by Emily Asad
“Take me away from here,” I beg. “Somewhere I don’t have to think about my mother.”
“I know just the place.” He waves to his family. Eleanor has to pull Henry away. He keeps glancing backward at Alexis. David and I follow George, but we don’t return to the dollhouse. Instead, we tramp around back to the stables.
There she is, my Tiny House. Complete. Wood smoke curls out of her chimney. Lace curtains hang in her windows.
The Whitmans arrange themselves in a semi-circle in front of my Tiny House. “It’s a christening,” David tells me.
George points to a bottle of champagne near my doorstep. “The Suitcase is an accurate description, but we took a vote to name her the Ladyslipper. Whatever her name, she’s welcome to park here forever.”
I nod. “That’s much prettier than a suitcase.”
He hands me the bottle and jerks his chin toward my trailer hitch.
“I hereby dub thee Ladyslipper,” I tell my new house, feeling foolish but victorious. I tap the bottle against my hitch. And then tap it again. A good whack spills champagne all over ground, fizzling its official greeting.
The Whitmans applaud, their gloved hands sounding like muffled raindrops. “Welcome home,” they say.
No matter where we move now, Mamá and I will have a place of our own to live. No more disgusting rental units. No more leaving things behind. If only I could park it here forever, this moment would be perfect – but a Tiny House has wheels for a purpose. I just hope I don’t need to use mine any time soon. My throat grows tight and scratchy as the Whitmans cheer me into my new house.
Before I can step inside, though, David scoops me into his rock-hard arms. “There’s an old Greek custom about carrying the girl across the hearth. Let’s start you out right.” He holds me a moment longer before climbing my stairs and setting me on the floor.
One by one, they file through my door and take a seat at my booth-table. It seats six – just enough for the Whitmans plus me. Eleanor holds Baby John on her lap. David pulls me onto his lap, too. I lean my cheek against his and stare at my beautiful new home.
No wonder Alexis and Phoebe fussed with my hair so long – they were giving the Whitmans time to set up my house. Books sit in the shelves behind the booth. Potted plants sprout in the windowsills. Tiny rugs soften the floor. My kitchen shelves are full of spices, lentils, and enough dry goods to start my own bakery.
“This explains those lists you kept making for Amelia,” I tell Eleanor. “I thought you were stocking up for the holiday season.”
They laugh. I do, too, but only because it helps my throat feel better. I’ve never had so much love before. I hope they won’t take it wrong if I break down and weep. “I didn’t realize it was all done,” I say.
“Not quite. We saved the last hook for you.” David points to a screwdriver on my kitchen counter. I push off his lap – reluctantly – and walk to and space on the wall where I can hang the last hook. Once I’ve screwed it in, David passes me a pot to hang. “Now it’s done,” he murmurs.
I want to kiss him, but I settle for a hug instead. As I turn around to nuzzle my cheek against his shirt, I send up a prayer of thanks to Artemis.
He presses his warm hand to the middle of my back and guides me in a waltz around my kitchen. I’m dancing. In my own home. If I cry, my mascara will smudge. My face hurts from so much smiling.
Eleanor maneuvers around us. “The pie is done,” she says, pulling it from my little oven.
“I thought that scent was an air-freshener,” I say.
“A what?”
“Never mind. Let me get plates.”
Nathaniel keeps Baby John from hitting the forks against my new plates while Eleanor carries the pie to the table. When David slides in, his arms ready to take me onto his lap again, I pause to take a mental photograph. I want this memory forever.
An ugly thought mars the moment: George keeps threatening to move the family to Minneapolis the second they’re free. Artemis said I could halt the de-immunization process at any time before the ring falls off. The Whitmans don’t know I have a way to get them free. I could keep them forever, if I keep the ring…
My heart leaps into my throat when I glance down at my finger. It’s supposed to be one sparkle per hour, but the rate of absorption seems to have accelerated. Only five sparkles remain.
Five! If I don’t get out of the dollhouse now, I’ll get stuck here forever.
