by Laura Preble
I glance at Jana. Maybe the old lady is just nuts.
Mary looks up at me. “Our Church mated with the secular government when our country was founded, and the Church has never wanted anyone to know the truth. That when the Church was founded…when Anglicants crusaded, spreading the word…they were eradicating Perpendiculars. Forcing others to bend to their will. To control the population…for power. They wiped out so many Perpendiculars, and made it so only Parallels would be legally recognized in their Church, that only Parallels could marry and have families, that Perps became a minority. Arranged marriages were made to ensure no bad genes were passed on.” She motions toward the door. Just like that, she dismisses us. “Time for you to go now. Magnus will tell you everything you need to know.”
“But—”
She stops me with a raised hand. “No more questions right now. You gotta have some faith. Once you’re out of this mess, you can study Parallel/Perpendicular history till you know everything, if you want. Right now it’s the time for action.”
Outside, the dark seems thick and tangible. Mary stands at the door of the dirt fort and waves to us as if we’d just been in having cookies and milk. I have so many questions; but I don’t dare ask. I know Jana was right – we have to get back. And Magnus doesn’t look like he’d tolerate any hold ups from me.
Magnus walks beside me, calmly reciting the laundry list of things I need to do before Friday, including telling Carmen what to do, where to be and when. We’ll have one more contact, he says, before Friday. Jana will know what to do.
We’re back home an hour later, and my head is pounding. The thought of what I’m going to do—what I’m going to allow to happen—eats at me, but the thought of being with Carmen wrestles with my guilt, and leaves me feeling worked over, muscles sore, head sore, heart sore.
Before we get out of the car, Jana leans in close and kisses my cheek. “Things will get better.”
I don’t know how to answer. I’m not convinced, not really, that things will get better. But it’s too late now. “You’d really—do that?” I shouldn’t ask, but it’s been gnawing at me all the way home. “You’d kill him? For the cause?”
Jana is softer now, not the bitch-warrior princess from the forest. But her jaw is set firm, and she answers: “I don’t want to. But something has to be done. Waiting has never worked. Nobody is going to give us what we aren’t willing to take.”
I still don’t want to think she’d do it.
Warren and David are both home, unfortunately, so I know we’re going to get a grilling when we go in. Maybe they’ll be drinking and we’ll escape.
We go in as quietly as possible, holding the handle of the old back door so it doesn’t squeak, but he hears us anyway. “Kids?” he calls. Jana grimaces, holds two fingers to her head as if it’s a gun, and pretends to shoot.
“We’re home,” I yell cheerfully, trying to sound like someone who just went out for a ride and did not just commit a huge act of conspiracy against home and church.
“Come on in the parlor,” David says, too happy. We hang up our coats and trudge on into the arena. McFarland is sitting there on the piano bench, swirling a goblet of red wine. Christ, why can’t this man disappear, for everyone’s good? I can’t even look at him. How am I going to survive a two-hour car ride without spilling everything?
“Where were you two?” David asks, tossing in a little confused laugh that’s supposed to come off as concerned yet not really worried.
“Didn’t Warren tell you?” Jana asks, tossing the keys to him. “We went to buy some drugs.”
McFarland just happens to be sipping at that moment, and he chokes, spits merlot on the floor, and everybody freezes except for Jana, who is laughing hysterically at her own joke. I’d like to laugh too, but I’m too chicken.
David’s not laughing. His face is stone; Warren’s is pale as he thumps McFarland on the back to be sure we don’t end up with a dead dinner guest.
“Jana, a moment in your room please?” It’s not a request.
Jana chuckles, ambles out of the room, a defiant prisoner being walked to the gallows. David grabs her elbow to steer her upstairs.
“No harm done,” Warren chatters. “Chris, go get a rag to clean this up, will you?”
“Sure.” I am so happy to be out of that room. And I’m sure Jana is getting a chewing out of epic proportions upstairs. Maybe I should just bolt out the back door, start running, and never stop. Instead, I grab a clean dishrag and bring it to Warren, who immediately starts dabbing at McFarland and then at the Persian rug.
