by TJ Klune
He stared after her until the taillights disappeared into the trees.
“Okay, old boy,” he muttered. “You can do this.”
Calliope meowed from the crate.
He bent over and opened it. “Now, don’t go far—”
She shot out toward the garden.
He sighed. “Of course.”
He followed her.
The flowers were in bloom, and they seemed brighter than he remembered. He walked along the path until he heard muttering in a strange tongue. He rounded a hedge to see a little bearded gnome digging in the dirt.
He stopped.
“Hello,” he said quietly.
Her shoulders stiffened before she continued digging, Calliope sitting at her side.
He took another step toward her. “New tools working out well, then?”
She didn’t respond, but the dirt was flying out around her.
“Helen told me she was impressed with your garden. Said it was one of the best she’s ever seen.”
“Yes, well,” Talia said irritably, “I am a gnome. I’m supposed to be good at it.”
He chuckled. “Of course you are.”
“Why are you here?”
He hesitated, but only briefly. “Because this is where I belong. And I never should have left to begin with. I only did so in order to make sure you would be safe. All of you. And now…”
She sighed as she set her spade down before turning to look at him.
She was crying.
Linus didn’t hesitate as he scooped her up in his arms.
She buried her face in his neck, beard tickling his throat. “I am going to bury you right here,” she sobbed. “I’m digging your grave, just so you know.”
“I know,” he said, rubbing a hand over her back. “I would expect nothing less.”
“No one would ever be able to find you! And even if they did, it would be too late and you’d be only bones!”
“Perhaps we can hold off on that, for at least a little while. I have something important to say to all of you.”
She sniffled. “Perhaps. But if I don’t like what I hear, we come right back and you will climb inside the hole without arguing.”
He laughed, wild and bright. “Deal.”
* * *
She ran ahead, Calliope chasing after her. Linus took a moment to breathe in the scents of the garden around him. He listened to the waves. If he had any doubts before this moment, they were gone now. He just hoped the others would feel the same.
It was time.
He left the garden, rounding the side of the house. He stopped when he saw what waited for him.
They had gathered in the front of the house. Zoe looked exasperated at the sight of him, shaking her head fondly. Phee was glaring at him. He hoped she wouldn’t turn him into a tree. Or, if she did, at least that it wouldn’t be an apple tree. He didn’t like the idea of them eating him when he blossomed.
Chauncey was fidgeting nervously, as if he wanted to hurry toward Linus, but knew his loyalties lay with those around him. Sal stood with his arms across his chest. Theodore was sitting on his shoulder, head cocked.
Talia was wiping her eyes and muttering in Gnomish. Linus thought he heard her say that she’d have to widen his grave seeing as how he was still rotund.
And Lucy, of course. Lucy, who stood in front of them all, a strange expression on his face. Linus wondered if he was about to be hugged, or if his blood was going to start to boil, causing his organs to cook within him. It could really go either way.
Arthur stood behind them, and though his face was blank and his hands were clasped behind his back, Linus knew he was wary, he could see it in the stiff set of his shoulders. The fact that Linus had played a part in this made him feel ill. Arthur should never be so unsure. Not about this.
Linus kept his distance, though Calliope seemed to have no such problem. She was meowing quite loudly as she rubbed against Sal’s legs, as talkative as she’d been since they’d left the island.
How could he have been so foolish? How could he have ever thought he could leave this place? It was color, bright and warm, and his heart felt like it was finally beating again. He hadn’t realized he’d left it behind. He should have known. He should have realized.
“Hello,” he said quietly. “It’s nice to see you all again.”
They didn’t speak, though Chauncey twitched, eyes bouncing excitedly.
Linus cleared his throat. “I don’t expect you to understand. I don’t know that I do. I’ve made mistakes, some bigger than others. But I…” He took a deep breath. “I heard something once. Something important, though I don’t think I knew just how important it actually was. A very wise person stood up in front of others, and though he was very nervous, he said the most profoundly beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.” Linus tried to smile, and it cracked right down the middle. He said, “I am but paper. Brittle and thin. I am held up to the sun, and it shines right through me. I get written on, and I can never be used again. These scratches are a history. They’re a story. They tell things for others to read, but they only see the words, and not what the words are written upon. I am but paper, and though there are many like me, none are exactly the same. I am parched parchment. I have lines. I have holes. Get me wet, and I melt. Light me on fire, and I burn. Take me in hardened hands, and I crumple. I tear. I am but paper. Brittle and thin.”
Sal’s eyes widened.
“It stuck with me,” Linus continued. “Because of how important it is. How important all of you are.” His voice broke, and he shook his head. “There is nothing to fear from the Department in Charge of Magical Youth. This place is your home, and your home it shall remain. You can stay here, as long as you wish. And if I have my way, others like you will know the same peace.”
Talia and Phee gasped. Chauncey’s mouth dropped open. Lucy grinned as Theodore spread his wings and gave a little roar of excitement. Sal dropped his arms, sagging in relief.
Zoe tilted her head.
Arthur stayed as he was.
It wasn’t enough. Linus knew that.
