I said, “You know, Aunt Mary, she left a bunch of times before Dad died. Now, she calls after my accident just to make sure I’m not dead.”
“Oh, Wendy, she’s had a lot to handle, just like you. I wish I could make things better. I know how you miss them both, and she misses you.”
I kind of laughed and remembered how I cried the very first time she took off. I didn’t feel like crying anymore. I remembered one of Ben’s ridiculous sayings and said, “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. That’s what they say, right?”
“It shouldn’t be that way. Not for you.”
I thought she expected me to cry, but I was running on empty. Maybe there was a Ben gene somewhere in me, because I felt nothing. I tried to think what would happen next. I tried to be practical.
“What happens to me?” I asked.
“Don’t worry. You’ll be taken care of.”
I was not sure what that meant. Some details would have been nice, but I didn’t want to push. Aunt Mary and Uncle Craig had been great, considering I’d been nothing but trouble. If I looked at it from their point of view, this whole summer had been a disaster. I wouldn’t be surprised at all if they sent me away. They had put up with a lot. Besides, I knew from the start this was temporary, at least until Mom either came back or decided not to. I would survive.
Aunt Mary shifted the subject. “You and Ben haven’t talked much or done things together since the accident.”
Ben and I hadn’t been friendly since the accident, another mark against me. “Werling was Ben’s best friend,” I said. “Werling died saving me. I figure I’m not the flavor of the month with him.” This was not entirely true. He’d never said a word blaming me. I was the one who shut down any attempts he made to talk.
“He’s so quiet,” she said with concern. “You two need to talk.”
I took a long breath and let it out slowly. I was not up to talking and didn’t know what I would say.
“It wasn’t your fault. Werling pushed you clear and . . . Ben doesn’t blame you, Wendy. You know that?”
“I know.” And I guessed I did know it. I was the one who was angry. I was angry with Ben and it was insane. I didn’t know what to do. It was impossible to explain. “I know Ben doesn’t blame me, Aunt Mary.”
“Well, a lot has happened,” she said. “I’m sure the accident is hard to deal with, but when you’re up to it, please try to talk to Ben, please—as a favor to me. He has a hard time handling feelings. I want you two to get along.”
* * *
Weeks went by and the state fair came. After that there would be school and all the new classes. I invited Jan over. She was a lot friendlier and smarter than I first thought. Ben found an excuse to be gone, the idiot. Jan and I spent a day at the fair and she turned out to be pretty cool. I discovered we would be in a class together. She didn’t ask one question about Ben, and by the end of the day, I thought she really wanted to get to know me.
Still, Ben and I hardly talked. “Pass the salt” was about it.
Nineteen
Back to the Falls
It was early morning the day after my cast came off. I was reading on my bed when Ben knocked on my door.
“Wendy, will you join me for a walk?” he asked through the door.
He said this more for himself than me.
“Go away,” I told him. Getting rid of the cast should have made me happy, but it didn’t. It had covered more than my arm, if you get my meaning.
My door opened and Ben came up to my bed. He was dressed for a walk. “Get your shoes on. It’s time we went for a stroll.”
His determined voice tempted me to refuse completely. Ben read my mind and said, “We have to get over this. My mom ordered me.”
The falls roared. I hadn’t been to the creek since we looked for clams. Sorry, that’s mussels. The cool spray was welcome. The morning sun made a rainbow in the mist. I cupped the pearls in my pocket. Each had a tiny cotton bag to protect it. Mary had helped me sew them. Well, she did the sewing and I supervised. My arm and hand had healed fast, with no scar tissue. I had kept the pearls in my hand or next to my bed the whole time I had the cast on. The doctor was amazed. He thought the healing was incredibly fast, and amazing by the lack of scars.
The grass and stone of the park path under my feet felt wonderful. I remembered the first time I followed Ben down the winding steps and saw the falls. The light today was the same but different—different because I now knew what was down the path and around the trees.
He strode along over the first bridge below the falls, almost at a trot. Being out of the house and by the creek was a powerful medicine, but my legs were still out of shape and I told him to slow down.
