Still, the guilt over my earlier adventure feels like lead in my limbs. I want to apologize to Pi for something he doesn’t even know I’ve done. He’s the only family I have left and I didn’t spare him much thought when I packed up to leave, either.
The ice covering my heart feels as if it has cracked open, saltwater burning its way down my throat. I’m sobbing over my half-eaten tuna, mutely aware of the pathetic, damp specimen I’ve become over the last several hours.
I set the tuna aside and step out onto the porch. The strains of hymns from services are drifting through on the breeze. And I have an idea.
First, it’s upstairs for a cold shower. Afterwards, I go through my mother’s old clothes again. I stop when I happen upon a red gingham party dress, midcalf with attached crinoline. I pull it over my head and tie a belt around to take up the excess waist. I slip my cowboy boots back on.
Glancing down I realize this is a costume, and I am ridiculous. Even so, I’m as comfortable as I’ve ever felt in New Charity. Confident in this small, but mighty plan. Before I leave with a bag of party supplies, I trot downstairs to the basement, where my dad’s old fiddle sits in a corner.
“Hello, New Charity,” I say, letting the screen door slam behind me, just to see how it feels. “My name is Syd Turner. Let’s try this again.”
Walking to town is unusually pleasant for a change. The myriad stars are a comfort after so many days washed out. And yet, it’s those same stars I’ll banish when I light up the City. It’s okay, though, I tell myself. The stars will be there no matter what. And we’ll have a mandatory day of darkness every month, just so we never forget. I’ll teach Mina all of Danny’s stupid made-up constellations: the Garbage Picker and the Spaghetti O. On the nights he taught them to me, he swore that someday things would make sense again. I hope he was right.
Maybe Cas is right. Maybe if I’m just a little bit less me, I can make things easier for myself, and better for everyone else.
The music for services is still playing, and I begin to jog, the bag of supplies hitting my leg as I go. I find the door to the social hall open and step inside. Flashlight beams shine from inside a doorway I’ll wager is the kitchen. I can hear the scrape of metal on metal and smell chili or the like.
“Hello,” I call, letting my eyes adjust. The flashlight beams converge and I feel a little like an interrogation subject from old TV shows. “Mind if I do some decorating out here?”
“Be our guest,” says one of the voices.
“Don’t see what good it’s gonna do,” says another, more dubious. “Doubt anyone will be by tonight anyway. And all this chili will go to waste . . .” There is a chorus of tsks. I don’t wait around for the rest of her predictions. I have work to do.
I skirt the room, setting and lighting the candles Doc packed, and I judiciously hauled. At their core, they’re just candles, but some onetime artists working at the candle factory had started to make decorative covers for them, so that the candle’s flicker is transformed into dancing patterns. I place small mirrors I found in the linen closet in the windowsills to catch the dancing lights. With a few volunteers, tables and chairs are rearranged in the front of the room to clear a half circle around the wooden parquet, restoring it to its rightful purpose as a dance floor.
Someone opens the door to the hall to peer inside. I can’t hear what is said, but the door opens wider and a trickle of people turns into a steadier stream. Cas pushes through them, Len right behind her, in voluminous white robes.
“Syd?” she asks, as if she can’t quite understand what she’s seeing. “What are you doing? It’s supposed to be coffee and chili in here, not candles and . . . whatever this is.”
“I know how to live in the dark, see. I can show everyone what it’s like to have fun again.”
“Did you make all this?”
“These are lights from the City. Aren’t they beautiful?”
“Yes, but I don’t think . . .”
I tamp down the embers of my temper. “You are the one who told me to try harder. Besides, this is all really for you. So you can see the City’s full of people just like you. People finding the happiness in small things.”
“But the sober-in-countenance rule.”
“Brilliant idea!” I pump Cas’s hands. “Say, Len, is drinking expressly forbidden after services?”
“Nope,” he says, grinning wide. “I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
Cas reaches for him. “Len, we’ll get in trouble!”
He starts a slow jog. “We only go through life’s beautiful field of meadow muffins once, Cas. Let’s make the most of it.”
“Great,” she says, pulling the robes over her head. Underneath she’s wearing the same clothes from this morning. I hand her the second-to-last bag from my arsenal. “What’s this?”
“I brought you a party dress.”
“Hasn’t this day been long enough for you, Syd?”
“Put it on. I guarantee you’ll feel better.”
“It’s not going to fit anyway.”
“Trust me.”
Cas snatches the bag from the table and disappears to the ladies’ room. I stop her and give her a candle so she can see herself in the mirror.
When I turn back around to see how attendance is faring, I find Pi standing there with a tense smile on his face. “Evening, Cressyda. What’s all this for?”
“Pi, I made a big mistake today.”
I feel even worse as his features curl into concern, leaning toward me in his discreet way. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. But. I’ve been thinking how there’s so much I don’t know about New Charity. And so much you all don’t know about the City. Will you help?”
“Me?” He lifts his hands in protest. “What do I know?”
“Remember the barn dances when I was young?”
The tension on his face breaks. “Your grandpapa knew how to throw a shindig. The music we could call up. Me and old Tess, we both had worked our air gifts into instruments. We were something.”
