Warped

by Maurissa Guibord

  “It’s not about money or drugs or anything like that,” she said at last. “Gray Li—I mean, Ms. Gerome. She was after the tapestry. I had to pretend it was stolen.”

  “And lie to me?” Her father raised his voice, yelling now. Something he never did. “Why couldn’t you just come to me, Tessa? Talk to me?”

  Tessa searched for an answer. She straightened the pile of complimentary bookmarks on the counter with nervous fingers. “You wouldn’t have understood,” she said at last. “It’s complicated. And I thought you might get hurt.”

  “Hurt? Who’s going to hurt me?” Her father pulled at the collar of his shirt. His face was red, as if his outburst had embarrassed him.

  Gray Lily, Tessa thought. And in ways you can’t even imagine. But aloud she said, “Ms. Gerome.”

  Her father scrunched his hair with his fingers, looking puzzled. “You thought Ms. Gerome was going to hurt me,” he repeated.

  “Yes. I mean, no. I mean, Lila Gerome is not”—Tessa hesitated—“who she pretends to be.”

  “I didn’t know you’d even met the woman before.”

  “I hadn’t,” Tessa admitted. “But Will told me about her. She’s evil. She’d do anything to get the tapestry back.”

  “She paid us ten thousand dollars, Tessa. I don’t think she’s been exactly underhanded about things. Or evil.”

  Tessa shook her head. “It’s not about the money, Dad. Now that she has the tapestry, Will’s life is … in danger.”

  “C’mon, that’s a bit dramatic, isn’t it?” Her father’s anger seemed to have deflated now. He walked over and gave her a gentle rub on the shoulder. “It can’t be that bad. Tell me about it. Maybe I can help.”

  Tessa loved her father so much. She could see how badly he wanted to figure this out. To solve the problem for her, as if she were a little girl again. But this was her problem. She had gotten herself into this mess somehow. She would be the one to fix it.

  “I’m not being dramatic, Dad.” Tessa tried to keep her voice low and steady, but she couldn’t help it. The fear crept in.

  Her father just nodded. He suddenly seemed very tired, and years older. “Tessa,” he began slowly, “I can understand that you might have a hard time with me having, you know, a relationship. But doing reckless things, getting yourself in with the wrong kind of people—that’s not the way to get my attention.”

  As his words sank in, Tessa gaped at her father, open-mouthed. “You think I did this to get your attention?” she demanded.

  Jackson Brody nodded. “Yeah. And I understand. It’s my fault—”

  Tessa let out an angry cry. “Dad! This has nothing to do with you and Alicia. This is about me and Will.”

  “You don’t need someone like that in your life, Tessa. Whatever kind of trouble he’s in, I don’t want him dragging you into it.”

  “You don’t know anything about him!”

  Her father rubbed his eyes. “Look. Tessa. I know I’ve been pretty liberal and maybe not the best parent around. Things haven’t been easy since your mother …” He shook his head. “But there’s got to be a limit. I don’t want this guy coming around here.” Jackson Brody’s face was suddenly uncompromising. All the softness was gone.

  Tessa stared at the floor, choking back tears. Her father’s words shot down the last of her composure. Coming around here? He hardly needed to worry about that. Will de Chaucy was gone.

  “You’re wrong, Dad,” Tessa whispered. “You’ve been great. Until now.”

  Chapter 33

  That night the weather changed. An icy blanket of cold air drifted over the coast of Maine. It chilled the moisture on the pavement to a glistening coat of frost and wilted the early April flowers, making crocuses shrivel back to the soil. Even more unusual, the radio announcer talked about snow squalls that had whited out the region as far north as Bangor.

  But when Tessa got up, she paid no attention to the weird weather. She was too busy trying to act normal herself. Or at least going through the motions.

  She slipped an oversized wool sweater over her leggings and tugged her hair into a high ponytail. Down in the store she brewed coffee and put on her father’s favorite playlist of jazz. The familiar routine did nothing to raise her spirits. It was as if she were performing steps to a dance she used to know, but there was no music. Every so often, Tessa would imagine that she wasn’t even there anymore. That it wasn’t Will who had disappeared, but her.

