Emerson Page and Where the Light Enters

by Christa Avampato

  A woman suddenly appeared next to Emerson. “Remarkable creature, the Pegasus,” she said.

  She was wrapped in a royal blue cape embroidered with the night sky. The stars on her cape twinkled and moved in a mirror image to the stars above. She carried a small globe topped with a gold-rimmed compass.

  “Where am I?” asked Emerson.

  “The Garden of Prophecy,” said the woman. “People of great destinies come here at one time or another, through their dreams, to ask for help or a sign, and sometimes for a bit of divine intervention. Sometimes I call them to me, when I have information that can help them.”

  She pointed to the sky. “It’s all written up there. That’s where all the answers are. People just need some help deciphering the language of the stars.”

  “Who are you?” asked Emerson.

  The woman bowed her head and extended her cloak to curtsey. “I am Ourania. And I have been waiting for you, Emerson. Do you know why you’re here?”

  “No,” said Emerson.

  Ourania smiled. “I think you have a question for me.” She handed the globe to Emerson. It was midnight blue now, like Ourania’s cloak, and rimmed in gold. The compass continually turned and played a sweet flute melody.

  “I have so many questions,” said Emerson. A heaviness filled her chest.

  “But there’s always one question that stands above the others,” said Ourania. “One that finds us late at night and won’t let us go.”

  “I want to know who I am,” said Emerson. “Who I am really, in my heart. And what I’m supposed to do now.”

  Tears rolled down her cheeks and became lights that floated around her.

  “My whole life’s been shattered into tiny pieces, and I don’t know how to put it back together,” she said. “I feel alone and disappointed and scared, but I can’t tell anyone that. They’re counting on me, and I don’t want to fail them. But I’m already letting them down.”

  Ourania collected one of Emerson’s tears on the tip of her finger and, with a gentle flick, dropped it into the fountain.

  From the small splash made by the teardrop, a child began to grow. Emerson recognized her slowly, the way she might recognize an old friend she hadn’t seen in a long time. She was Emerson as a child.

  Young Emerson took a small silver bag from her pocket and started collecting things from the ground: broken hearts, wilted flowers, and old photographs. With every collected object, Emerson felt lighter. Finally her younger self tied the bag’s tiny strings into a bow. Emerson could hardly believe all those pieces fit in there.

  Young Emerson smiled, blew a kiss, slung the bag over her shoulder, and walked toward the rising sun at the edge of the clearing, leaving a field of fresh green grass and clover in her wake, a field that widened with every step. At the far end of the clearing, she grew a set of wings so the wind could pick her up and let her soar. The breeze carried her up into the sky until she disappeared.

  Emerson felt a cool breeze at her back. She turned and saw an enormous door a hundred feet high with white, wispy clouds all around its edges. She could see a small semi-circle of the floor just inside the door, and it was lined with sparkling emerald tiles.

  “The gate is open,” said Ourania. “You created the door to your future, and now you must walk through it.”

  Emerson smiled, bowed her head to Ourania, and walked through the door, alone but no longer lonely, with fears but no longer afraid.

  She opened her eyes and found herself alone in her room, the gentle waves singing to her from the walls as they always did. Friday was at the foot of her bed, keeping watch, just as he always was. She smiled as she tossed off her covers.

  “Come on, Friday,” she said. “I know where we need to go now.”

  CHAPTER 46

  FIGHT OR FLIGHT

  “There was an accident in the lake,” Jasper said to Oliver. “We’ve been pushing Emerson too hard.”

  “What kind of accident? Is she okay?” Oliver tried to push past him, but Jasper took hold of his shoulders.

  “She’s fine, but you need to take her away from here,” said Jasper.

  “Take who away?” asked Emerson.

  Oliver and Jasper whipped around, startled to see Emerson and Friday standing there. She had an aura about her and seemed more grown up than she was just a few hours ago.

