Emerson Page and Where the Light Enters

by Christa Avampato

  “Ah,” said Jasper. “There you are.”

  He walked toward the piece, and Emerson followed. They both made a complete circle around it to see it from all sides.

  “‘There’s nothing in it,” she said, disappointed.

  “Hmmm,” said Jasper. “Well, then, I guess it can be made into anything you want it to be. Like stories, art isn’t something that we see exactly as it is. Stories and art are mirrors, reflections of who we are and who we hope to be. And this might be the purest example of all.”

  “What is it?” asked Emerson.

  “It’s a Quartervois,” said Jasper. “When you are at a crossroads and don’t know what to do, the Quartervois will show you the way forward.”

  “But it’s not showing me anything.”

  “Then you still have some traveling to do. Your job is to get to the crossroads, Emerson, to really understand the choice before you. Once you’re there, the Quartervois will help you figure out which way to go. If you commit to a path, it will, too.”

  Emerson’s eyes started to fill with tears as she looked at the empty Quartervois.

  “I can’t do this, Jasper,” she said.

  “Do what?” he asked.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Tell you what?”

  “Why didn’t you tell me about the light in me?” asked Emerson. “Like the light in my mother. And my aunt.” Her voiced cracked, and Jasper looked down at the ground.

  “I was trying to protect you,” said Jasper. “We all were.”

  “You hid the truth from me,” said Emerson. “All of you. You saw me struggling, and you didn’t say anything. You didn’t prepare me for this.”

  “We thought we had more time.”

  “I saw her in the In-Between,” said Emerson. “I saw what she’s built. And I don’t know what to do about it, but I feel responsible for it.”

  “You are not responsible for any of it,” said Jasper. “And you’re not alone in this.”

  Emerson held out her hands.

  “Look at these,” she yelled. “Look at my hands. Do you know what they can do or why or how? Because I don’t. I have no idea how to use them. I don’t even recognize them anymore. I don’t know who I am.”

  Jasper’s expression softened. “What is the one thing you want more than anything in the world right now?”

  “To see my mother again. And not as a flame, but as my mother. My real mother. I need to talk to her.”

  “Come with me.”

  Jasper walked back the way they had come and disappeared through the archway. Emerson had no idea what he meant, though she’d learned in the last few days that uncovering one secret always led to uncovering another.

  CHAPTER 40

  A RITE OF PASSAGE

  They seemed to walk forever in silence, the click of their heels echoing in the many marble halls of treasures centuries old. After passing through a series of unmarked doors, Jasper and Emerson wound their way down a wide spiral staircase. With every turn, Emerson’s perspective changed. The constant shifting caused her to imagine that she was burrowing deep into the Earth, safe from anything happening on the surface above.

  The staircase emptied into a narrow hallway shrouded in darkness. It smelled of the fresh and briny sea. The sound of waves crashing onto the shore was all around her.

  “Some light please, Emerson,” said Jasper.

  “I don’t have a flashlight.”

  “You have all the light you need,” he said. “And all the light we need to take this last bit of our journey. Hold one of your hands in front of you, palm facing out, and make the wish you most want to come true. Channel that wish right into the center of your hand.”

  Emerson thought of her mother, of how much she missed her, of how many questions she had for her. Slowly, an outline of soft white light began to glow around Emerson’s hand. Her eyes grew wide with astonishment. The light eventually filled the hallway, and she could see now that it wasn’t a hallway after all but a small room with no windows.

  “That should do just fine. Thank you,” said Jasper. “This is the wall we need to go through.”

  “How do we go through a wall?” asked Emerson.

  Jasper smiled. “Sometimes what appears to be a wall is actually a door, if we approach it with the right intention,” he said.

  They moved toward the wall farthest from them. Emerson’s light illuminated an ocean scene etched onto it. It reminded her of the scene in her room in the library. The wall seemed to ripple, and soon a rowboat floated into view, rowed by a small man. Emerson immediately recognized him.

  “Kondo?” she asked.

  “Evening, or should I say morning, Miss Page,” he said as he removed his hat and bowed his head.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Waitin’ for you, of course. I knew you’d eventually find your way here. You’re a bit early by my count.”

  “And hello to you, too, Kondo,” said Jasper.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, Jasper. You’ll forgive me for being taken by a fresh face in these parts. Especially one as anticipated at Miss Page’s.”

  “You’re forgiven,” said Jasper.

  Kondo smiled wide. “So I guess it’s time, is it?” he asked.

  Jasper nodded. “We’re here to show Emerson the rest of the story. I trust that you can be our able navigator.”

  Kondo waved his hand. “Of course,” he said. “I’ve been waitin’ a good many years now for Miss Page.”

  Jasper turned to Emerson. “It’s time,” he said as he offered his arm for her to take.

  They leaped through the wall together.

  Emerson felt the same sense of freedom she had felt when they descended from the boat pond into the Lake of Possibility. However, this time she felt more purposeful, something akin to soaring rather than falling. She and Jasper spread their arms wide like wings, and the wind brushed across Emerson’s face. She smiled as she took in the sight of more stars than she ever imagined could exist.