  She was even glad to hear the bell jangle as Alicia Highsmith walked into the store.

  “Good Lord,” Alicia announced. Her sharp eyes swept over the store, as if she was mentally calculating a balance sheet. “Your father told me it was a little accident. It looks like a bulldozer came through this place.”

  Tessa didn’t know how to answer, so she just turned away and went back to work. A short time later she could hear Alicia and her father talking in low voices. Probably trying to figure out how to cope with his crazy daughter, who was “acting out.” She wasn’t his sweet, dependable Tessa anymore. Maybe she had never been that girl, Tessa thought. Maybe, deep down, she had always been wild and irresponsible.

  Tessa would have loved to escape. She tried calling Opal, but strangely, there was no answer. And there was no call from Opal, no text, nothing.

  Alicia stayed, working late into the day, calling a local contractor about repairs to the doors. She and Tessa kept their conversation to a few polite words when they had to speak. It was awkward and awful. But it was better to have Alicia there than to be alone with her father and his disappointment. Later in the day someone else stopped by the store to lend a hand. A fit-looking older man with short, stubbly gray hair arrived, wearing running shorts that showed one of his legs to be artificial. “This is my brother Ed,” Alicia told Tessa.

  “Big brother,” Ed corrected her as he tucked Alicia under one arm to hug her. Tessa found out that Alicia was inspired to go into prosthetics because of Ed, who had lost his leg in the Gulf War. So much for her image of Alicia as an over-achieving, money-hungry CEO.

  When everyone had gone and it was just Tessa and her father, they turned on the radio as they sat at the counter, eating from cartons of Chinese takeout. Tessa glanced at her father, who was poking a fork into his container of sesame chicken. He’d hardly eaten anything.

  Tessa looked more closely. He was pale, and purplish shadows tinged the skin beneath his eyes. When had he started looking so worn, so beaten-down? She must have been too busy, or just too self-absorbed to notice. She watched as he stood and walked over to settle himself heavily in the corner chair.

  “Dad?”

  “The rotating racks for the paperbacks,” he said. He took a deep breath. “We should put them in the back. For now.”

  He was breathing funny too, Tessa realized. As if he had just run up the stairs.

  “Dad, are you okay?” she asked, stepping over to put a hand to his shoulder.

  He shrugged. “I haven’t been feeling too well.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “Not sleeping these past few nights. Been having these weird dreams. Last night I woke up soaked with sweat. Even had to change my shirt. I think I’m coming down with a bug or something.”

  Tessa felt his forehead. “You feel kind of warm. Maybe you’d better call the doctor.”

  “Yeah. I will.” Her drew back from her touch and nodded. “Don’t worry about it, Tessa.”

  The next day was Friday. They opened the bookstore back up, and Tessa stayed busy. In the morning she ran the register and dealt with a small but steady stream of customers. In between she reorganized the business cards and messages on the corkboard next to the counter and updated the bestsellers display shelf at the front of the store. At lunchtime when Mrs. Petoskey came in for her shift, Tessa walked down the street to the Moonstone Café to get a sandwich. It was weird that she still hadn’t heard from Opal. She must have gone away with her folks for a few days during the school break. Still, it was odd that Opal hadn’t mentioned anything about
it.

  Or maybe she did and I was just too preoccupied to pay attention, thought Tessa. Her head and her heart had been so turned upside down by Will de Chaucy—who knew what had been happening around her? But she needed to talk to Opal so badly. She was supposed to bring the Texo Vita back to Gray Lily tonight, and the prospect scared her out of her mind. What was Gray Lily planning? Opal was the only person who knew what had happened. Maybe together they could come up with a plan and figure out some way to help Will.

  Tessa walked into the bustling, dimly lit coffeehouse. The Moonstone was a popular place to hang out, with free Internet access and good food, and many of the small tables were filled with people hunched over their laptops. Tessa surveyed the choices on the blackboard, trying to decide between a panini and one of the giant ragamuffins the café was famous for. She decided she didn’t want to eat after all and had just sat down at a table with only a cup of tea when she heard a familiar voice and looked up.

  “Hey, Opal!” Tessa called with a relieved smile.