So much hung in the fragrant air. The trees and the burbling creek were magic. Memories of Werling were thick. I half expected him to jump out in his bush suit.
“Wendy,” Ben said without looking at me. “The fight at the jewelry store was bad.”
I said nothing. I’d had months to think of what happened. It hurt to remember. Maybe it was the same for him. I hadn’t thought of that.
“I’ve researched your pearls,” he said flatly. “And talked to Eddy.”
“Researched my pearls!” Of course he had. My whole emotional mess with Werling didn’t touch him. “Research is what you do, Ben.”
He ignored my sarcasm. “Please listen. There’s a very old story about Iblis being cast out of heaven. My dad helped me connect with a professor of Middle Eastern literature. According to legend, jinn have the freedom to choose between good or evil.”
“Really?” I snapped. He was trying to explain something important, something Eddy had said during the fight. But my anger boiled inside me. There was something I had to say to him. I knew it wasn’t fair, but I would say it if he kept pushing.
“I couldn’t hear everything you said to the genie during the fight,” he went on.
“Kalil! His name was Kalil! Look, Ben, I don’t want to talk about it. I really don’t.”
“Fine, but just answer one question for me. Why didn’t he destroy the pearls?”
“I don’t know. The pearls showed us things. He saw something.”
“What?”
“I don’t know! I saw people I . . . people important to me.” I thought of Werling and bit back telling him that. “I saw my dad. I don’t know what Kalil saw, maybe his family, maybe his dad. I don’t know!”
“Tell me. It’s important.”
“Of course they’re important, you idiot!”
Ben stopped and looked surprised. He finally realized I was mad.
“Wendy, you’re upset.”
“You promised!” I blurted out. It just popped out, and suddenly I was so angry I could hit him. I clenched my fists. Tears flowed and I wiped them away with my knuckles, digging at my eyes until it hurt. “You promised!”
He took a long, long breath and waited. He suddenly looked unbelievably sad. “Okay, I know. Go ahead and say it.”
“You promised to watch Werling, to keep him safe. You promised!” A part of me knew I was totally out of line. Stupid. But I couldn’t help it. It was so unfair. My dad promised to come back. People got killed and there was nothing I could do! It was not fair! “You promised!”
“I’m sorry. He was too badly hurt, Wendy. The doctors . . . I’m sorry.”
I ran my sleeve over my eyes. I hated crying in front of him. I wanted to break something. “Why did he do that, push me? He was so stupid,” I said.
Ben looked miserable, but said, “He had his faults, but he wasn’t stupid.”
“I know. I know. I’m the stupid one. There wasn’t anything you could do. I know. He was such a nerd.”
“So am I.” Ben smiled a little. “I don’t know anything about love, but he thought he loved you.”
“He was an idiot. Nobody can love me.”
He screwed his mouth up to one side like he didn’t understand. But, instead of saying anything, he fished in his pocket and
pulled out a folded page of lined tablet paper. He handed it to me.
“What’s this?”
“I don’t know if this matters. He was working on it. It’s a poem.” He handed it to me and said, “You remember, Yukon . . . the poem about the Yukon? I made that up. It was a poem to you. He didn’t think it was good enough and didn’t want to give it to you, but . . .” He held it out to me. “Don’t read it right now, please.”
I took it. For a moment Ben seemed to hang onto it, like he was afraid to let it go.
“His poetry isn’t very good,” Ben said. “But he meant every word.”
“You read it? You read my poem?”
“He asked me to help. I don’t know why. I don’t know anything about romantic poetry. I’m terrible at that sort of thing.”
My anger emptied from me. The picture of Ben reluctantly helping Werling, their nerdy heads bent together, just wiped out everything. “Oh, Ben, you moron. He was your best friend.” I reached out and hugged him hard.