  Kondo’s rowboat came into view more clearly as they approached from the sky. Without trying, they slowed to make a perfect, soft landing right into his boat. The gentle rock of the waves cradled them all. Emerson found herself seated directly in front of Kondo. His kind eyes were bright blue, lights of their own in the darkness. No wonder he could navigate the night sky so well. His fine caramel skin and wispy white hair made him seem both young and old, wild and wise. He tipped the brim of his cap to her as she entered the rowboat.

  “Miss Page, it’s an honor.”

  Emerson frowned in confusion. “What is?” she asked.

  “To take you on this journey into my world.”

  “What journey is that?” Emerson looked at Jasper, who was seated next to her.

  “Kondo is the original Starlighter,” said Jasper. “As old as the stars themselves.”

  “You wrote the book Jasper gave me?” asked Emerson.

  Kondo smiled. “Indeed I did, Miss Page,” he said. “I wrote it for your mother. I gave her her light. And yours. And Cassandra’s. And all the descendants of Calliope’s house who came before.”

  Emerson’s mind was filled with questions. “In the book, you wrote that if we listen closely enough we can actually hear the stars, that light isn’t just something we see,” she said. “That it has so many more dimensions than just the way it looks. That it has messages, ancient callings meant just for us. Is that really true?”

  Kondo threw back his head and roared a deep, rich laugh that defied his small size. He dipped two oars into the water, the same kind they had used to go from the boat pond into the Lake of Possibility. The oars began rowing the boat on their own, freeing Kondo from having to row it himself.

  “I’ll let you decide for yourself,” he said.

  Kondo opened his palms, and swirls of l
ight spiraled high into the midnight sky. Like paintbrushes thick with the most vibrant colors, they danced with one another and transformed their colors into magical dreamscapes. Blues and greens and pinks and golds. It was even more brilliant than the Northern Lights she imagined from her travel brochures. And when she listened closely, Emerson could hear the rapid fire of what sounded like faraway whispers of secrets held too long, desperate to be heard. The boat gently came to a stop.

  In the far corner of the sky, Emerson caught sight of one particularly bright star. It floated down until it touched the surface of the water and then began to move toward her. As it got closer, she realized it wasn’t a star at all but a person. A woman.

  Emerson jumped to her feet and ran across the water before Jasper could stop her.

  “Emerson! Emerson, don’t!” Jasper watched with terror and then amazement as her light created a walkway for her across the water.

  Kondo stood up and laughed. “She is so much like her mother,” he said. “All fire, no fear. Jasper, I dare say this one needs very little training. Her heart will be her guide.”

  “That is precisely what worries me,” said Jasper.

  Emerson ran so fast toward the light that she barely felt her legs under her.

  “Mom!” she yelled as she reached the woman encased in light.

  And just as she reached Nora, clad in a flowing white gown of the finest silk, Emerson’s legs gave out. Nora knelt down, and Emerson fell into her. For so long she’d wanted to hug her mother one more time. To feel that safe and loved again was more than her mind and body could bear. She was drained and full all at once.

  “My sweet girl,” said Nora. “My sweet girl.”

  They stayed that way for a long time. Emerson was content to never move again, and she wouldn’t have if Nora hadn’t gently lifted her face to look her in the eyes.

  “So you didn’t really die?” Emerson asked.

  “I crossed over,” said Nora. “When it was my time.”

  “And you’ve been here ever since?” Emerson asked.

  “I think of this place as Heaven’s waiting room with visiting hours,” said Nora smiling. “Do you remember how I always told you that you are magic? Made of stardust and light? That wasn’t just a nice thing for a mother to say to her daughter. We are all made of stardust and light. As ancient as our minds can dare to imagine. Most people can’t take themselves back that far. You and I, and Cassandra, are different.”

  Tears filled Emerson’s eyes. “So it’s true then?”

  “Cassandra’s my sister and your aunt,” said Nora.

  “Jasper told me you had to give yourself over to the light to stop her from doing something very bad.”

  “That’s true. But there’s something he doesn’t know. Something he couldn’t know.”

  “What?”

  “At the last moment, just before I crossed over, her heart changed,” said Nora. “She realized that creativity did belong to everyone, not just a chosen few.”

  “But then why did you have to let your light consume you?” asked Emerson. “You wanted to flood her heart with your light, and it worked, so why couldn’t you stop the process? Why couldn’t you stay with us?”

  Nora’s expression softened. “I tried to stop just before I crossed over, but I couldn’t. I had gone too far to the other side. I had to give myself over to the light. But I could leave behind a spark, the one that now lives in the library. And you can talk to me through that. I can hear you and see you there, no matter where I am.”

  “Can I visit you here again?” asked Emerson.

  “I’m afraid not, my love.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m needed someplace else,” said Nora. “I’ve been waiting here to give you this last message, and then I need to go.”

  “But I need you,” said Emerson. “I’m always going to need you.”