  Opal stopped and turned with a quick, impatient glance. She was balancing a tray containing a leafy green salad and bottled water. “Yeah?”

  For a second Tessa thought she had been mistaken and called to the wrong person. “Opal?” she repeated, staring.

  This girl’s hair wasn’t in flyaway wisps. It had been expertly styled into a sleek, tapered fringe with ultrablond highlights that framed her features. She wasn’t dressed in a crazy, colorful mix of clothes but in a pair of skintight, low-slung jeans and a clingy Abercrombie & Fitch T-shirt. Opal was also wearing makeup. And a cold stare.

  “Wow,” said Tessa warmly. “You look amazing. New look, huh? I’ve been trying to call you.” She pointed to where her tray sat. “I just got this table. There’s plenty of room.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding,” said Opal. Her eyes, outlined in a smoky blue, slid up and down Tessa with doubtful appraisal. “Why would I sit with you?”

  Tessa’s smiled faltered. She heard Opal’s words, saw her icy expression, but just couldn’t connect them to the person in front of her. She glanced around, looking for the joke, and then looked back at Opal. “Um. Because we’re friends?”

  Opal gave a snort. “Since when?”

  A sick feeling lurched in Tessa’s stomach, but she tried to smile through it. “Ever since we met, dummy. First day of second grade,” she said lightly. “What’s up with you?”

  “First day of second grade?” repeated Opal. “You mean the day you wet your pants on the playground? Oh yeah, I remember, Brody. You had to sit on a newspaper in the front office till your mom came and picked you up.” She let out a peal of laughter that struck Tessa like shards of glass.

  “What?” Tessa gasped. “No. That’s not what happened.” Tessa’s face reddened as she glanced around the café.

  “Maybe you just blocked it out,” sneered the Opal-who-wasn’t-Opal. “Too traumatic.”

  Traumatic? Tessa remembered the day. She’d fallen off the jungle gym, and it had hurt so badly she … Yeah, she had peed her pants a little. But Opal had walked with her to the girls’ room, given her an extra set of clothes from her cubbyhole. And had never breathed a word to anybody. On a pinky swear. It wasn’t traumatic. It was one of her best days ever. Until now.

  “Hi, beautiful,” said a deep voice.

  Hunter Scoville walked up, holding a tray of food. He glanced at Tessa but then directed his gaze to Opal with a charming, slanted grin.

  “Where’re we sitting?”

  “Far, far away,” said Opal with a pointed look at Tessa. She spun on a flat-heeled shoe and sauntered toward a table in the corner, Hunter in tow. As Tessa watched, Opal put a hand on Hunter’s shoulder, leaned close to him and whispered something in his ear. They both laughed.

  Tessa swallowed and approached their table. “Opal, what’s wrong with you?” she said in a low voice. “Why are you acting like this?”

  Opal raised a perfectly manicured hand. “Brody, you’re the one acting freaky. Why don’t you just go over to your loser table and leave me alone?”

  Hunter leaned toward Opal. “I see what you mean,” he murmured, raising his eyebrows. “Attack of the Living Losers.”

  Tessa left and walked quickly to the bathroom. She splashed cool water on her face. What was going on? It seemed like some kind of a crazy joke. Opal could never be mean to anyone. It just wasn’t in her. Something was wrong.

  No, Tessa thought. Everything was wrong. All at once she remembered the glowing image of three shrouded figures. And their words came back to her, sending a shiver down her back.

  Your world will be torn apart.

  Tessa walked home as the air grew thick and damp and the sky welled up with dark thunderclouds. The cold air was gone; the wind that flapped at her sweater and skittered loose papers across Harbor Square was warm. It almost felt tropical.

  The store was closed up and there was no sign of her father, but the phone was ringing as she went through the door of the apartment upstairs.

  “Hello?” Tessa answered.

  “Hello? This is Dr. Robard from the medical center. Is this Tessa Brody?”

  The floor dropped away beneath her. Sometimes a voice doesn’t even need words to tell you something is wrong.

