“That would be my pleasure.” The woman’s voice was quiet but calm—not unlike water, Quinn thought.
“I’m Aimee. Pleased to meet you.”
“Hey.”
“Come aboard.” Aimee had a disarming smile and gray eyes that seemed to see all of a person. Quinn tried to look away, but couldn’t. For a moment, she forgot all about the butterfly garden, and the pond, and the impossibly-large hen beside her. The water, much colder than Quinn expected, was a sharp reminder that Quinn was not wading into an ocean, at least not as she knew oceans. For starters, the ripples that broke against her thighs and torso impacted with a noticeable thump, then dissipated almost instantly into a shock of glitter. Though she felt cold, the part of her body beneath the surface didn’t drag or resist the current. Even the spray, which coated her exposed skin, defied everything Quinn knew about both solids and liquids. The shining mist tasted sweet on her lips.
“Oh!” Quinn shouted, putting a hand to her mouth worriedly. “The water . . . I drank the water . . .”
“You’re okay,” Aimee said. “Everyone here drinks the ocean. You’re a long way from home, Quinn.”
Quinn relaxed her arm and made her way to Aimee, who reached over and pulled her onto the boat. Quinn was shivering. Aimee produced a woven blanket made from a thick, warm material that reminded Quinn of cotton, though the blanket was light as air to the touch.
“What is this made of?”
Aimee smirked. “I’ve learned a few tricks about this place.” She motioned to the water, then submerged her hand.
Quinn watched in disbelief as a net poured from Aimee’s fingertips.
“Some folks like the land. But with me, well, let’s just say the sea and I have an understanding.”
“Meet you back here when the moons come through?” Meelie interjected.
“We’ll be waiting,” Aimee answered.
“Thank you, Meelie. For everything.” Quinn waved as Meelie climbed onto Pidge and sprinted back toward shore. Quinn thought she heard Meelie say something, but she was too far away for Quinn to make out the words.
Chapter Six
“So what brought you here, Quinn?” Aimee asked, turning the dinghy out to sea.
Quinn explained Riley’s condition. She was careful with the details, a skill Quinn had learned after seven years of filling in teachers on why she missed more school than her peers. Every August, she would use the same analogies, then put one hand on top of the other to illustrate the procedures, just as her mother had done for her. Aimee seemed to study her as she spoke, her eyes collecting moisture like clouds before a storm.
“That’s tough.” Aimee put a hand over Quinn’s and squeezed. “How did you come through?”
“Well, I went to this butterfly garden that my sister likes—I went to leave a note—there’s a pond Riley sits beside for hours—” Quinn stopped to gather her thoughts. “I know the whole thing sounds silly. I don’t actually expect anyone to find my notes and give Riley a heart. Putting all the sadness into . . . prayers, I guess. I hadn’t really thought of the cards that way, but they are like prayers. So I sneaked into the garden and I was going to hide one next to the pond, but then I saw this glowing purple flash—”
“—and you tried to catch the light?”
“Yes! And then I was here, dodging Meelie and her enormous chicken.”
Aimee smiled. “She sure likes that wind in her face.”
“Yeah,” Quinn laughed. “She said she’s been here for eighty years, but she doesn’t look that old. And you—you look like you’re in college. How can that be?”
“Well, I’m sure Meelie mentioned that time is a bit different here. See, the days and nights are a lot like what you’re used to. There’s no sun that comes up, at least not one I’ve seen, but the sky gets lighter, and the temperature rises during the day. The night can get quite cold, and much darker than home since there aren’t any stars.”
“But why doesn’t anyone get old?”
“That’s a bit harder to explain.”
Aimee put her index finger on Quinn’s palm. “If I start here—” She drew a circle with her finger, “and end up here, where I started, has any time passed?”
“Of course. Time doesn’t have anything to do with where you are.” Quinn paused. “Right?”
“Actually, no. When people first come here, they tend to move in a circle, all the way around to where they started. The place you call home.”