“I should get going,” McFarland murmurs, eyeing the red spatters on his khaki trousers. It’s not blood, I keep chanting in my head. It’s not blood. Just looks like blood.
“I could soak your pants,” Warren offers.
“No, no.” McFarland moves toward the kitchen and his coat. “I’ll just go back to the hotel and have them take care of it. Oh, but you could do one thing for me, Warren. Can you get that Quintana book on philosophy that David was talking about? He said it was in the library.”
Warren frowns as if trying to remember, but nods and heads for the library. As McFarland brushes past, he links arms with me and pulls me along into the kitchen, then backs me up against the counter. I’m too shocked to protest; my whole body freezes.
He pushes uncomfortably close to me. “Chris, your family is nuts,” he whispers in my ear, his hot breath tickling. “But I think we’ll become very good friends.”
I’m trapped. He’s too heavy for me to push away. Just as I start to panic, he leans in, grabs the back of my head, and pulls me to him, planting a wet, desperate kiss on my lips, and he won’t let go, and I don’t even think about it, but I bring my knee up quick, a real knee-jerk response, and next thing I know, he’s lying on the kitchen floor writhing in pain.
Warren calls from the parlor as he comes toward us, “I can’t find that book anywhere, Jim. Sorry. I—” He sees the man on the floor, sees me hovering over him, looking contrite. “Oh my God. What now? What did you do?” He swats at me with the dishrag and I quickstep it out of there and upstairs, running, hoping to get to my room before anyone stops me.
I just feel…dirty. Gross. My heart pounds an irregular beat as the image of McFarland’s leering face hovers at the edge of my consciousness.
David’s voice rises and falls angrily from Jana’s room, so I’m able to slip into my mine, lock the door, and run to the balcony, as far away from everybody else in the house as possible. God, I’ve totally screwed up. He’s not going to go to Indian Lake with some guy who kneed him for a fumbling kiss. What a screw up. Now what? Do I run away now? Do I wait and see what happens? Do I jump off the balcony and hope for a severe injury? Nothing sounds workable. And it’s freezing out here.
Voices from below. Pieces of dialogue drift up on the clear night air: “No problem. Just nerves,” and “Misunderstanding.” What if that groin shot costs me the whole trip on Friday? The Escalade revs up, spits gravel, pierces the dark with two shining fingers of light as it rolls down the drive.
Through a crack in the French door, I listen for a sign that David might be gunning for me next, having exhausted the amount of shit he could give Jana. All quiet at the moment. Wait till he hears that I nearly castrated his prime toadie. But no, I don’t hear anything. Maybe he killed her.
Cell phone. It’s on my desk, so I grab it, sprint back outside after grabbing a sweatshirt, call Andi. She answers, and amidst a backdrop of jazz music and noisy conversation I hear a scratchy “Hello?”
“Oh God. Oh, God. I am so dead.”
“What happened?” I hear her moving, rustling through a room full of people talking and laughing. “Hang on.” A door closes. Quiet. “All right. Now I can talk. What is it? Did you tell someone?”
“No, no.” I’m sweating in spite of the temperature. I wedge myself into the corner of the wooden fence closest to the door, pull my knees up to my chin. “Andi?”
“I’m here.”
Deep breath. “I’ve got to see Carmen. Can you set up a meeting? I can’t call her directly. But this is really, really important. Can you please do this for me?”
“Chris, you know I don’t want to be involved in this.” She covers the phone, says something muffled, then comes back. “Sorry. Okay, look. What do you want?”
“Where are you?”
Pause. “What? Just over with some friends. I’m in somebody’s bathroom, so I need to get out.”
“Andi. I need this. If we’ve ever been friends, do this for me.”
“That’s a hell of a demand.” Her voice is tight, edged with fear and anger. I know she doesn’t want to help me. But she’s the only person I can trust who knows Carmen and isn’t involved in all of this. It’s got to work.
“I need you to go to her tonight.”
“Tonight? Chris, some of us have lives, you know, things going on—” Noise spills in on her end, then subsides. “I don’t think I—”
“Andi. Go to Lainie’s. Give Carmen a message. Just tell her ‘midnight tree.’ She’ll understand. Can you just do that? Two words, Andi? Then I won’t ever ask you to do anything else. I promise.”
