by J. G. Kemp
She imagined her mother as a child, in this room, sitting at the desk, or sifting through clothes in the dresser, or lying on the bed and listening to the ocean. She took a deep breath and sighed. Where are you, Mom? she thought.
And then suddenly, Mary remembered! It rushed into her mind—she remembered her mother and she remembered wind chimes—the beautiful sound of wind chimes. She remembered lying in her own bed, at dusk, in the house in the mountains, and listening to her mother play the violin. She remembered how the sound of the violin blended so beautifully with the wind chimes outside, and she remembered how her mother would hide a key to the house on the wind chimes.
Mary scrambled off the bed, and sprinted out of the room—down the stairs, through the great room, through the swinging doors, through the kitchen, and out the back door. There, attached to the wall, hanging just above her head, were the wind chimes, and attached to the wind catcher, swaying back and forth in the breeze, was a large metal key!
Chapter 10
The Observatory
A thin metal wire attached the key to the wind-catcher. Mary stretched up, standing on her toes, to reach it. It was coated with rust. I wonder how long it’s been here, Mary thought. As she untwisted the wire, she imagined the key and the wind chimes flailing and thrashing in hurricane winds. She imagined them hanging perfectly still on hot, summer afternoons. She imagined them coated in ice on winter nights, silenced, and when the sun rose and melted the ice away how the clear notes would ring again.
When she had released the key, Mary hurried back inside. The house was eerie in the dusk—the shadows creeping from the corners, lurking forward against the fading light. She passed through the kitchen, and as she approached the large red door in the corner of the great room, she thought of the forbidden door—how she had opened it nearly a week ago, with her sister by her side. How all this—being sent to the Institute, the journal from her grandmother, Evergreen Isle—it all started after she had opened that door. She knew, somehow, that after opening this door too, the door that stood locked in front of her, that her life would never be the same… and so Mary quickly unlocked it and opened it wide!
She half-expected to smell musty books and see columns of stacked paper on the floor, but there were none. The room didn’t smell like paper, it didn’t smell like anything. It was empty… completely empty. The bookshelves between the windows were empty, and there was no other furniture—no desks, no chairs, no lamps.
The dim light which came through the windows was a deep red color, and as Mary stepped forward, she noticed the floor was inlaid with beautiful geometric designs—intricate patters of circles and triangles and ovals and rings and spirals. She bent down and ran her fingers across the smooth surface and then—CLANK!
She jumped back!
A loud metallic sound had echoed underneath her and above her and there was a loud humming, like the sound of a motor. The floor in front of her was dropping, and the dome ceiling above her was opening from the middle. The thought flashed across her mind that the whole island had been a slumbering giant, and the circular room was the giant’s eyeball, and she had awoken it—its eye was open!
Directly in front of her, rising slowly out of the hole in the floor, was a huge telescope. It’s an observatory! Mary realized. The telescope was supported by a metal frame that was attached to a circular platform, which also held a chair and a small desk. When the dome above had fully opened, and the telescope had ascended, there was a resounding clunk… and the room was silent.
Three steps led up the raised platform to the telescope’s eyepiece. Mary knew her mother was an astronomer, and her aunts, and her grandma, but she had never looked through a telescope, Uncle Edwin had forbidden it. Everything she knew about space she had only read about in books.
She admired the telescope for a moment—its sleek black surface and great width, as thick as the trees from the ancient forest she had seen earlier that day. She climbed the three steps to the platform. Upon the desk were some papers and a book and a row of buttons and a small screen. Mary squinted in the dim light and could barely make out a series of numbers on the display.
To the right of the buttons was a dial. Mary turned it to the left—there was a loud clunk and the whole platform turned, like a carousel, to the left! She turned it back to the right—the platform turned to the right! She felt a sudden thrill of excitement, like she was in control of the island giant—in control of its great eye.
Beside the dial was a small lever. She pushed it up—a motor hummed and the telescope moved up, pointing it higher into the sky. She pushed the lever down, and the telescope moved back down.
Mary grinned and then settled in the chair and stared above her. The half-moon was overhead, and beside it were two bright points of light. She turned the dial a little to the left… a little more… and a little more, and then held the lever until the telescope pointed at the half-moon.
There were two eyepieces on the telescope. Mary looked through the larger one—there was nothing visible but the dark blue sky. She looked through the smaller one and saw a pair of crosshairs and the moon off to the side. It’s a viewfinder, she thought. Using the controls she carefully maneuvered the telescope until the moon was in the center of the crosshairs. I wonder if my mom did this?
She looked into the larger eyepiece—there was the moon! Bigger and more wonderful than she had ever imagined! It was only half lit by the sun, but she could see a faint outline of the dark half. It looked like a perfect ball, just floating above her; like she could just reach out and grab it, and toss it up and down.
On the line between the dark half and the light half, Mary could see, in sharp relief, the features of the lunar landscape: the craters, the mountains, the texture of its surface. If she were standing on the moon, she thought, at that very place, she would be watching the sun set on the lunar horizon, her long shadow cast alongside the shadows of the craters.
