“Where’s Quinn, boy? Have you seen her this morning?”
Butterfly looked up, then let out a soft whine. He nuzzled his head into Jane’s chest.
“I know. I’m worried too. What do you say we go and look for her?”
Jane walked to the front door and pulled Butterfly’s leash from a hook. As soon as Butterfly heard the clip thump against the wall, he ran to Jane, who bent down and attached the leash to his collar. She didn’t really know where to start, but she reasoned that Quinn had left on foot. She couldn’t drive yet, and, as far as Jane knew, Quinn didn’t have any friends older than her. Jane led Butterfly onto the porch and shut the door behind her, careful not to lock the deadbolt in case Quinn had forgotten her house key. The two of them turned toward the butterfly garden out of habit. That was as good a place to look as any, Jane figured.
Chapter Seventeen
Once her eyes adjusted, Quinn found that night in the other realm wasn’t that dark at all. Rather, the twin moons turned the sky the color of grape juice, and the desert sand glittered whenever the wind shifted. Curious, she took several steps away from the cave wall and kicked a patch of sand. Ripples of light immediately spread out from her foot in the direction she had swung her leg. That settled things. Quinn would be able to move through the desert easily enough, so she had no reason to wait until morning. She crept back into the cave and swiped a few marshmallow cakes from the closest campsite before deciding on a direction and setting out into the night.
As she walked, Quinn ruminated over her conversation with Meelie. What had she said to get under Meelie’s skin? She had stormed off before Quinn could explain that she hadn’t just come back for the school project. Despite her best efforts, Quinn couldn’t convince herself that Riley was simply sick. She was too familiar with the rattle in her sister’s lungs. Riley was declining again, and Quinn didn’t know how quickly she would deteriorate. She wanted to talk to Meelie, but she had to find Aimee. Aimee was the only one who could help her understand why her mom had been forgetting things, and where to find another one of the bulbs to help Riley. Even if Riley didn’t need one yet, she would need one eventually. She had been naïve to think that she could heal her sister permanently with one trip.
How long have I been here? Quinn wondered. Without the familiar routines of home, she had trouble estimating how much time had elapsed. What if Riley woke up to an empty room? What if her mother had already noticed that she was gone? Quinn felt sick. She wasn’t the type to rush into things without thinking. She should have known that coming back to the other realm was foolish. Aimee had tried to warn her, but Quinn had refused to listen. Now she was blindly wandering the desert. She had left her sister alone and her mother to worry. She tried not to feel guilty, but of course that only made things worse. Quinn simply wasn’t accustomed to putting her own desires ahead of her family. She was so preoccupied with self-loathing that she didn’t notice the sound of waves crashing until the water rushed over her feet. She had found the ocean. Now to find Aimee.
* * *
Quinn scanned the horizon as she walked. The moons were beginning to fade, and the ocean took on an iridescent hue that shifted between deep blues and rich purples as the water moved. If the day was beginning here in the other realm, Quinn reasoned that she had been gone for at least ten hours. Her mother would be awake, Riley may already be at school. Was her mother worried? That’s a stupid question. Of course she’s worried. She thinks I’m missing. Quinn’s fingers were numb, and her head began to buzz. She was still chastising herself for being so reckless, for disregarding Aimee’s and Meelie’s warnings, for not thinking about how her disappearance would affect Riley and her mother.
“Quinn!”
Quinn looked up to see Aimee waving from a sailboat a few hundred yards from shore.
“Aimee! I’m so glad I found you!” Quinn shouted back.
All the fear and grief and guilt she had been carrying rushed into her throat. She began to sob, straining for breath as her chest heaved up and down.
“I need your help,” she called, her voice nearly inaudible.
Aimee dipped her fingers into the water, moving them as though she were playing a concerto in double time. The strange netting stretched out from the boat, this time much thicker and more tightly woven. Quinn watched as Aimee climbed onto the makeshift raft, then sat directly in the center with her legs crossed. The tide pulled her toward Quinn, who took off her socks and shoes before wading a few feet into the water.