Breath. In, out, rhythmic breathing…so much in breath, it carries words, music, threats, promises, hope, hate. “Alright,” she says, her voice small. Then the line goes dead.
I kiss the phone, fold it, put in the pocket of my shirt against my heart. Midnight tree. Okay. I can get through the rest. I can get through David, Warren, everybody else. If I know I’m going to see her, I can get through it.
I figure I might as well get the inevitable shit storm over with, so I go looking for David. Jana’s not in her room, and neither is he. Downstairs, smooth jazz floats from the library, where golden light spills out into the hallway. I wonder if Warren’s called him.
“David?” I peek into the room, where a blood-orange fire glows in the hearth. Very Victorian. He’s sitting in his brick-colored leather chair, still as death. “Dad?” Palms sweat, hair stands up. It’s like going to the principal’s office. Except legally the principal couldn’t really disown you or beat you.
I cross soundlessly, digging socked feet into thick Aubusson carpet, a deer creeping up on a hungry wolf. “Listen, I just wanted to apologize—”
He throws a crystal goblet into the fire. Shards of glass scatter, cutting fragments of light into reflecting ribbons. But he says nothing.
I come closer. His fingers are clenched, his knuckles white. I guess he heard. “Dad, I didn’t mean—”
“Do you know that Jim McFarland is probably going to run the Anglicant church some day?” He says this quietly, flatly, without emotion. “He’s going to be the most important person in North America, even more powerful than the president in many ways. And you just kicked him in the balls.”
“I didn’t mean to!” I kneel on the rug in front of him. Firelight etches distorted patterns on his face, making it a ghoul’s Mardi Gras mask. “He just…surprised me. That’s all.”
He laughs, a bitter, rage-filled sound that promises that I’ll make up for what I’ve done. “Surprised you. The 17-year-old virgin. Jesus, what did you expect? Did you think he was interested in you because of your amazing intellect?” He leans forward, places the goblet carefully on the side table, and gazes at me with a cobra’s black eyes. “I want to make sure you’re taken care of, Chris. I’m doing this for you. McFarland is a ticket. I don’t know why he’s so dead set on you—God knows I have no idea—but he is totally smitten. And sex…it’s just mechanics. If you’re afraid, I understand, but listen, people have been doing this since humanity began. It can’t be that difficult.” He thinks it’s about sex. He actually thinks I’m too shy to even be able to kiss someone. I stifle a laugh and pretend to cough.
“I know people your age don’t like the idea of matches. You think it’s archaic, outdated, barbaric,” he continues, staring into the fire. “Warren and I were a match. We grew to love each other. That’s what well-connected families do for their children. This opportunity—well, it’s a miracle, that’s all. I know right now you can’t appreciate it, but please…trust me. He’s so ambitious, and he’ll make your life so much better than you could ever make it on your own.”
Here’s where I could totally screw up. If I can’t convince him, it will all be for nothing, and I’ll never get away. Think of Carmen. Think of her lips, her eyes, the bracelet, the night air, the rough tree. Make it count. “I’m sorry, Dad. I’ll make it up to him. I promise.”
A sharp intake of breath—he doesn’t expect me to be so accommodating. His body relaxes, and the pose of attack softens as he leans back into the chair. “Well,” he says softly. “That’s…good. Very good. Come here.”
I scoot closer to the chair. He reaches out, strokes my hair. It’s like somebody grabs my heart and squeezes. Tears flood out, sobs wrack my chest, and I crawl up closer like a baby looking for comfort. Damn him. I wish I could just purely hate him, but I can’t.
He gently tilts my chin toward him and wipes a tear from my face. “No need for crying,” he says gently. “I know. I know it’s a lot to take it at once. I know you’re young.” He leans toward me, envelops me in his arms, hugs me to him. “I just want what’s best for you, that’s all.”
Sobbing, my breath strangled in my throat, I choke out, “I know.” And I do. And that’s the hell of it. He thinks he’s doing the right thing, the godly thing, the holy thing. Killing and torturing people who are different, who love differently, this is his prayer to his god. He doesn’t see it as evil. He sees it as divine. And because of this, I cry even more.