The Whitmans’ easy chatter fades to a low buzz in my ears as I cast my gaze to the perimeter just beyond my Ladyslipper. Each heartbeat brings a new thought.
David deserves a life. But if I let him out, what’s to guarantee our future together? Maybe he only loves me because I’m the only girl in his life to love. If he moves to Minneapolis, he’ll have his pick. I won’t be anyone special once he gets out into the real world.
Four sparks left. They’re disappearing faster now.
So long as I don’t balance myself under the dome, I’ll stay safe. I have no idea how to do it, anyway. Should I run to the perimeter, just in case? Can I even make it in time?
Three sparks left.
I could still halt the process and keep the Whitmans…
Keep them happy? Or keep them forever?
Two sparks…
David deserves a future – with or without me.
One spark.
If I’ve learned anything from my time in the dollhouse, it’s to appreciate what I have while I still have it. Sighing in resignation, I sit back down on his lap and bury my face in his neck.
My ring falls off.
CHAPTER FORTY:
STRONGER THAN LOGIC
It fell off.
The metallic clink turns into a high-pitched hum as the ring rolls in a circle around my kitchen floor. Nathaniel jumps off his seat to chase it, but I scream, “Don’t touch it!” and push him into the wall. The Ladyslipper rocks on its wheels.
“What are you doing?” he cries.
“Saving your life.” I bring my foot down on the ring. My fingers tremble as I pick it up.
No fluttering rose petals. No shimmery green leaves.
I’m stuck here forever.
And strangely, I laugh. I have no regrets about that.
“Zenia?” David’s voice rumbles into my thoughts.
“It’s the lumberjack and the boat,” I tell him.
We have to explain the riddle to the family. George shakes his head and asks us to repeat it several times, even after we use the salt and pepper shakers and other spices to demonstrate the solution. “So who’s the timber wolf?” he asks.
“There is no timber wolf,” David says. “It’s all about taking something back.”
But he’s wrong. The timber wolf is time itself. And I just got eaten.
“Just show me,” George says, getting grumpy.
David puts a protective arm around my shoulders. “Are you okay?”
I won’t tell him what this is costing me. I just nod and melt into his half-embrace as we all speed toward the front of the perimeter.
The Akakios family is still there. When he sees me, the Ambassador holds his hand over his heart. “My apologies, young lady. We-”
I interrupt him. Any gratitude he expresses will only make me crankier about what I’m about to do. “You can get them out now. Phoebe, don’t come inside. Stay there and do what I say.” I turn to Alexis. “I need you to resize the Whitmans back to their original height.”
“I can do that!” Phoebe says. “I’m supposed to help.”
“Just don’t. Anything you do will only make it worse.” The hurt look on her face makes me realize I’m snapping at everyone. I take a breath and try to soften my voice. “Your task is to unravel this weave, Phoebe, but Artemis says you can’t until you find the Nephilim who taught it to you. For now, we’re gonna logic our way out of this one.” I nod to Alexis. “Leave me small. Go ahead with the others.”
I don’t tell her I need to stay small so I can live in the dol
lhouse now. Instead, I try to focus on their faces. Poor George has had his heart broken so many times. He’s afraid of another disappointment. I won’t let that happen.
“Now what?” Alexis asks when they’re all as tall as giants – to me, at least.
I hold out my hand. The ring gleams blood-red under all the lights Mrs. Akakios has brought into the room. “Can you make this a little bigger?”
She points at it until it grows so warm and heavy I have to put it on the floor. When she’s done, I could wear it for a crown. My index finger feels empty now. Like my heart.
“Good enough?” she asks.
“I hope so,” I shout. “Now pick it up – but don’t put it on. Just hold it.”
She closes her eyes and takes a step over the chalk line. Right into her mother’s arms.
There’s that hug they’ve been waiting for. Phoebe and her father join in.
Eleanor shakes out her handkerchief and holds it to her eyes.
“That could have been a fluke,” George grumbles. “She’s Artemic.”
“Try me next, then,” says Henry. “I’m human.”
“Hold it, don’t wear it,” I tell him.