  “You and your father need to leave New York,” said Jasper. “Tonight. And go as far away as possible.”

  “Why?”

  “You need more time to learn and train,” said Jasper. “We’re pushing you too fast.”

  Oliver took her hands in his. “Jasper’s right. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “I’m not leaving.” Emerson’s raised voice brought everyone within earshot into the Atrium—Skylar, Truman, Raymond, Samuel, and Irene.

  “What’s going on?” asked Raymond.

  “Dad and Jasper want me to leave,” said Emerson. She looked at her father. “You’re running away, and you want me to run away, the same way you wanted mom to run away.”

  “That’s not fair, Emerson,” said Oliver. “This is different.”

  “How?”

  “Because you’re still a child. Your mother was a grown-up, three times your age with three times your experience. And Cassandra wasn’t nearly as strong or as angry as she is now.”

  “Look what she’s done, Em,” said Skylar. “She burned down your home. She hunted you down in the hospital. She threatened Truman. She threatened your dad.”

  “What? Why didn’t anyone tell me any of this?” asked Emerson.

  Jasper stepped forward, his voice soft. “We needed to keep you strong. We overwhelmed you with so much; I overwhelmed you with so much. We didn’t want you to worry about us, too.”

  “This is what I’m meant to do,” Emerson said. “This is my purpose, just like it was my mother’s. And no one is going to stop me.”

  “I asked too much of you,” said Jasper. “Just as I asked too much of your mother. I had no right to do that. And I won’t continue to make the same mistakes.”

  Emerson’s eyes filled with tears.

  “I can do this. You know that, don’t you?”

  Jasper was silent for a long moment before he could find the right words.

  “No one in this room has ever questioned your potential,” he finally said. “We all believe in you as much as we believed in your mother. And you’ll be able to fulfill your mission when you’re older and stronger.”

  Emerson turned to the group.

  “Skylar? Truman?”

  “The battle isn’t going away,” said Skylar. “There’s a time and a place for everything. Now isn’t the time for you. You need to develop your gifts, the way that all of us have.”

  “But what will you do if I go away?” asked Emerson. “How will you fend off Cassandra? If I can’t do this, who can?”

  Again, the group was silent.

  “So none of you believe I can do this?” said Emerson. “That I can stand up to Cassandra and win?”

  They all looked away.

  “I did everything you asked of me,” she said. “And sure, I screwed up sometimes and let my emotions get the better of me, but haven’t all of you faced the same doubts and fears? And you all rose up, you got better and stronger, but you don’t think I can. Just because I’m young doesn’t mean I’m weak.”

  “Cassandra will stop at nothing until she gets what she wants,” said Oliver. “She burned down our home.”

  “This is my home now,” Emerson said as she spread her arms wide. “And I will not abandon it and everything it stands for. And I will not let anyone take it away from me. Not even you, Dad.”

  She raced out of the Atrium and down the hallway that Jasper had shown her. Friday matched her speed. Hot tears streaked down her face. Her head full of steam, she ran an
d ran and ran, finally stopping short in front of the Quartervois. With her chest heaving and heart pounding, she looked deep into the blank canvas. She focused on the smallest speck at its center. Her breathing and heartbeat slowed as she collected her awareness at the center of her forehead. She closed her eyes and took herself back to the Garden of Prophecy. She saw Young Emerson pick up all those pieces and fly away. Her heart fluttered, and she blinked her eyes open. Everything felt and looked different.

  The Quartervois was no longer a blank canvas. She saw an image slowly emerge the way that Young Emerson had emerged in the fountain in the Garden of Prophecy. A book lay at the bottom of the sea, glowing and wrapped in chains. Emerson saw her own hands pulling the chains apart and raising the book above her head, then shooting up from the depths of the sea clear into the stars.

  She took a small pad of paper and pen from her back pocket, scribbled a note, and tucked it inside Friday’s collar.

  “Go back to the library and give this to Dad, okay?”