“In the City, we make do with a guitar. I know you know how to play, and I brought my dad’s fiddle.”
He frowns and drops his voice low. “I’m not sure that’s wise at such an hour, Syd.”
“Pi, look at them.” I gesture to the people around the room. They’re wide-eyed and lost without the light, quietly arm in arm and staring at Pi and me as if we’re a sideshow. “You always wanted to use your music to bring joy to people. Tonight will be special. We’re not doing anything wrong.”
Len announces his arrival by throwing the door open with the nose of his wheelbarrow. “Spirit spirits, everyone!” A keg gleams in the low light.
The crowd titters nervously, and a few of the men move to find glasses and a tap. Len dusts his hands off. “What’s next, party planner?”
I turn to Pi. “Look, I’ll take all the blame.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Pi says with a sigh.
“Please?”
Pi closes his eyes and reaches toward the fiddle, unable to stop himself from touching the strings. “Oh, Syd.” He takes the instrument from its case and begins to tune. The room falls silent.
I grab Len’s hand and pull him to the center of the parquet floor. “Just follow my lead.”
And we are dancing. Reels and do-si-dos. Waltz steps and grapevines. Everyone has something to add. Makeshift glasses are found, flower vases and jars, everyone clinking happily. Bill from the mercantile joins Pi on the spoons and someone joins in with a horn. Windows are opened, it’s so warm from the candles and the body heat.
Cas emerges from the bathroom like she’s stepped into a dream. She’s completely forgotten herself, and she’s as beautiful as I’ve ever seen her. My mother’s old purple party dress swirls around her calves and she’s let her long blonde hair hang loose around her shoulders. She’s smiling at the hem in the candlelight, spinning in small circles and laughing at nothing, everything.
A half hour later and three quarter
s of the town—maybe two hundred people—fill the hall. Among them, I’m surprised to see Becky Purcell. Even more surprised when she sidles up to me. “You did all this with nothing?”
I’m still seething about the backpack, but this is my party for peace, so I smile as best I can. “We’ve got a lot of nothing back in the City. Nothing’s my specialty.”
“Mine too,” she says. She doesn’t apologize for taking my pack, or even compliment me. But she gives a short nod of approval and then disappears into the long line for beer.
Cas catches my eye and smiles. I give her a wink.
It’s a near-perfect moment. At least I can give her this one. Because as quickly as we realize its existence, we watch it whirl into chaos.
I’m so busy observing the contagion of happiness around the room that I don’t even realize Troy is standing beside me. “You’re beautiful tonight,” he says. “Can I kiss your hand?”
I put my palm in his. “Having a good time?”
He nods. “You know, I think it’s one of those things where you don’t know how much you need something until you stumble onto it.”
“I hope everyone else feels that way,” I say.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen everyone this happy. The Spirit is here, Syd, don’t you worry.” He uses the hand he has taken to twirl me in a circle. “Fancy a dance?”
I fan my face with my hand. I’m sure I’ve long since sweated through my dress. “If you want to dance with all this, it’s your funeral.”
Our voices are drowned out by applause. Pi’s got three lines of Virginia reel going, the hall shaking with the stomping and sashaying. Troy and I link elbows and spin our way down the line.
The dance finally ends and we clap and holler with everyone else. I think Troy is pulling me in for a hug and so I return the gesture. My face is in his hands and he is kissing me and at that moment, I want to be kissed. I want to be loved and be important and be making a difference, and I’ve done all these things tonight, after making such a mess of the day, and so I kiss him back. The room spins around me, Len’s sour whiskey, hot air, beer, the scent of hay in the sun.
“Can I get you a drink?” he asks, pulling back. I nod, though I don’t really need one. I feel like I could fly. So much so that I climb a chair onto a table next to the kitchen wall.
Pi borrows a spoon to chime against his jar of beer. Soon everyone follows, and all eyes are on me.
I clear my throat. Though small, here is my spotlight. As good as it’s going to get. “Good evening, New Charitans. I just want to thank you all for your hospitality over these last few days. I know you were good to my dad, and I thank you for that. I also know that not having power is, well, inconvenient. So I wanted to share how we celebrate when the City has occasion to do so. Raise your glasses with me: inside the gates or out, here’s to joy.”
Mugs rise along with a cheer from the crowd. There’s clapping and stomping and Pi launches the little band into a syncopated number. “Ladies and gents, ‘The New Charity Blues,’” he yells. The crowd keeps time. Women have let their hair down and pinned it back up again. Loose ties and jackets lay discarded on tables and chairs.
There is a sound like thunder and the fiddle screeches, spoons stutter, and everyone turns. In the big double doorway, the Bishop stands next to Governor Willis, who holds a smoking, sawed-off shotgun.
“Those were just blanks to get everyone’s attention,” Troy whispers, as he helps me down from the table. “He wouldn’t hurt anyone.” But I’m not sure if he’s trying to convince me or himself. His eyes are on his father, and his hand around mine is shaking, afraid.
I am anything but. I’m ready to defend my actions, detangling my fingers from Troy’s, when Perry squeezes through the doorway. When he turns to stand shoulder to shoulder with the Governor, he reveals a woman on his arm. Nelle Harris Mangold.