“Agreed. Yes, he was.” He awkwardly hugged me back. “I’m sorry, Wendy. I’m not good with this stuff. I’m so sorry. I’m so very sorry.” His voice broke and he tried to let go, but I held on. He gave up trying to get away and I squeezed him. He sniffed, coughed and gulped hard, and patted me lightly on the back. He was not used to letting himself be hugged.
“I miss him,” I said. “He was a pain, but I miss him.” I did miss him so. I released Ben and he stepped back quickly and wiped his eyes.
“I arranged to meet with Cathal,” he said after a moment, changing the subject, his voice in control again. “We must go.” He spun on his heel and took off down the trail.
I watched him march away, steady as ever. How a brain like Ben could be so inept at being a person beat me, but maybe that was how things work. You were totally and extremely good at some things because you didn’t work at others. It kind of made sense. I pocketed the poem next to my pearls and followed him.
We walked down the path to the site of the mussel kill, where the shells had been piled. The creek gurgled and grasshoppers rocketed away from us. The odor of spoiled clams was gone and the grass was back up. The hot sun baked the earth, and the smell of the creek filled my lungs. You’d never know what had happened at the spot. Crows in the sunny treetops raised a fuss at our approach.
Ben checked his wristwatch and led me to the edge of the creek. The water flowed in a broken harmony. Cathal stood there in human form. His wounds had healed. He was more handsome than the day I first met him, but his smile didn’t melt me now. It was just a smile.
“Good day, Mistress Wendy Adair. Hello, Master Benjamin.”
Ben greeted him and went straight to business. “You should know there was more to the Yetima story than we first thought,” Ben said. “Maybe more than even you or Eddy knew.”
This was what he’d tried to tell me earlier.
“I talked with an Islamic scholar at the university,” Ben said. “According to legend, when Iblis was cast down, the good in him was blasted to bits. This was long before the story of the pearl fisherman and the Yetima legend. The tiny pieces fell into the sea.”
“There was good in Iblis?” Cathal asked with doubt.
“Once,” Ben said. “At least, that’s what an obscure text claimed. The bits went down into the sea.”
My pearls trembled in my pocket, and I could picture the story. Tiny grains, not many, sank into the sea. Down they went, bubbling as they cooled, down to the seabed.
Cathal snorted, “And his pershing good side disappeared forever, may his name be cursed.”
“Disappeared? No,” I said, “I don’t think so.” I can put two and two together. I suddenly realized the legend was not over.
Ben nodded at my insight and continued. “Actually, they fell amongst oysters, or so an obscure text said. That’s the part of the Yetima story that’s been lost, probably because it happened before—perhaps Iblis had a hand in hiding it. The bits were planted in the oysters to preserve them. Pearls formed around some of the tiny fragments. Those parts became Wendy’s pearls.”
“By lake and stream!” Cathal exclaimed. He ran both hands up through his hair and ended by rubbing his neck. “Considering Iblis’s power to do harm, even a tiny bit of the power he had to do good must be something to wonder at.”
“If you piece together the Yetima story and the tale I just discovered, and the evidence of the pearls’ power, I feel we have nearly the whole story,” Ben said.
“The good that was in Iblis is in the pearls?” Cathal mused. “No wonder he wants them destroyed. That would make the lassie’s pearls wondrously powerful.”
The warmth of the pearls in my pocket suddenly made them feel alive. “Will he keep looking?” I asked.
Ben thought about that a second. “Who can tell? They apparently turned Kalil around. Would Iblis dare lose more of his followers? I don’t know. They seem to amplify the good in people . . . in everything.”
“You’re a wealthy woman, lass.” Cathal said, amazed. “Those pearls are beyond price.”
“I don’t feel wealthy,” I said. “I don’t feel wealthy at all. I didn’t want any of this. What should I do? This makes them way too important for me to keep.”
“You’ve done all right so far, lass.”
“What should I do?” I asked them both.
Ben’s mouth twisted around. He was thinking. Even Cathal seemed to be tongue-tied.