“So when I go back—”
“—then you haven’t gone anywhere at all. And while you’re here, this time anyway, your stay is like an interlude. The space between.”
“How do you know all this?”
“I’ve been here for a very long time.”
“How did you get here?”
“Much the same way you did. I was a young girl, about seventeen, and my parents sent me to a school in Paris. They were born in France, but they lived on a small island off the coast of South America. That’s where I was born. Anyway, there wasn’t much in the way of schooling on the island, and my family was well-off, so each year I’d cross the Atlantic in a large clipper ship. One summer, as I was returning home for break, the ship caught fire. I’ve heard that many folks these days believe we were attacked by pirates. The legends really are more magnificent. You ought to look them up when you return. The simple truth, though, is that the water was quite choppy that day, and a lantern fell in the cargo hold. The hold was filled with clothes, so the fire spread quickly. The crew couldn’t get the flames under control, and the boat split in half. As I fell into the water, I saw something move beneath the waves.”
“Like a shark?”
“Goodness no, nothing like that. More like a precious stone, only glowing. I tried to reach for the object, which kept sinking farther and farther. I don’t know why, but I dove under the water. When all my air was gone, I rushed back to the surface, but the ocean was very different. The water wasn’t as heavy and had turned deep purple. Almost like wine.”
“So, you didn’t ask for anything? You just ended up here by accident?”
“I wouldn’t say that, exactly, but I didn’t find this place by searching. And unlike most others, I’ve never left.”
“You mean, you never went back home? Not even once?”
“No.” Aimee stared past Quinn. “I didn’t have anything left to go home to. Besides, I prefer water. The melody here is much simpler.” She let her left hand sink back into the waves. “Doesn’t sound like you have much choice, though. Your sister needs you.”
“Wait . . . if you never went home, does that mean everything and everyone you know is just stuck in time?”
“No. I don’t know how long before things begin to move again, but a few people have taken weeks or even months to decide that they want to return home. We don’t see many of them come back, but the few who have were in shock. The home they had left was not the home they found at the other end of the portal. Life had gone on without them.”
Quinn watched the rope-like strands stream from Aimee’s fingertips. Aimee moved the fingers up and down like she was playing a piano. Beneath the surface, the strands knotted themselves into a net. Before long, small starfish collected near each knot until Aimee had an underwater constellation trailing behind her like some goddess from the stories Quinn read in elementary school.
“Quinn, have you found anything . . . strange here?” Aimee asked after a long while.
“Oh, yes!” Quinn cried out, remembering the bulb she had hidden away in the knapsack Meelie had given her. She retrieved the pulsing object, handing the bulb to Aimee.
“Do you know what this is?” Quinn asked.
“Not exactly, no. Everyone finds what they need here, so I suspect this is what you need to help your sister.”
“You mean—this is a heart?”
“Possibly, yes, or at least something that will help heal her. That’s what you prayed for.” Aimee looked perplexed. “Did you happen to find a message n
earby?”
Quinn nodded and repeated the words she had seen next to the butterfly that morning. “Sounds about right,” Aimee said after a short pause.
“So I just take this to Riley, and she’ll get better?”
“For a little while, yes, but magic doesn’t last forever, Quinn. This is only a temporary fix. Riley will continue to get sick, just like she always has. You’re going to have to make a decision. Do you want to help her for a little while, or do you want her to live a long and healthy life?”
“Obviously I want her to have a long life.”
“Your decision is not that simple. When you go home, things will be different. And every time you visit this place, returning to your family will get harder.”
“I don’t care. I’ll do anything to help Riley.”
“I’m not sure you understand. What I mean is, for each thing you take from this place, you leave a piece of yourself here. The world craves balance that way.”
“So, what—I can leave this magic heart flower here and nothing will change, but Riley will die, or I can heal her and deal with some weird changes?”
“That’s right. But you need to understand, these aren’t innocuous changes that you’ll hardly notice. Your entire history is going to be affected.”
“How much history can I have? I’m fifteen.”