Henry doesn’t hesitate. He closes his fist around the ring and plunges outside.
Yay. More hugs all around.
“But he’s bound to an Artemic,” George grumbles again.
Poor George, bracing for failure. I catch Henry’s eye and jerk my chin toward his father.
“You’d better try it, then,” Henry tells George. “In case it doesn’t work on Mother.”
George gulps but takes the ring. He edges toward the chalk line. Beads of sweat pop on his forehead. He presses his fists to his sides and shuffles through. “I made it,” he whispers when he can talk again. “I made it!”
He passes the ring to Eleanor and Baby John. Nathaniel’s turn. Then David.
David looks down at me and then kneels so he’s closer to my size. “Ladies first.”
I paste on a fake smile. He’ll never leave if he knows I can’t. “See you on the other side.”
The minute he steps through, he turns back to me. “Your turn.”
“I’ll be right there. I want to say goodbye to the house. It has meant a lot to me.” It’s not a total lie. Four months is as long as I usually spend in a place, but the dollhouse has become special. I’ve learned to sew and build here, made friends. Fallen in love. More than any other place I’ve lived, I’ll call this one home.
“Snow.” Baby John points at the window. Fat, lazy white flakes dance against the black sky. His mama opens the panes. Ice-air floods the room. The Whitmans flock toward it, drawing in desperate breaths. Fresh air. Snow. Simple pleasures they’ll get to experience for the rest of their lives now.
“Let’s take him outside,” Nathaniel suggests. “His first snowball fight.” He lifts his brother out of Eleanor’s arms and rushes out the door. Eleanor follows them, and George follows her. When Henry and Alexis tag after them, the Ambassador and Mrs. Akakios trail behind. The Ambassador seems reluctant to leave Phoebe, but she tells him she’ll join them when she’s done here. Nobody says goodbye.
Phoebe narrows her eyes at me. She must be guessing the truth, because she keeps glancing back and forth from me to the ring.
David’s still staring down at me. “Your turn.” His eagerness is dwindling into bewilderment. “What’s wrong?”
I wince. “Phoebe, could you bring me to full size for a moment, please?”
“What do you mean, a moment?” His voice fills with concern.
“I knew it.” She covers her face with her hands. “It should have been me, Zenia.”
“It’s okay. I wanted to do this.”
David scowls at both of us. “What’s going on?”
Phoebe flicks a hand in my direction. I grow back to my regular size.
Now it’s my turn to hold my hand where the barrier should be. David presses his hand to mine. I push back, unwilling to let him cross the chalk line.
“You can’t do this.” His clove-breath perfumes the air. “Pick it up, Miss Zenia. Try.”
“Can’t. I made a deal. Your freedom for mine.” My fake smile is getting harder and harder to maintain. “I wanted this for you, David. This is my choice.”
Pain fills his magnificent hazel eyes. “We’re supposed to be together. I know I haven’t done a good job of showing you how much I…” He turns to Phoebe. “Get her out. Now.”
She only shakes her head.
“Then I’m coming in.”
He’s so much stronger than I am – a mountain of solid muscle, as tall as a maple tree. I shove with all my might, but he keeps stepping around me. It’s like a fox trying to hold back a grizzly bear.
“Don’t do it,” I scream. “Phoebe, help me! Shrink him so he can’t get in.”
She tucks her fingers under her armpits. “No more shrinking people. I promised myself.”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” David says, darting to the left. “Stop that.”
I block him like I’m a basketball player. Another block to the right. “I did this for us, David,” I plead. “So you could have a life.”
“Without you? What kind of life is that?”
When he gets one foot over the chalk line, I use the only trick I can think of. It’s not even a good threat, but it’s all I have: “I’ll throw myself out and turn to wood, and then you’ll be stuck here forever. Alone.”
His face goes pale. It’s his worst fear – being stuck here forever – and using it against him is an effective blockade. He doesn’t even remember he could haul me back inside the perimeter to restore me to flesh and blood. He just lets out a soft gasp and holds still. “There must be a way…”
“Not unless you know something that’s stronger than logic,” I reply.