I don’t remember going back to my room, but I must have, and I must have fallen asleep, because I wake up and the room is dark except for the glow of my clock. Eleven. An hour till the tree, if Andi delivered the message. Should I call her? No. The less contact, the better. After Friday it won’t matter.
I change into fresh clothes, soft, warm sweatpants, a tight black t-shirt and a green flannel that I can strip off easily. The thought of being with Carmen again heats me up, makes me rush. I’ll bring a blanket this time, so we don’t have to lie naked against the tree and the pine needles.
Waiting in the dark…the sky is crystal clear, with stars peppering the midnight blue. Pulling on thick socks, I soundlessly open the French doors, move to the telescope. Through the lens, I pick out some of my favorite constellations: Cepheus, Cassiopeia his female Queen, their daughter, Andromeda. Andromeda was given as a sacrifice by her Perpendicular parents to the sea god Poseidon because they coupled openly and ruled a kingdom in sin. That myth never set well with me. How did they get to be the king and queen if they were outcasts? Why would any loving god of the sea ask for a human sacrifice? And you never hear what happened after that. They just let some foul sea monster eat her up, and never fought to save her? After what Mary told us, I don’t know if anything’s true. Even the gospel truth.
I’m not going to let anybody get Andromeda this time.
Close enough to midnight. I pull on old hiking boots, grab the blanket from the foot of my bed, and head for the tree.
Chapter 10
The crunching of leaves underfoot sounds deafening; noises are always louder when you’re trying to be quiet. I let my feet feel the way through the field, back toward the forest, past brushing edges of evergreen branches.
A noise. I stop still…what if it isn’t her? What if Andi didn’t give her the message? “Chris?” Her voice is barely audible, but enough for me to find her.
I wrap my arms around her, cover her with the blanket, ease her down to the ground so we’re in a secret tent, a world of our own. She grabs my face and pulls it close to her, kisses me hungrily, greedily, like a drowning woman savagely fighting for oxygen. I’m drowning too.
When we finally pause, our eyes are within inches of each other. I flick a flashlight on, point it from below so it’s like a summer camp sleepover ghost story. “Hey,” I whisper, excited. “Andi told y
ou.”
She nods, clutches my arm. “She’s worried about you. Why?”
“Shh.” I flick the light off, pull her toward me, roll over so we’re enveloped in blanket and jackets and warmth. “Let’s just lie here for a little while.” I hold her next to me, her back to my chest, breathe in the scent of her hair.
“What’s going on?” She turns toward me, eyes wide. “Andi’s really freaked out.”
“She is?” Carmen nods. “I don’t care. They’re going to get us out of here. We can go to Canada together. The plan is set; I’m leaving with McFarland this weekend.”
I expected a huge hug, kisses, excitement. Instead, Carmen’s eyes go wide with fear. She picks at her fingers, nervous. “I want to, you know I do. But what if we get caught? It’s a huge risk. Wouldn’t it be better if we just ran away, on our own?”
A soft caress on her cheek, a soft kiss on her dry lips, and I tease a smile from her. “We talked about this. You can’t back out on me now. I need you. We can’t do this on our own. Without help, we’d just be two runaways. How much of a chance would we have?”
“I know,” she murmurs. “It’s just…such a risk.”
“Once we drive there, all I have to do is lock myself in the bathroom. Done. Then we go.” It feels odd to be the brave one.
“But have they given you any details? Where do I meet you after that? Where do you go?”
“Somebody is supposed to come get me at midnight, at the cabin. I think they’ll have arranged to pick you up too.”
“But we don’t know. You’re just trusting them.” She tugs at my flannel shirt, pulls it urgently off me, pulls my t-shirt off too, then buries her face in my chest. “We can’t trust anybody.”
“Jana knows them,” I murmur into her hair. It’s hard to think now, with her face soft against my skin. She shrugs out of her coat, and with numb, clumsy fingers I unbutton her blouse. “If we don’t do anything, nothing will ever change.” How can she be scared now? She was so strong. God, I need her to be strong. Need her to reassure me. That this is right.