Aimee tightened her jaw. “Quinn, you need to trust me. If you take this bulb to your sister, you must come back at once.”
“So I’m supposed to sneak into my own house like some sort of burglar, give this thing to Riley, and then just leave when no one is looking?”
“Yes.” Aimee’s abruptness startled Quinn.
“I can’t do that.”
“Quinn, listen to me. Don’t linger at home. Things will only be harder for you if you stay. You have to trust me. I’ve seen a lot of people come through here, and one thing I’ve learned is that there’s no such thing as closure. Goodbyes don’t make endings any easier.”
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” Quinn tucked her knees under her chin.
“Okay.” Aimee pulled one of the starfish from her net and slipped the creature into Quinn’s hand. “To remember me, in case you don’t come back. Such a wonderfully human trait, the need to be remembered.” She smiled at Quinn.
“How do I get home?” Quinn’s voice was flat, her eyes fixed on something far away.
“There’s something special about the water here. The oceans and pools act like gateways between this place and what we used to call home. First-timers need to use a very unique pool deep inside the cave Meelie took you to last night. When you’re ready, you’ll use that to go home.”
They didn’t speak for the rest of the afternoon. When the two moons began to peek over the horizon, Aimee steered the boat back toward the sandbar. Meelie was waiting when they arrived. Quinn tried to smile, but her face refused to lie. She climbed onto Pidge’s back, wrapped her arms around Meelie’s waist, and cried all the way back to the cave.
Quinn sat alone for the rest of the night, shifting the weight of the bulb from one hand to the other. She wondered when the heart would be ready for Riley, how she would feel when she saw her sister again. How could she slip out without saying goodbye to Riley, without holding her or reading her a story? But she had to come back, didn’t she? She could stay with Riley and her mom, and Riley would be okay for a while. Wasn’t that the point, all of them together for a little while longer? But then, Riley may never get to drive a car. Or go on a date. Or pick a prom dress or go to college or have—
Quinn was exhausted thinking of all the lives Riley could or could not have. Quinn was only fifteen, and she had to decide how many memories her sister could hold, how many of them had space for Quinn at all.
Chapter Seven
The next morning, Quinn felt something thin brush against her cheek.
“Riley, come on. Go back to sleep.”
Riley loved butterfly kisses, and she often climbed on top of Quinn to bat her lashes on Quinn’s face when she slept in. Quinn forced her eyes open, swatting in the direction of whatever was touching her, but Riley wasn’t there. Instead, she saw a magnificent butterfly with stark-red wings bordered by deep black. The coloring and wing pattern were new to Quinn, even after so many trips to the butterfly garden. As she searched her mind for the name of the insect, she heard someone snoring a few feet away. Quinn realized then that she was still in the cave with Meelie. She pushed herself up to a sitting position, trying to shake the surreal surroundings from her head like a dream, but the floor of the cave cut into her palms. Aimee, Meelie, Pidge—they couldn’t be real. This place couldn’t be real. What sort of place grows hearts, anyway?
“The bulb!”
Quinn searched the ground around her in a frenzy, waking Meelie in the process.
“What’s wrong, kid?” Meelie asked with a yawn.
“The bulb must have slipped from my hand while I was sleeping. I can’t find the bulb, Meelie!”
“Relax, honey. Your bulb is right there.”
Meelie motioned to a pile of blankets between them.
Quinn pulled the blankets from the top of the pile and threw them aside. After a few more moments of panic, Quinn discovered the bulb resting in the center of the pile. “Did I do this?”
“You sure did. You said that you were worried that the bulb might break or get too cold, so you asked me for extra blankets and built a makeshift nest. You don’t remember?”
“No, not at all.”
“Well, I can’t say that’s a surprise. This place is hard enough to make sense of for those without someone back home to take care of.”
Quinn had managed to coax the red butterfly onto her finger. “Do you know what type of butterfly this is, Meelie?”