“Everybody listen up,” says the Governor. “Quiet down now.”
The Bishop clears his throat. “While I’m delighted to see how invigorating tonight’s services were, this sort of revelry verges upon that which is displeasing to the Spirit, and certainly does not align with our striving toward a sober countenance.”
Feet shuffle on the floor. Whispers here and there. My eyes are on Nelle. She’s tapping her throat, asking Perry to get her some water. He looks to the Governor and the Governor nods. Perry steers Nelle through the edge of the crowd and into the kitchen. Nelle’s skin gleams, and while she’s not in a party dress, she’s clean and unbound and dressed in a bright teal pantsuit that has Beah Willis written all over it.
“I thought she was locked . . .” I don’t finish my thought. I try to move to keep her in sight, but Troy is holding on to my arm. I don’t think he means to hold me back; he’s merely enrapt at the tableau unfolding at the other end of the hall.
“My friends, there was a small incident with the sprinklers down at the power station today.” The Governor’s eyes skim the crowd, though he stops at Cas and gives her a hard stare. “We are most fortunate that my son Perry has invited an old friend to spend some time here in New Charity. She happens to be a very talented electrical engineer, and was kind enough to offer to fix our power for us, even increase our capacity a bit. We’ll have you back up and running just as soon as we can.”
A smatter of clapping passes through the crowd, but everyone looks confused. Everyone is confused. I certainly am.
“Now I know you’re probably all a bit disappointed that we’ve ended your unauthorized fun here. But before we head off to the power station to get a look at what’s wrong, I’d like to introduce you to our visitor. Now where did those two get off to?” The Governor beams, but his hands are clenched into fists.
Perry and Nelle reappear in the doorway to the kitchen. “Did we miss the dancing?” Perry jokes.
Nervous titters ripple through the crowd. The Governor gives the rifle to one of his men and straightens his jacket. “Ladies and gentlemen, meet my son’s newly betrothed, Miss Nelle Harris.”
I choke on a sip of beer. No one hears because the whole room starts talking again, moving toward the doorway to congratulate Perry. Nelle smiles and points toward the bathroom, then propels herself through the crowd. On her way past, she jerks her chin for me to follow.
I count to ten, then excuse myself. Troy tries to stop me, but a surge of people carries him closer to his brother, still beaming and shaking hands in the entryway of the kitchen.
I lock the bathroom door behind me.
“What are you doing here?” I ask her. “I thought you were a prisoner or something?”
“It’s nice to see you, too,” she says, amused. “I said I’d fix the power if they let me out of that goddamned room. I didn’t think they meant right this minute, but hey, why look a gift horse in the mouth. We were on our way to the power station when we heard the music. That Bishop turned seven shades of red. So we took a detour.”
“But Troy said they were going to keep you as a negotiator or a diplomat or some such nonsense. You’re married, but now you’re engaged to Perry?” I know my nose is wrinkling, but I can’t do anything to stop it.
She shrugs, smirking. “Things are never going to get that far. Perry and I have history, and I know exactly how to handle him. I agreed to the engagement so as to garner a bit of trust. To have an alibi when things like random power outages occur.”
I squirm, but I don’t owe any confessions to Nelle.
“What are you trying to prove here, anyway?” She picks up a candle and waves it in my face.
“This clean-living nonsense the Bishop insists on,” I say. “I just wanted to show them how we do things when we have to make do. How we live in the dark every day.”
I’ve said too much. Her eyebrows rise in realization. “Oh no. You didn’t. Please tell me you’re not responsible for this.”
I let out a breath. “It was an accident.”
“What kind of accident?”
“I sort of set the servers on fi
re in the control room.”
“You accidentally set the servers on fire?”
I didn’t know it was possible to fit so much disgust into a single question. “I set them on fire on purpose, it’s just that the sprinklers were an accident.”
In the low light her gaze is chilling. “So now I have to rebuild the computers in order to bring the power back online? Thanks a lot. At least I’ll be right next to the reservoir.”
“Nelle, you can’t open the floodgate without blowing us all to smithereens. There’s this Ward and it’s—”
“So I’ve heard.” She looks down at her hands. “But my team is safe outside.”
I lose the words in my mouth. I want to call her a suicidal maniac, but considering my foibles this afternoon, it’s almost hypocrisy. “There has to be another way.”
“Look, we had a plan, Syd. The camp finally had the manpower, the weapons, and the horses to fight our way inside and open the reservoir. We’d planned to make it our final mission. So when you came riding past with the Willis twins, I took my opportunity to contact Perry and convince him to bring me inside. I minimize the damage to the people I care about this way. Either way, New Charity was in the crosshairs.”
“So you engineered your own kidnapping to save your team?”
“Perry and I were in love once. I’ll do my best to get him out, too, as long as I don’t risk tipping off Governor Gutshot and his pal Sorcerer Solomon.”
“Let me help you, Nelle. Maybe if we work together we can—”
“Do you know what needs to be done here?” Nelle asks. “Do you know how to turn the power back on?”
I shift my gaze to the mirror and shake my head.
1503951200 Page 12