“What are you doing here, Quinn?”
“I don’t know,” Quinn bawled. She recounted her conversation with Meelie as best she could, then explained her mother’s memory loss and her fear that Riley was relapsing.
“I tried to warn you—” Aimee began.
“I know,” Quinn interrupted. “I know. I should have listened to you, but I didn’t and now I’m here, and my mother
is probably panicking, and Riley is getting sick again, and—”
“Quinn, stop. What’s done is done. You need to focus on what you can control.” Aimee was stern, yet her words comforted Quinn. The benefit of three hundred years of wisdom, no doubt.
“You mean Riley?” Quinn wiped her eyes, trying hard to regain her composure.
“Yes. If her heart is giving out, you must find a new one and get back to her as quickly as possible.”
“But how? I didn’t find the bulb last time. One just appeared.”
“Do you remember what else was nearby?”
Quinn told her about the butterflies with red-and-black wings that had led her home.
“Then that’s where you start. Find those butterflies. Maybe they’ll lead you to another heart flower.”
“But . . . what if they don’t?”
“You can only work with what you know. You must always move forward. You can’t change direction if you’re standing still.”
Quinn wasn’t convinced, but what choice did she have? Those butterflies were her best chance at finding a new heart and, most importantly, the way home. Just as Quinn turned to leave, Aimee called after her and tossed something onto the shore. Quinn bent down to inspect the ropes. She saw that Aimee had been busy weaving while they talked. In her hands, Quinn held her very own butterfly net.
* * *
Quinn turned the butterfly net over in her fingers. Most of the net was woven tightly, but the rope was light and flexible. One end came to a broad point, while the other had a rigid circular opening. There was a small length of rope extending from the opening which Quinn could use to secure a stick or pole, if she could find one. She scanned the beach as she walked, looking for anything that might work. The sand was empty of debris, but Quinn saw familiar scratches every few feet—footprints from Meelie’s chicken! Quinn had a surge of energy and began to run, following the scratches.
“Meelie!” Quinn shouted, her chest heaving.
She swung her head back and forth, looking for any sign of her friend. She had forgotten how thick the air was in the other realm, and she hadn’t gone far when she began to wheeze. Her lungs burned. She stopped, raising her hands above her head to try to catch her breath. Meelie was nowhere in sight. Once again, Quinn was entirely alone.
Quinn fell to her knees and sobbed. She knew that she should be searching for the red-and-black butterflies, for heart flowers and the mystical pond that would take her home, but all she could think about was how quiet and bare the other realm was. The cave had been filled with people, yet no one had noticed Quinn and Meelie fighting. No one had stirred when Quinn set out into the night. Aimee had been helpful, but she clearly preferred solitude. Why else would she stay on a boat for centuries? And Meelie. Who could tell with Meelie? One minute she acted like a cross between a grandmother and a friend, and the next she was putting out the fire and storming into the darkness.
“Well, I’ll say this, bunny. You’re anything but a quitter.”
Quinn looked up to see Meelie, who was perched atop her chicken.
“Meelie! I’m so sorry—” she started, trying to quell her tears. “—I didn’t mean to upset you. I was just—”
“Not at all,” Meelie broke in. “That was my own damn fault. I keep to myself around here, and I’m afraid I’m not accustomed to folks knowing about my sister.”
Quinn could see that Meelie had been crying. Her eyes were streaked with red and the skin around them was swollen.
“I just want to understand, Meelie. Why didn’t you go back to her? Were you two not close?”
“We were inseparable.”
“Then why? Did something happen? Did you have a fight?”
Meelie bit her lip. “No, we didn’t have a fight.”
She stared past Quinn, watching the waves crest and disappear into the loam.
“I stayed for much more selfish reasons. Reasons I haven’t told anybody here. I don’t know why I’m telling you now, except that you strike me as the sort to figure things out anyway, so I might as well speak plain.”