  Friday hesitated.

  “Go on. I’ll be fine,” she said. “I’ve got to do this on my own.”

  He gave a small whine, and Emerson kissed the top of his head. Then she sent him back through the door. He loafed in the hallway at first and finally broke into a trot. Once he was out of sight, Emerson wound her way up to the main entrance of the museum and burst out onto the blustery street. She headed up the hill behind the museum toward Central Park.

  CHAPTER 47

  BLOOD AND WATER

  The cold night air put a spring in Emerson’s step. Her breath felt full and deep. Her whole life had led her to this one act that she knew would redefine everything. She was clear on her mission, and she resolved to move forward, alone if necessary. She’d show everyone that she was ready for this, that she was no longer a child who needed protection.

  Thunder rumbled overhead. Emerson remembered the last time she’d taken this path past the boathouse in the opposite direction. She had been so battered and bruised, inside and out. She remembered the rounding of her shoulders against the wind, the throbbing in her swollen cheek. Now, she held her head high and let her heart be open. As she approached Bethesda Fountain, she saw a tall, willowy figure, the same one that had blocked her path on the mountain in the lake.

  “I knew you’d find me,” Cassandra said. “You are so like your mother. Dependable and trusting.”

  Though Emerson felt the heat rise in her belly, she was able to keep it in check and conceal her light. Cassandra took several slow steps toward her. Emerson didn’t budge.

  “I have what you want,” said Emerson.

  “I know,” said Cassandra. “You are what I want. You are my family.”

  “I have the book.”

  “The book?” said Cassandra, tilting her head to one side.

  “Our family’s book, by Calliope,” said Emerson.

  Cassandra’s eyes widened. “You have it with you?”

  “No,” said Emerson. “Meet me tomorrow night, at nine, on the steps of the Metropolitan Museum of Art.”

  Cassandra hugged Emerson. She felt an unexpected rush of kindness and love toward her aunt, and that horrified her. She backed away.

  “I have to go,” she said.

  “Tomorrow at nine,” said Cassandra.

  Emerson nodded and broke into a run. Once she was over the hill and at the edge of the boat pond, she scanned the area. She was alone, mercifully alone.

  In Kondo’s book, she’d read about a method to tap into the light within her so she could clear her mind and see things as they truly were. She put her hands, one on top of the other, over her heart, and the weight of her hands steadied her. She stood at the edge of the pond for a long time with her head up and her heart open. She pinpointed all her confusion and fear onto one spot at the center of her forehead just as she had at the Quartervois. She let her worries gather there, hoping that by giving them a place to land, she would find the solutions she needed.

  The light flooded into her. When this happened before, she had felt weak and exhausted. Now the light buoyed her. It made her feel powerful and safe. She stood at the edge of the boat pond and tried to even out her breath. The pounding in her head faded.

  “What am I supposed to do now? That is my question,” she said, remembering Ourania’s advice. “Who am I?”

  Emerson felt light and free, despite her heavy heart and mind.

  “That’s the greatest puzzle there is,” said a girl’s voice.

  Emerson jumped, and the girl giggled.

  “I didn’t mean to frighten you,” she said. It was Alice. Alice in Wonderland. The statue next to her had come to life.

  “I’m sorry to have given you a shock, Emerson,” said Alice. “I’ve just been cooped up for so long. I’m glad to have the chance to stretch my legs and walk about a bit. And I’ve been longing to do some traveling.”

  “How can you do that?” asked Emerson.

  “I was born through spontaneous imagination. I’m a product of the type of light that lives in you, the light of inspiration. So when you glowed, I answered.”

  “Answered?”

  “You need my help,” said Alice. “You need to get down there, into the lake, and I’m an expert at falling down into new worlds, if I do say so myself. And I do say so!”

  “But we don’t have a boat or oars,” Emerson said.

  “I’ve learned that it’s best to just believe in impossible things because with enough time, everything is possible,” said Alice.