A wry grin pierces the pain on his face. “That’s easy. You. You’re all I can think of anymore.”
I can’t be the solution. It doesn’t make any sense. But the way he’s hypnotizing me with his eyes doesn’t make sense, either. Sometimes I love him so much, I forget to breathe.
His grin disappears, replaced by a hard, thoughtful furrow in his eyebrows. “Did she tell you that? Artemis?”
I nod. “Another riddle. Logic’s stronger than magic, so what’s stronger than logic?”
He brushes back my hair and holds my jaw in his hands, tender victory tugging the corners of his lips into a hopeful smile. “Then now’s the time to say it, Miss Zenia. Don’t you see?” He raises his voice for the gods to hear. “I love you. Do you hear me, Artemis? I love her!”
To prove it, he presses his lips against mine in a fierce, hungry kiss that reveals the intensity he’s been afraid to admit, even to himself. He tastes exactly right. I never knew a piece of my soul was missing until he returns it to me.
What’s stronger than logic?
Love.
David’s love pulls me over the chalk line.
We’re free.
My toes dangle half a foot off the floor as we cling to each other, communicating eternal promises without words. Finally, he pulls back enough to whisper, “I’ll share whatever fate the gods throw at you. If you’ll let me.”
Phoebe clears her throat when we fall into another intoxicating kiss. “Sorry to interrupt,” she mumbles, her cheeks bright pink, “but I have to shrink the dollhouse down so nobody’s tempted to get inside. Do you need anything from in there?”
Disgust covers David’s face. He sets me down without looking at her. “It’s all tainted now, Miss Zenia.” Then he says my name again, “Zenia,” like it’s an exotic delicacy.
We grin at each other, tipsy. Drunk on each other’s presence.
Phoebe rolls her eyes. “Hey, Zen. You want anything?”
It takes enormous effort to look away from David’s perfect face. “Can you bring the Ladyslipper out? And the wardrobe Eleanor’s been sewing for me for Christmas? And all those DVD’s I bought?”
“Sure. Anything else
?”
“My favorite mixing spoon is in Eleanor’s kitchen…”
Phoebe’s gone for a while. When she returns, she passes me my shoe-box sized Ladyslipper, packed with everything I asked for and more. It’s so strange to hold my baby in my arms when I’ve needed a ladder to climb up her roof and into her lofts.
“I’m sure Daddy won’t mind if we find a place in the garage for the winter, and then hook you up when snow melts.” She lays out a handkerchief on the palm of one hand and stretches the other toward the dollhouse. Slowly, slowly, it begins to shrink down. The Bing Crosby record continues to play Christmas carols, its music growing fainter and fainter as the dollhouse shrinks. When it’s the size of a melon, she levitates it to her palm, where it shrinks to the size of an orange. At marble-sized, she drops her hand, panting from exertion. “Could you take my necklace off?” she asks me.
I unfasten her clasp. She shifts pieces of the wooden roof around until they form a loop for the chain. Once the dollhouse is in position, she holds it to her neck while I re-fasten the clasp. Except for its sinister curse, it’s the cutest necklace charm ever. “I’ll have better control this way,” she tells us.
The Akakios family returns to the study. “You read my mind,” Mrs. Akakios says, fingering Phoebe’s new pendant. “Good idea.”
The Ambassador walks straight to Phoebe and kisses her forehead. “My little girl.”
George is the closest thing I’ve ever had to a loving father like that. Saying goodbye will leave a hole in my heart. “Did George mention… moving to Minneapolis?”
Alexis nods. “They’re making plans right now. He wants to leave tonight.”
David clutches my hand. “Tonight?” We look at each other in alarm.
“I wish you didn’t have to move,” I moan.
He clenches his jaw. “We shan’t. I refuse to lose you now.”
“Can’t you convince them to stay?” I ask the Ambassador.
“I’ve known him a long time. He’s not the kind who changes course easily. We owe it to him to help him start a new life.” He nods at Phoebe. “Restitution starts here.”
She gulps. “Yes, sir. Whatever they need.”