Meelie studied the wings for a moment. “You know, I think I have seen something like this before. Years back I flew the fire horse down to Mexico City. I remember all sorts of bright-red butterflies on the hike outside the city. The tour guide called them Cramer something-or-others. You ought to look that up . . . when you go home.”
Quinn rolled her eyes. “You give more homework than my teachers. Besides, Aimee said I shouldn’t stick around home if I’m going to keep coming back.”
“And what do you think?”
“Honestly, I don’t know, Meelie. Of course I want Riley to have a good life, to be healthy, to have the chance to experience everything she’s ever dreamed of. But what happens if I come back here? If I keep coming back?”
“You and I both know that those questions are yours to answer, peach.” Meelie spoke with an ominous calm that reminded Quinn of the wall of clouds and green skies before a tornado. Something about the inevitability of destruction allowed grief to sit in the chest without aching. Meelie put her hand over Quinn’s, and the butterfly, which had settled onto Quinn’s forearm, lifted into the air. The wings looked even more red as the insect fluttered past Meelie’s silvery hair.
“Meelie, have you ever seen one of these butterflies here?”
“Can’t say that I have.”
Quinn chewed the inside of her cheek.
“Do you think maybe he’s a sign or something, like maybe this place is telling me that I should go home?”
“Could be, kid. Sounds like you’re picking up on the way this place works.”
“But I’m not ready. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
Meelie pulled Quinn in and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I don’t know, Quinn. Some folks say life never gives you something you can’t handle, but I’ve seen plenty of people buckle.”
Quinn’s chest rose and fell like a sleeping child’s. Tears slid down her cheek and onto Meelie’s jacket.
“I’ve got to say, bunny. You don’t seem the type to buckle. You’re stronger than you think.”
Quinn didn’t respond. They sat together until light streamed into the cave. When Quinn finally straightened her back and looked around, she was stunned by what she
saw. They’d left to find Aimee before the day had taken shape, so Quinn was only just noticing the city of people peppering the cave. What had been her private corner in which to grieve was actually filled with blankets, small fires, and even a few children.
“Who are all these people, Meelie?”
“I tried to tell you, there’s always someone here when you need them.”
“You mean all these people live here?”
“Most of them, yes. Some, like you, are just passing through, wrestling with their own decisions.”
“How come nobody back home has ever heard of this place? I mean, how can this many people go missing and nobody looks? How do people visit and go back without ever talking about what’s here?”
“Oh, I imagine lots of folks talk about what’s here. Trouble is, those folks are eventually forgotten altogether. Sure, the stories might linger in the minds of those back home, but they have a word for all this that sets people at ease.”
“What’s that?”
“Fantasy. Magic. The stuff of children’s books.”
* * *
Quinn wrapped the bulb in a threadbare blanket Meelie had given her, grabbed one of the marshmallow cakes for the walk, then lifted her hand to eye level. She spoke directly to the red butterfly, which had not left her all morning.
“All right. If you’re meant to take me home, we might as well get going.”
The butterfly rose into the air and fluttered deeper into the cave.
Meelie watched as Quinn followed the butterfly into the cave’s far recesses. She hadn’t been sure where Quinn could find the pool of water that Aimee had mentioned. The cave stretched out beneath the desert for miles. She had told Quinn that she had never had much reason to look for a way home, but that wasn’t entirely true. She didn’t share her past with many people, and Quinn had enough to worry about anyway. She tried not to feel guilty about keeping the truth from Quinn.
I don’t know whether or not the butterfly has anything to do with you returning home, she had told Quinn, but since that’s the only clue you have you might as well follow through and see where the little thing takes you. She didn’t have much faith that an insect would lead Quinn to the water, though perhaps getting lost in the caves for a day would help to clear her head. Quinn had confessed that she still hadn’t decided whether or not she would return to this realm. What makes people remember? Quinn had asked her. How long before they forget me entirely? Quinn was beginning to understand that she couldn’t protect her mother. No matter what she decided, her mother would lose a daughter. Which one she would lose, and how, was up to Quinn.
The Kaleidoscope Sisters Page 4