So he gave everything he had left. “I think you’re lovely. All of you. And though I’ve lived in a world where you didn’t exist for most of my life, I don’t believe that’s a world I can be in any longer. It started with the sun, and it was warm. And then came the sea, and it was unlike anything I’d ever seen before. It was followed by this place, this island so mysterious and wonderful. But it was you who gave me peace and joy like I’ve never had before. You gave me a voice and a purpose. Nothing would have changed if it hadn’t been for all of you. I believe they’ve listened to me, but the only reason I knew what to say at all was because of what you taught me. We’re not alone. We never have been. We have each other. If I were to leave again, I would wish I were here. I don’t want to wish anymore. If you’ll have me, I would like to stay. For always.”
Silence.
He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, wondering if he should say more.
“Excuse us for a moment, Mr. Baker,” Lucy said. He turned toward the others and beckoned them close. The children bowed their heads as they began to whisper furiously. Zoe covered a laugh with the back of her hand.
Arthur never looked away from Linus.
Linus knew it was impolite to try and listen in on a meeting he was not part of. That, however, didn’t stop him from trying. Unfortunately, the children didn’t seem to care that he was most likely about to have a heart attack. He watched as they held their congress. At one point, Lucy drew a finger across his neck, eyes rolling back in his head, tongue hanging out. Talia nodded in agreement. Linus thought Chauncey said something about feeding the cannibals, but he might have misheard. Theodore snapped his jaws. Phee glared at Linus over her shoulder before turning back to the others. Sal muttered something under his breath, and the children gazed up at him adoringly.
“So, we’re in agreement, then?” Lucy asked.
The children nodded.
They turned back toward him.
It was Lucy who spoke for them. “Does anyone else know you’re here?”
Linus shook his head.
“So we could kill you, and no one would be the wiser.”
“Yes, though I would like to avoid that if at all possible.”
“Of course you would,” Lucy said. “We have conditions.”
“I would expect nothing less.”
Talia said, “You have to help me in the spring in my garden and do exactly what I say.”
There was no hesitation. “Yes.”
Phee said, “You have to spend one day a month with me and Zoe in the woods.”
“Yes.”
Chauncey said, “You have to let me do your laundry!”
Oh, how his heart felt like it would burst. “If that’s what you want.”
“And you have to tip me!”
“Of course.”
Theodore chirped and clicked, head bouncing up and down.
“Every single button I can find,” Linus agreed.
Sal said, “You have to let us call you Linus.”
His eyes stung. “I would love nothing more.”
Lucy grinned devilishly. “And you have to dance with me, and when I have bad dreams, you have to come and tell me everything will be okay.”
“Yes. Yes. Yes to all of it. To any of it. For you, I would do anything.”
Lucy’s smile faded. He looked so young. “Why did you leave in the first place?”
Linus hung his head. “Sometimes, you don’t know what you have until it’s no longer there. And I needed to be your voice. So those far away would hear you for all that you are.”
“Children,” Arthur said, speaking for the first time. “Would you please go inside and help Zoe with dinner? I need to have a word with Mr. Baker.”
They complained immediately.
“Now.”
Lucy threw up his hands. “I don’t know why you don’t just kiss him and get it over with. Adults are so dumb.”
Zoe choked on a laugh. “Come on. Let’s leave the dumb adults to it. We absolutely will go inside and start dinner and not watch them through the windows.”
“Ooh,” Talia said. “I get it. Yes, let’s go watch—I mean, make dinner.”
They hurried up the steps to the house. Sal glanced back at them before closing the door behind him.
And immediately appeared in the window with the others, though they tried unsuccessfully to hide behind the drapes. Even Zoe.
Linus loved them very much.
The stars were beginning to appear overhead. The sky was streaked in orange and pinks and blue, blue, blue. The sea birds called. The waves crashed against the rocks.
But the only thing that mattered at this moment was the man before him. This exquisite man.
Linus waited.
“Why now?” Arthur finally asked. He sounded tired.
“It was time,” Linus said. “I—I went back, thinking it was the right thing to do. I presented the results of my investigation to Extremely Upper Management.” He paused, considering. “Presented might be a euphemism. I was quite stern, if I’m being honest.”
Arthur’s lips twitched. “Were you?”
“I didn’t know I had it in me.”
“Why did you?”
Linus spread his hands out in front of him. “Because I … I’ve seen things. Here. Learned things I didn’t know before. It changed me. I didn’t know how much until I no longer had it. When I could no longer wake up and walk to the house for breakfast. Or listen to you teach them. Or discuss your ludicrous thoughts on philosophy with you. Or go on adventures on Saturdays wearing ridiculous outfits while being threatened with a grisly death.”
“I don’t know,” Arthur said. “You don’t seem to have a problem wearing them now.”
Linus pulled on his shirt. “They’re growing on me. My point is that I left because I was scared of what could be, not of what already was. I’m not scared anymore.”
Arthur nodded and looked away, jaw tight. “And the orphanage?”
Linus shook his head. “It’s not … you know, you told me once that the word orphanage is a misnomer. That no one comes looking here to adopt.”
