeted with the money her mother had given her.
“It was a joke.” Mr Hollingsworth gave her a half-smile.
She paid him, grabbed the box before he could put it in a bag and got out of there, accidently knocking over his watering cans on the way.
Mr Hollingsworth shouted at her from inside, “You pick those up, you stupid kid.”
Katie ran smack into Mrs Eastman.
“Trouble, dear?” Mrs Eastman asked from behind her lacy black veil.
She met Mrs Eastman’s eyes through the fine netting. “I didn’t mean to do it.”
Mr Hollingsworth stood in the doorway of his shop, listening. He pointed at Katie. “She’s the one making trouble, this dumb girl.”
Mrs Eastman turned on him, yelling, “You’re a bully if I ever saw one.”
Mr. Hollingsworth started to say, “But—”
“Oh, shut up,” Mrs Eastman said to him. She turned protectively toward Katie, smiled warmly and guided her away from Mr Hollingsworth as he busied himself with sorting the cans.
“Thank you,” Katie said, planning to go straight home. Mrs Eastman touched her shoulder and stopped her from walking away.
“How’s your friend, the girl I saw you with? I don’t know her name, but I know you’re Katie Gold.”
“How do you know who I am?”
“Everyone on the island knows the Golds.”
“Her name’s Alex. Her dad sent her off to boarding school.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. It explains why I haven’t seen her with you. Do you miss her?”
Her mother had never asked her that. Katie’s throat closed over and she feared for a moment she would start to cry in front of this stranger. “Very much.”
Mrs Eastman reached for Katie’s face. Katie wanted to pull away but there was sincerity in Mrs Eastman’s eyes, and she lightly placed a hand on Katie’s cheek. Her hands, like the rest of her, smelled of fresh roses and were soft and calming.
“We have the same mark,” Katie said.
“Excuse me?”
“I’ve noticed it before. If you don’t mind.” Katie pushed away the veil on Mrs Eastman’s red hat and pointed to her temple.
Mrs. Eastman gently touched Katie’s hand and Katie put it down. Mrs. Eastman rearranged her veil, gestured to Katie’s face and moved Katie’s hair aside. “It seems we both do have the Mark. Please don’t read, dear. The more you read, the more you crave it.”
“I don’t understand.”
Mr. Hollingsworth finished returning the cans to their place and went back into his store.
Mrs Eastman lowered her voice. “There are others with the Mark here,” she said to Katie. Mr Hollingsworth stood behind the large front window, watching them, and Mrs Eastman leaned her head toward him. “Some are okay. Others are not so good. I should know. Feel free to come back to me if you have a question.”
Katie opened her mouth to ask her more but nothing came out. Mrs Eastman pursed her lips and her eyebrows went up. “If that’s all, dear, then I should be on my way.” With a smile, she waved goodbye.
****
Katie walked upstairs as soon as she got home. Outside her bedroom door, on a waist-high table, there was a silver-framed photograph of her mother with Aunt Diane. Katie’s mother must have been in college at the time and Diane was a young teenager. Standing next to Katie’s mum, Diane was fairy-tale pretty with her glossy blonde hair and wide-set eyes. Her mother was taller and darker than her sister, with an ivory part in the centre of her brown hair. Katie thought it must have been hard for her mother to have had such a beautiful sister. Diane did have one flaw – a blemish just like Katie’s on the side of her face. Katie wished she could have talked to her aunt about what Mrs Eastman said.
****
On her walk to Julian’s later, she saw a couple of paintings stacked face down by the curb on the road behind his house.
Katie shooed a sparrow away from one canvas, picked it up and brushed off some dust. The portrait was of her smiling with her hair down. She turned a smaller canvas over. This one was done with watercolours and showed her laughing while sitting on the edge of Julian’s bed in his shirt, which was too big for her.
“You’re throwing these away?” Katie asked, as soon as Julian opened the door.
“My painting,” he said, taking the smaller one she held from her.
“It’s me.”
Julian gave the canvas back to Katie. “I didn’t throw it away because it’s of you.”
“Then why did you? They’re all of me.”
“Most of my paintings are of you.” He gestured for her to come in all the way.
They moved into the living room and sat on the plush couch. Setting the painting gently on the floor, Katie sank in farther and held Julian.
He sat bending forward. “I’m never going to be a real artist.”
“How could you think that? You created something that looks exactly like me. It is me.”
“I still want to go to art school. My dad’s never going to pay for it. And if I pay my own way, my mum will never let me forget that I betrayed my dad. So I can’t win.”
“Who cares what they think? Do what you want. I want to see you happy. Forget them both.”
Julian reached for Katie and had to bend to put his head on her shoulder, crying in front of her for the first time. His tears wet her neck and she
knew how much painting meant to him.
“Move your paintings into my garage,” Katie said.
Julian lifted his head, his eyes questioning.
“My parents have so much stuff stored in the garage that they’ll never notice your things. Please don’t throw them away. We’ll put your supplies in there too. I can retrieve them for you whenever you need to use them. You can still paint in secret.” She smiled at him.
“Your mum won’t have me arrested, will she?” Julian joked.
Katie stroked his hair until he let out a relaxed sigh. “Come by my house tomorrow in the late morning. My mum will have left for work by the time you get there.”
Julian glanced at her. “You’re sure this is a good idea? Will your dad mind?”
“He notices changes even less than my mum does.”
Katie’s goal was to get Julian to laugh, and it worked. “You’re right. Let’s go out and do something,” he said.
“I have to ask you something first. This might sound weird, but you never painted a picture of a lighthouse, did you?”
Julian’s brow furrowed. “A lighthouse? Never.”
Chapter Sixteen
Victoria’s back ached as she moved the boxes in the garage Sam had used to hide the painting of the boy in the blue parka with the fisherman in the lighthouse. She had never so much as gone to peek at it before this late afternoon. Her muscles would probably be sore tomorrow morning.
Victoria found other paintings in its place, stacked so that the backs of their canvases faced her. She moved the strange canvases and recognised the unusually pretty girl who was featured in many poses, mostly on the same unmade bed, with different facial expressions – a smile, a big laugh. In one, the girl’s eyes were shut. She didn’t know whose bed Katie was sitting on, but she had a pretty good idea.
The lighthouse painting was there, but had been moved to the right of where Sam said he’d put it. Victoria braced herself for the sight of the boy who was so similar to Paul trapped in the cold-looking lighthouse, with an old fisherman as his only company.
Only now the fisherman was gone and the boy in the blue parka was left alone, imprisoned in the stone lighthouse, surrounded by carefully painted white wisps of sea wind.