Downstream, the bushes rustled and there were heavy splashes. If Ben or Cathal noticed, they didn’t turn. Through the low branches I caught sight of a glistening, perfect bay horse. Stunning was not a word I used much, but the horse was stunning. It crossed the creek and galloped up the opposite bank. For a moment it turned and looked directly at me, then shook its wet mane and disappeared into woods. Gone.
“Did you see that?” I asked.
Ben hadn’t and Cathal said nothing. A couple of months ago a horse running around in the park would have freaked me out. But now, its image filled me with a sense of peace and love for the creek.
“About the pearls . . . ” Ben said, “We should ask Her Ladyship.”
I hardly heard him. I touched the pearls and took them from my pocket, removing them from their bags. The creek burbled and glistened in the clear sunshine. Once again I thought of Werling in his bush outfit and half expected to see him magically appear and wave. I hefted the pearls. Cathal peered down at them in wonder.
“By the saints. They are wondrous.”
“Cathal,” I said. “The creek was hurt in the name of Iblis.”
“Aye, lass.”
With a quick toss I let the pearls fly into the swirling water. “Let his goodness fix the creek.”
Cathal and Ben froze.
“Wendy!” Ben shouted.
“Lassie!” Cathal cried.
The pearls plunked into the water, leaving tiny sparkling twin rings that were quickly swept downstream.
Ben turned to me in astonishment, then started to laugh. “Wendy. You are amazing.”
I frowned at him. “You think that was dumb?”
“No, not at all. Helping the remaining mussels repair their loss is a perfect use for them. In a million years Iblis would never have imagined they’d be used like that.”
“Aye.” Cathal heartily agreed, still amazed. “To use such an extraordinary treasure like this . . . Her Ladyship herself would never have guessed a human would do such a thing.”
“Seemed like the only thing to do,” I said.
A sudden wind shook the nearby oaks. A blurry mist rose off the spot the pearls went in and Eddy—excuse me, Her Ladyship—surfaced. No, it was more like she formed herself out of the water. Her normally fierce expression was maybe a bit less forbidding. She bowed to me and gazed at me with slightly narrowed eyes. Her snow-white eyebrows lowered, like she was not sure what she was seeing. It reminded me of the first time I saw her, kind of a judging look. Her gown shed water constantly, though her waist-length hair l
ooked totally dry. Ben, Cathal, and I returned her bow.
“Though Cathal has no right to speak for me,” she said with a sharp glance at Cathal, “I would agree that your actions are not common among your species. Your thoughtfulness will help the creek recover.” She raised and opened her hand to show the pearls. They glowed bluish white and seemed to float an inch off her palm.
I gulped and said. “Um, glad to help.”
“I no longer wonder that the pearls came to you,” she said. “All you have said and done speaks of a noble soul. You are a worthy bearer. We are in your debt.” Again she bowed, and this time I returned the bow right away.
To Ben she said, “Benjamin Preston, you will continue to guide your cousin and serve as her advisor and protector.”
“When I can get her to listen,” he said and quickly added, “Your Ladyship.”
She frowned at his jest but continued. “We will use the pearls and watch over them in your name, Wendy Adair, and should you need them you have but to ask.”
“Fair enough, Your Ladyship.”
Now she pierced me with a deadly serious look. “You have a link to faerie now that you cannot take lightly. We are in your service, but with our service comes responsibility. For now, continue to heal. Not all things end as we imagine and not all wounds can be seen. We will talk again.” She lifted the pearls up and slowly dissolved into the creek so that the pearls were the last things we saw. They winked out under the waves.
Cathal, Ben, and I stood watching the misty turbulence. I asked, “What did she mean, ‘Not all things end as we imagine’?”
Ben answered, “I think it was her way of saying thank you.”
“Aye,” Cathal laughed.
Twenty
Home
Ben and I walked back home in silence. The evening sun was warm on my shoulders. My arm throbbed without the pearls, but it was not that painful. There was little left to heal.
We passed yards full of flowers and a few red-capped plastic garden gnomes who stood guard over geraniums. A sprinkler made a chinka, chinka, chinka sound, then reset and started all over again. It made a rainbow.
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