  She grabbed Emerson’s glowing hand, and they stepped onto the water of the boat pond. Then they walked to the middle of the water, where Alice turned to Emerson and took both her hands in hers.

  “Now you must ask a question, the question you most want to answer,” she said. “Hold it in your mind. 1, 2, 3.”

  They fell down through the same shaft of light that had led Emerson into her new world. The fall was much shorter this time. They didn’t end up in a gondola on the Lake of Possibility. They were outside Stargrass Paper, or at least Emerson thought they were.

  “This feels strange,” she said.

  “Of course it’s strange,” said Alice. “If it weren’t strange, it wouldn’t be a discovery.”

  “I know Stargrass so well, but something feels different,” said Emerson.

  She scanned the outside of the building and the surrounding block. All the edges looked soft and blurred, but the colors were especially bright, almost overexposed. It was as if a thin barrier insulated her from her surroundings.

  “Well, then, let’s open the door and find out what’s changed,” said Alice with a smile.

  “But what if we’re not supposed to open it?”

  “If we’re not supposed to, then we definitely should. Don’t you want your life to be an adventure?”

  “Yes,” said Emerson.

  “Then you have to be willing to open the door you think you can’t open.”

  Alice walked into Stargrass, and Emerson followed her.

  Jasper sat at his desk, scanning oversized volumes of gold-leafed pages. Alice was distracted by the soaring shelves of books.

  “This is incredible,” said Alice. She approached Jasper’s desk.

  “Sir, can you tell me where I am?” she asked.

  Jasper ignored her. Emerson was confused. He never ignored anyone.

  “Sir!” Alice exclaimed. “It’s quite rude to ignore someone when she asks you a question.”

  Still, Jasper didn’t respond.

  “Jasper, can you hear me?” asked Emerson.

  Nothing. She reached out to close his book, but her hand went right through it. Startled, she turned to the bookshelf behind her and tried to remove a book, and the same thing happened.

  “Ah, I see now,” said Alice.

  She moved behind Jasper to look ove
r his shoulder at the book. He paid her no mind.

  “What are you doing?” Emerson hissed.

  “I’m not doing anything. It’s you, Emerson. You took us to a memory stored in the lake,” said Alice.

  “Me? I don’t know how to do that.”

  “You don’t need to know anything except that you need to know something. The lake realized it could best answer your question with a story. We’ve stepped into someone’s memory, and this memory will help you answer the question you asked. What did you want to know?”

  “I asked to see the good in Cassandra that my mother saw right before she died,” said Emerson.

  Before Alice could respond, two girls tumbled through the front door of Stargrass and ran to Jasper. They carried bookbags and wore matching school uniforms.

  “Jasper,” said one of the girls as she ran to him. He opened his arms wide and hugged them both at once.

  “How was school today?” he asked.

  “It was great,” said the other girl. “But Cassandra got in trouble.”

  “That’s my mother,” Emerson said to Alice. “And my aunt.”

  “What kind of trouble?” Jasper asked Nora. Cassandra looked down at the ground.

  “It wasn’t her fault,” said Nora. “Someone was picking on me.”

  “Why would someone pick on you?” asked Jasper.

  “They made fun of my scar,” said Nora. “Billy Bell said I looked like Frankenstein and that I was broken and cracked and a monster. He said Cassandra was, too, because she has the same kind of scar. She was sticking up for us, and he pushed her, and she pushed him back, and he fell down hard on his bottom and started crying. And then she jumped on top of him and started choking him. She told him if he ever hurt my feelings again, she’d wring his skinny little neck until he couldn’t breathe.”

  Jasper’s eyes grew wide, and he was silent for a long time.

  “Do you know how you and Cassandra got those scars?” he asked.

  “Kind of,” said Nora.

  “There was something wrong with our hearts, and they needed to be fixed,” said Cassandra. “If they didn’t fix them, we would have died.”