  “Emerson, you have everything you need within you. We are not defined by our words or our actions as much as we are by who we love and what we protect. If you keep love alive, it will keep you alive when everything else has fallen away. That light in you is driven by love. And everything that touches your light becomes your light. Know that. Use that.”

  Nora’s image began to slowly fade.

  “Please don’t leave me again, Mom,” Emerson pleaded. “Please. Please don’t.”

  Nora took her daughter’s face in her hands. “I love you,” she said. “And I want you to have your journey. To have this life. I’ll see you on the other side.”

  Her image faded quickly now, and then she was gone. A bright circle of white light supported Emerson as she cried.

  After a long while, Jasper and Kondo floated beside her in the rowboat. The only sound was the lapping water and Emerson’s sobs.

  “Why did you bring me here?” she asked.

  “So you could get your answers,” said Jasper.

  “They’re not the answers I wanted.”

  “No,” he said. “But they are the answers you needed.”

  Emerson climbed back into the rowboat feeling desperately alone even though she was with her friends. Kondo dipped the oars into the sea, and they rowed across what seemed like a never-ending expanse until Emerson saw her room at the library come into view. Friday was waiting for her.

  CHAPTER 41

  THE NEXT STEP APPEARS

  Emerson hopped through the wall into her room and buried her face in Friday’s fur.

  “I missed you, buddy,” she said.

  Friday barked and ran out the open door into the Atrium. Emerson turned around and saw her dad standing by the flame. She walked over to stand beside him and took his hand. She wanted to tell him about seeing her mom but decided against it. He already looked so lost.

  “Did you know she was here all along?” Emerson asked.

  Oliver nodded. “I knew a part of her was here,” he said. “But I never came to see her. I couldn’t bear it. To be this close and still so far away.”

  Emerson looked at her dad. “Why?” she asked.

  “I felt like I put her here, away from us.”

  “Dad, you didn’t do anything that made her choose this,” said Emerson.

  “And I didn’t do anything to make her not choose this,” he said.

  Emerson turned to face him, but he kept his gaze fixed on Nora’s flame.

  “What does that mean?” asked Emerson.

  “We were fighting, a lot,” he said. “She was in too deep. Or at least I thought she was. I wanted to leave all this behind. I wanted to get out of New York and start over someplace else. Your mother wouldn’t hear of it. Wouldn’t even consider it. She said she’d never be able to live with herself if she didn’t do everything possible to stop Cassandra.”

  Emerson’s head felt heavy with conflicting thoughts. How could he let her mom make this choice? Why hadn’t he done something to keep her with them? Couldn’t Cassandra see that she was tearing them apart? And why had no one thought about how all of this would affect Emerson for the rest of her life?

  Her dad looked so heartbroken but she had to ask him. She had to know.

  “Why didn’t you stop her from ever going to see Cassandra that last time?” asked Emerson.

  Oliver was quiet for a long time as he, Emerson, and Friday stared into the flame.

  “I didn’t know it was going to be the last time,” he said. “I knew what she was doing was dangerous, but she promised she’d be careful. That she’d come back to me. And to you.”

  Now her mother’s words to her on the water made sense—a sad, regretful sense. She hadn’t planned to cross over, but she realized too late that she couldn’t turn back.

  “She did what she had to do in the moment,” he said after a long pause. “Before she left our house that last time, she said she had to do everything she could to help her sis
ter. That it was a part of her purpose.”

  “Couldn’t she have found a different purpose?” Emerson said.

  “You don’t know how many times I’ve had that same thought,” he said. “I’ve come to understand that you can’t change someone’s purpose, Em. And as much as you may want to, you can’t choose it for them.”

  Emerson squeezed his hand even harder with both of her hands.

  “All you can do is love them,” he said. “This was your mother’s path. It always was. And now that I’m here, looking at her, you know what’s weird?”

  Emerson smiled slightly. Everything felt weird now, she thought.

  “I kind of like her like this,” said Oliver. “I miss her. God, I miss her. I miss her hugs and her voice and her smile and her laugh. I miss so much about her. But her being like this—it just seems to fit her. I’m sad that she isn’t what she used to be, but I’m happy for her that she followed her heart. And I’m really proud of her.”

  “I’m proud to be her daughter,” said Emerson.

  “I know she’s proud of you,” said Oliver. “And I am, too.”

  He pulled Emerson close to him and held her tight as if he were trying to hold on to someone who was slipping away.

  CHAPTER 42

  READING BETWEEN THE LINES

  Emerson sat in her bed with Kondo’s book propped up in her lap. The rhythm of the water put her at ease, something she hadn’t felt since arriving at the library. Friday was stretched out at her feet, taking up the entire width of the bed and snoring softly.

  She couldn’t stop thinking about her mother’s comment: “Everything that touches my light becomes my light.” What did she mean when she told Emerson to use that idea? Use it how? And when?

  In The Starlighter, she read:

  No matter what becomes of your story, one thing is certain. You won’t be the same person once it’s done. Stories change us.