Quinn walked closer to the chicken, and Meelie held out a hand.
“My mother says I get my stubbornness from my father,” Quinn said. She wrapped her arms around Meelie’s waist.
“It’s a long story, kid. And I imagine you need to get home fast as you can.”
“Then let’s get started.”
Chapter Eighteen
Butterfly tugged at the leash, barking hysterically.
“What’s wrong, boy?”
Jane was in a jog trying to keep up with Butterfly, who was desperately weaving through the park toward the butterfly garden. They were crossing through the gate when her phone rang. “Quinn?” she said into the receiver.
“No, ma’am. This is Patricia Cline with the front office at Star Creek Elementary School. I’m calling to speak with Riley Willow’s mother.”
“I’m Riley’s mother.” Jane could feel her pulse quicken. She sat down on a bench, tightening her grip on Butterfly’s leash. “Is everything okay? What’s happened?”
“Oh, nothing to worry about, ma’am. Your daughter is in the nurse’s office. She’s running a small fever and asked us to call you.”
“But she’s—nothing happened? She just doesn’t feel well?”
Jane was torn. She preferred to keep Riley close when she was ill. She often couldn’t tell when Riley had a simple cold or when her heart was working too hard. Still, her worry for Quinn was swelling in her stomach. She just knew that Quinn wouldn’t leave on her own, not for this long and not without telling Jane.
“That’s correct, ma’am.”
“So she doesn’t need to come home?” The words were sour in Jane’s mouth. She’d never been forced to choose between her two daughters.
“We really do prefer students with even a small fever to stay at home for at least twenty-four hours.”
An entire day, Jane thought. How would she explain that Quinn was missing? No, she had to keep searching.
“I’m sorry. I’m not able to pick her up at the moment—ouch!”
Butterfly ripped free and barreled toward the pond at the center of the butterfly garden.
“Damn it, Butterfly!”
Jane ran after him, still clutching the phone. When he reached the pond, he stopped and began barking frantically. Jane raised the phone back to her ear, trying to catch her breath.
“Hello? Ms. Willow, are you still there?”
“Yes, I apologize. My dog, he—”
“As I was saying, Ms. Willow. We really do need someone to come pick up Riley as soon as possible. Perhaps her father is available?”
“No!” Jane’s face was hot with anger. “Don’t you people keep notes? My daughter has been going to your school for three years, and you still don’t know that there is no father? There never has been. Damn it, I don’t need this today!” She sank to the ground and sobbed into the phone.
“I’m so sorry, Ms. Willow. I don’t know why that information isn’t in the system. I’ll make a note of that right now.”
“No, no—I’m sorry—I’m just—I’m—” Jane couldn’t get a full sentence out through the tears. She shut her eyes and took a long, deep breath, then said, “I’ll be right there.”
She hung up the phone without waiting for a reply. Once she had recomposed herself, she smoothed her jacket and led Butterfly from the garden. He kept his eyes on the pond all the way to the gate.
* * *
Jane steered into an empty space and switched off the car. She flipped the visor down and checked her face in the mirror. Sure enough, she had red splotches on her cheeks and neck, and her eyes were nearly swollen shut.
Great, she thought. The office staff will think I’m absolutely insane. She ran a baby wipe over her face, popped a mint into her mouth, and squared her jaw. She had been hiding her worry from Riley for years. Why should today be any different?
“Hello, I’m Jane Willow, Riley’s mother,” she said as she entered the main office. “I received a call to come pick her up.”
“Oh, yes. I’m Patricia, the one you spoke with on the phone. Riley’s in with the nurse. I’ll go get her for you.”
Jane paced. She still didn’t know what she was going to tell Riley when she asked about Quinn. She glanced at the clock: 10:30 a.m. Quinn’s school usually didn’t let out until half past three, which meant she had about five hours to think of something believable, six if she lied and said that Quinn was staying after school to do research.
“Hey, mama,” Riley said, rounding the corner.