  “Yes?” Tessa whispered. She clutched the phone, feeling incredibly aware of it in her hand. The smooth, cool plastic seemed like a foreign object. The stranger’s voice came through, distant and detached:

  “Your dad is stable right now, but he’s very sick. He’s going to be admitted to the hospital this afternoon.”

  “What happened?” Tessa’s voice was faint. “Is he okay?”

  “I’d like you to come to the hospital. Right away, if you can, please. So we can talk.”

  Chapter 34

  The medical office building was attached to the hospital. Tessa parked the Subaru in Patients’ Lot A and entered the lobby with a feeling of weird detachment, as if she were watching things happen from a great distance, or maybe even to someone else. As she rose in the cool, softly lit elevator to the third floor, she looked at the sign mounted inside. 3RD FLOOR—DR. ROBARD—ONCOLOGY ASSOCIATES.

  Dr. Robard was younger than she’d expected. He wore glasses, and a striped blue and yellow polo shirt and chinos beneath his white lab coat. His voice was calm and pleasant. He had a picture on his desk in a clear acrylic frame of two small children sitting on the edge of a sandbox. Framed diplomas hung on the wall. An ivy plant in the corner needed water. It all seemed important for some reason. In her odd, disconnected state, Tessa felt she should try to pay attention to all these things. But first she had to listen to what the calm, pleasant voice was saying.

  Acute leukemia.

  “Leukemia,” she repeated. The feeling of calm, of distance, was suddenly gone. The words crashed in on her as if they would crush her. “You mean cancer? My father has cancer?”

  “Yes.” Dr. Robard nodded. “It’s a type of cancer of the white blood cells.”

  Tessa held herself tightly. If she stayed completely still, maybe everything would stop. And it wouldn’t be real. This can’t be real. But the doctor was looking at her as if he expected her to say something.

  “I don’t believe it. It’s wrong,” she said. Her voice sounded jerky. “It’s impossible. Things just don’t happen like this out of the blue. Cancer takes years to—” She stopped and clasped her cold hands together. She started to cry.

  Dr. Robard said gently, “Believe me, Tessa. We’ve double-checked everything.”

  Tears ran down Tessa’s face as she leaned forward suddenly. She blinked them back and shook her head. “No,” she said, wiping her eyes. “You show me.”

  “What?” Dr. Robard looked at her in surprise.

  “I said show me. The leukemia. The biopsy or the X-ray or whatever it is. Show it to me.”

  Dr. Robard sat back in his chair. He nodded at her with an expression of sympathy. “Yes. Of course.”

  Dr. Robard picked up
a glass slide. Tessa could see a faint pinkish smudge on it. The slide had a sticker on one end with a number and Brody, J. printed on it.

  The doctor put the slide into place under the microscope with a faint click. He directed Tessa to look through the eyepieces on her side of the microscope as he turned the focus.

  “You see these cells?” he asked. Tessa looked at a bright circle of light filled with small pink ring-shaped cells. “These are the healthy blood cells. Now look here.” The image blurred as he moved the slide and focused on another area. A small black pointer appeared. “These are the cancer cells.” The pointer, under the doctor’s manipulation, circled a large, irregular cell that had spattered blue blobs in it.

  “How could this happen so suddenly?” she whispered, still staring through the microscope.

  “Sometimes things are happening for a while before the symptoms finally become noticeable. Then things progress rapidly.” Dr. Robard lifted his head and leaned back. “Your dad is very anemic. That explains the shortness of breath and fatigue. I know it’s hard to take in right now. Give it some time. And meanwhile, please know that we’re going to do everything possible to treat the cancer.”

  Tessa was still looking through the microscope at the tiny cells when some filmy pink material in the background began to move. The wavy pink filaments seemed to swim into focus as if coming to the surface of a pool of water. They swirled together and linked to form a ropy trail.

  The pink material coiled into crude words:

  Give back the threads.

  “It’s them,” Tessa said faintly. She gripped the side of the microscope. She took a deep breath and felt a sick, hot rush of anger. “It’s them!” she whispered. “The Norn. They’re doing this!”

  Dr. Robard gave her a puzzled frown and said, “I understand, Tessa. It’s not easy to accept, but—”

  “No!” Tessa cried. “You don’t understand. Look!”