For minutes she studied the moon’s surface, entranced. It’s another world, she thought. A real world. Mary imagined scooping up a handful of moon dust and letting it sift through her fingers. She imagined jumping high off the surface. She marveled at the tremendous force that kept the moon in orbit around the earth. Even if the island were a giant, she thought, it would only be a tiny speck compared to the moon.
She remembered the two points of light shining above, and using the viewfinder and the controls, she maneuvered the telescope towards one of them. When she looked into the eyepiece, she saw a beautiful little ball, wrapped in subtle bands of tan and gray, that she recognized at once. It was Jupiter, with its swirling, striped atmosphere. Four tiny points of light hung next to the planet—Jupiter’s four largest moons. They were four perfect, wonderful, little dots, she thought. Mary imagined them in orbit, sped-up, like horses on a carousel, spinning, day after day and year after year, like a clock in space keeping perfect time. She imagined herself standing on the surface of Jupiter, watching all four moons dance around her.
She grinned and then carefully aimed the telescope at the other point of light and looked into the eyepiece. A huge smile grew on her face. It was Saturn. She thought it looked like someone had made a tiny paper cut-out of the planet and taped it inside the telescope. It’s perfect. Its ring is perfect. It’s small and plain and colorless and absolutely perfect, Mary thought. How far away it must be. She thought of the sunlight landing on the surface of the moon, and on Jupiter, and shining on her face in the apple orchard just a few hours ago. She wondered how long it took for the sunlight to travel all the way to Saturn, and then back to Earth, to her eyes. Maybe, she thought, the sunlight she was seeing now, reflected off the distant planet of Saturn, left the sun at the same time as the light she enjoyed in the orchard.
Suddenly, Mary felt like Saturn was not so far away at all; she felt connected to it, to Jupiter, to the moon, to all that wandered, together, around the sun. She was a part of it. Where are Julee and Elliot? she thought. She had to s
how them. She turned from the telescope and jumped down all three stairs leading off the platform and ran out of the observatory. “Julee! Elliot!” she shouted. “Where are you?”
The front door opened suddenly. “Mary, what is it?” answered Elliot anxiously.
“I found the key! It’s an observatory! You have to see this!” Mary could barely make out the shapes of Elliot and Julee standing in the dark, and then all of a sudden, there was a loud clang and the sound of the motor again.
“What’s that?” Elliot asked, surprised.
“Oh no! Why is it closing?” Mary ran back into the observatory and watched, stunned, as the telescope slowly disappeared into the floor and the dome closed overhead.
“Wow… that’s cool,” said Julee from the doorway. There was a clunk, and the observatory was dark and empty again.
“There has to be a switch or something,” Mary said. “Help me look.” She ran to the wall and began feeling in the dark for anything that might bring the telescope back: a switch, a button, a lever… anything. Julee and Elliot stood in the doorway, motionless. “Come on, we have to bring it back, I have to show you,” Mary pleaded again.
“Um…Mary…I can’t see anything in there,” said Elliot, “…show us what?”
Mary continued searching. “Saturn, and Jupiter, and the Moon—they were amazing, I have to show you, you wouldn’t believe it.”
“Yeah… it’s pretty dark,” said Julee. “Maybe you can show us tomorrow.”
Mary stopped and hung her arms down and sighed. She knew they were right, there wasn’t enough light. “Where were you two anyway?” she asked curiously.
“After we picked some more apples,” Elliot answered, “we sat on the wall and watched the water as it got dark… and talked. You want one?” She held out an apple. “Where was the key anyway?”
Mary took the apple and spoke rapidly as she left the observatory, walking towards the couches in the great room. “Right after you left, I heard the wind-chimes outside, and I remembered my mom used to hide a key to our house on wind-chimes. So, I went down to look, and there was the key, attached to the wind-catcher, ya know, the thing that swings back and forth and knocks the chimes. After I opened the door, the telescope came out of the floor, and the ceiling opened up, all on its own. I don’t know how it happened… or why it closed again.” She settled on a couch and looked at the apple and took a bite.
“Weird,” said Julee. “I wonder why it just turned on.” She glanced nervously around the room. “It’s creepy not having any lights,” she added.
“The observatory has power,” said Mary. “Maybe tomorrow we can figure out how to get the lights to work too.” She reclined and put her feet up on the couch and then shivered. The temperature was dropping.
“I wonder if Henry and Ben are alright,” said Elliot.
“Hey, at least they have lights down there,” said Julee.
“Yeah,” added Elliot, “I wonder if they’re cold.”
“I hope Henry is,” said Mary. “Hey, what if we get the blankets off of the beds and sleep out here tonight, on the couches?”
“That sounds good to me,” said Julee. “I don’t wanna sleep in one of those bedrooms by myself. This place still gives me the creeps, especially in the dark.”