“Hey, sweetie. How are you feeling?”
She felt Riley’s forehead with the back of her hand, then brushed a strand of hair from her daughter’s face.
“I’m really tired.”
Jane signed Riley out, carrying her book bag as they walked to the car. In the sunlight, she could see that Riley was much paler than she had been in recent days.
“Have you been throwing up?”
“No, why?”
“I think we ought to go see Dr. Howe . . . just to be safe.” She said the last few words for her own benefit, but they did nothing to ease her concern. One daughter was missing; the other could scarcely breathe.
Jane turned the key and headed for the hospital. She was in a daze, but she knew the way better than she knew the lines on her own hands. One day, she told herself, I’ll forget these roads entirely. Someday they’ll be nothing but stray marks on a tired map, and I won’t remember them at all.
But not today. Today, her daughter was already sleeping in the backseat. Today, as so many days before, she would carry Riley to a cold bed covered in white paper. Today, she dreamed only of a world without purple. A world where blue and red never fought for her daughter’s air.
Chapter Nineteen
Quinn plopped onto a flat rock and raised her hands above her head, trying to catch her breath. She and Meelie had been searching the caves for the pool Quinn had used to get home, but without the red butterflies to lead them, they weren’t having much luck. Quinn’s feet were beginning to blister; she couldn’t imagine how Meelie was feeling with her leather boots. They would have ridden Pidge, but the rocky ground and narrow passages were too much for her, and so they left her at the mouth of the cave with Betty’s and Martha’s other siblings. Betty and Martha, for their part, had volunteered to help search the caves.
“You okay, bunny?”
“I’m fine,” Quinn wheezed. “Just need a minute.” She couldn’t help but laugh at the irony. “Do people ever get used to the air here?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I never did pay much mind myself. I suppose I was built for an atmosphere like this after all that time in the clouds.”
As they walked, Meelie told Quinn all sorts of stories about her life before the crash. She went on and on about the planes she’d flown, different types of engines and cockpits. Quinn couldn’t follow most of the lingo, but she noticed a tremor in Meelie’s voice when she recalled her sister. The two had a lot in common with Quinn and Riley: they were best friend
s, and Meelie felt a strong urge to protect her younger sister, which confused Quinn.
“How come you never went back?” she asked, picking pebbles from the ground and tossing them down a passage to one side.
“Quinn . . .”
“I just don’t understand. You loved your sister same as me. Why didn’t you want to see her again?”
Meelie sighed. “Pidge wasn’t the one I didn’t want to see.”
“Then who?”
“Everybody else.”
Quinn rolled her eyes.
“We all have ghosts, you know,” Meelie said.
“What are yours?”
“History. All that history.”
“But people love you. You’re in all kinds of books. You’re a hero.”
“Because I stayed here.”
Quinn frowned, tossing another pebble into the blackness.
“I’m sorry,” Meelie said. “I don’t mean to speak in riddles. There’s just—I’m a hero because of the way I left, don’t you see? No one would remember a pilot who crashed in the ocean and lived out her life on some farm. We bury our heroes; the living, that’s who we forget. And what a tomb I made of that sea.”
“So, you left your family because you wanted to die a hero?”
“Not my best moment, I admit.”
“But you were already a hero, the greatest woman pilot ever.”
Meelie kicked at the ground. “I wasn’t the best. And plenty of folks knew better, too. But the papers—they were kind to me. That crash—I’d have never lived that down.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Damn it, kid. I don’t want to talk about that life anymore!” She stormed into the dark passage without waiting for Quinn.
Quinn rose and chased after her. “Come on, Meelie. Wait up!”
The passage was so dark that Quinn could hardly see her own hands. She was still running when she bumped into Martha, her figure outlined by a faint, purple fog. Quinn followed her gaze to the wall on her left. She could make out a small square that appeared to have been polished down, almost like a plaque or sign. In the center of the square, she saw a message:
The Kaleidoscope Sisters Page 10