Elliot nodded in agreement.
“I’ll get the ones off my mom’s bed,” said Mary excitedly. “There should be enough for all of us.” And she swung her legs off the couch, popped up, and skipped to the turret leading upstairs.
It was fully dark now. The only light was the moonlight shining in through the windows. On her way up the stairs, Mary glanced outside. The great mountain seemed bigger than ever, its massive shape silhouetted against the night sky.
In the bedroom, Mary gathered the big quilt, the comforter, and the blankets that were on her mother’s bed. I wonder how long this has just been sitting here, with no one using it? she thought. With her arms full and the bedding stacked above her eyes, she squeezed through the doorway and floundered down the stairs, bumping into the walls along the way. As she entered the great room, Elliot and Julee laughed.
“You look like… a giant walking mushroom,” Elliot giggled.
Mary bumped into the end table and knocked off a stack of books. “Oops,” she said, and dropped the bedding in a pile on the floor. “Help yourselves.”
The girls sorted through the blankets, and after a few minutes they were lying comfortably on the couches, snuggled under the covers.
“What a crazy day, huh?” said Julee.
“The craziest,” replied Mary.
“Just think,” Elliot continued, “everyone else who went to the Institute is sleeping on that island, in a new place, with new friends, like we were supposed to be.”
“I wasn’t supposed to go to the Institute,” said Mary. “I was meant to come here.”
There was silence.
“I hope we don’t have to go back into that cave anytime soon,” said Julee. “I could never sleep in there, wondering what could be… hiding in that tunnel. I’m scared just thinking about it.”
“Yeah, me too,” added Elliot. “Let’s talk about something else.”
Mary yawned. “Let’s go to sleep,” she said and rolled onto her side and closed her eyes.
“Yeah,” said Julee.
As they lay in silence, Mary didn’t think about the island, or the house, or her mother, or her grandmother. All she could think about was how big everything was, and how she was small, but she was still a part of it, a part of everything—just like the sun, and the moon, and the rings of Saturn.
“Goodnight,” said Elliot.
“Goodnight,” said Julee.
“Goodnight,” said Mary Andromeda.
Chapter 11
Breakfast
Mary awoke to the sound of knocking. It was morning. Golden sunlight poured into the great room from the large east-facing windows.
“Hellooooo.” It was Ben’s voice coming from outside. Mary heard the back door open and then, “Hey, wake up! Come here, you have to see this!”
Mary reached for her glasses on the end table, put them on, and saw Elliot rubbing her eyes and Julee yawning and stretching her arms into the air.
“Come on sleepyheads!” Ben shouted from the kitchen.
“Hold on, Wild, we’re coming!” Julee shouted back.
Mary cast off her blanket and shook herself awake, and the three girls stumbled into the kitchen, meeting Ben at the back door. He was holding it open and pointing at a box on the ground just outside.
“Looks like we got a delivery last night,” he said. “Here, hold the door open, would ya?”
Mary held the door while Ben lifted the box and carried it into the kitchen, setting it down on the counter next to the large cutting board.
“What is that?” asked Julee.
“It was just sitting there, outside the door. It has food in it. Enough for days.” Ben started pulling things out of the open box. “Crackers, and cookies, and chips.” They all watched, stunned, as he piled the food on the counter.
“Where did it come from? How did it get here?” asked Elliot. She picked up a jar of peanut butter and began reading the label.
“Is there a note?” asked Mary.
“Not that I can see,” said Ben. “Ooh, powdered donuts, I love those!” He swung his backpack off and set it on the floor.
“Did someone just drop that off in the middle of the night,” said Julee, “while we were sleeping?”
“I guess so,” Ben said, trying to open the bag of donuts. “Maybe it was drone-delivered. That, or there’s someone else here, on the island.”
“It must have been my grandma,” exclaimed Mary. “She’s helping us!”
Ben chuckled. “She’d have to be a pretty strong grandma to carry this all the way up from the dock.”
“And if it was your grandma,” added Elliot, “why wouldn’t she come in and see us?�
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Mary hopped-up on the counter and took a donut from Ben. “I don’t know, but I know it’s from her.”
“Yeah,” said Julee, “this is totally grandma food. When we go to my foster grandma’s house on Sunday mornings, we always have donuts, and when we leave, my foster mom always complains that it was unhealthy.” She grabbed a donut and popped it into her mouth, whole.
“I got some apples on the way, in case you’d rather have those,” said Ben through a mouthful of white powdered sugar.
Julee grabbed another donut and stuffed it into her mouth and smiled.
“Hey,” said Ben. He chewed awkwardly for a moment and then swallowed. “So the coolest thing happened last night. I found this big switch in the cave, it was like the size of my arm, and when I flipped it, there were all these sparks—kaboom!—and then this loud banging—bam! bam! bam!—and then this motor sound, like I turned something on, something big.” His eyes grew wide with excitement and he tried to imitate the sound, making a sort of grinding, rumbling, squealing noise.