“I did say that, didn’t I?”
“You did. And as I told Extremely Upper Management, this isn’t an orphanage. It’s a home. And that’s what it will remain.”
“Truly?”
“Truly.”
“And what of the others? You said you thought you could help all the others.”
Linus scratched the back of his neck. “I might have done something … illegal? Stole a few files. Maybe more than a few. I have an idea, though it will take time.”
“Why, Linus Baker. I’m utterly surprised at you. Stealing, of all things. It’s not proper.”
“Yes, well,” he muttered. “I put the entirety of the blame on you lot here. You’ve corrupted me.”
Linus thought he saw a flicker of fire in Arthur’s eyes. “You really did all that?”
“Yes. I was frightened, but it was the right thing to do.” He hesitated. Then, “I also quit.”
Arthur looked surprised. “Why?”
Linus shrugged. “Because it wasn’t where I belonged.”
“Where do you belong, Linus?”
And with the last of his courage, Linus Baker said, “Here. With you. If you’ll have me. Ask me again. Please, I beg you. Ask me to stay again.”
Arthur nodded tightly. He cleared his throat. He was hoarse when he said, “Linus.”
“Yes, Arthur?”
“Stay. Here. With us. With me.”
Linus could barely breathe. “Yes. Always. Yes. For them. For you. For—”
He was being kissed. He hadn’t even seen Arthur move. One moment, he thought he was about to break, and the next, his face was cupped in warm hands, and lips were pressed against his own. He felt as if he were on fire, burning from the inside out. He reached up, putting his hands atop Arthur’s, holding them in place. He never wanted this moment to end. For all the love songs he’d ever listened to in his life, he hadn’t been prepared for how a moment like this could feel.
Arthur pulled away, and began to laugh as Linus frantically kissed his chin and cheeks, his nose and forehead. Arthur dropped his hands and wrapped his arms around Linus, holding him close. Linus could hear the children cheering in the house as they began to sway in the light from a setting sun.
“I’m sorry,” Linus whispered into Arthur’s throat, never wanting this moment to end.
Arthur held him tighter. “You silly, delightful man. There is nothing to be sorry for. You fought for us. I could never be angry with you for that. How I cherish you.”
Linus felt his heart settle in his chest.
As they continued to sway to a song only they could hear, the sun finally sank below the horizon, and all was right in this tiny little corner of the world.
Don’t you wish you were here?
EPILOGUE
On a warm spring Thursday afternoon, the sound of an old truck coming up the road to the house filled the air.
Linus looked up from where he was pulling weeds, wiping a hand across his brow, leaving behind a smudge of dirt.
“Sounds like Helen,” he said. “Was she coming to see you?”
Talia didn’t look up as she lovingly patted the soil around a bed of petunias. “Not that I heard. She was talking about another magazine wanting to see my flowers, but she said that wouldn’t be until next month. She didn’t say anything when we were in the village last weekend.”
Linus stood with a groan. “Better see what she wants.”
“If it’s my adoring public, tell them I’m not prepared for company at the moment and that it’s rude to come with so little notice.”
He snorted. “I’ll make sure they understand.”
Talia looked at him, eyes narrowing. “Don’t think this gets you out of weed duty.”
He patted the top of her cap. “I wouldn’
t dream of it. Keep at it. I won’t be long.”
Talia muttered under her breath in Gnomish.
He shook his head, smiling to himself. She was getting more creative with her threats. He blamed that entirely on Lucy.
He wiped his hands on his shirt and walked out of the garden toward the front of the house. The Linus from a year ago wouldn’t recognize the man that existed today. His skin had burned and peeled and burned and peeled until he had what could be described as a minor tan. He wore shorts (by choice!) and his knees were dirty from kneeling in the garden for the last hour. He was still rotund, and had begrudgingly accepted it when Arthur had made his appreciation known. His hair was even thinner than it’d once been, but he had little time for such trivial things. He was comfortable in his own skin for the first time in his life. Perhaps his blood pressure was still a tad high, but life was so much more than worrying about a spare tire or hair on a pillow.
He was humming Buddy Holly when the truck pulled up and stopped with a lurch, the engine coughing and stuttering as it turned off.
“Sounds like it’s about to give up,” Linus observed as Helen climbed out of the truck. She wore a pair of grass-stained overalls.
“Eh. It gets the job done.” She grinned at him. “You’re dirty. Talia holding you to your end of the bargain, is she?”
Linus sighed. “I’ve got her down to three days a week now. I don’t dare try to go any lower. She has yet to fill in the hole that’s supposed to be my grave. It’s a rather effective threat from one so small.”
“It looks good on you,” she said, patting his shoulder. “Arthur inside? I need to speak to both of you. And J-Bone wanted me to remind Lucy the records he ordered came in.”
“Everything all right?”
Her smile faded. “I think so. But it’s best I tell both of you at the same time.”
He didn’t like the sound of that. “Is it something from the village? I thought things were getting better. Last weekend when we were there, we only got a few glares.”
She shook her head. “Not—it’s nothing about the village. And who was giving you a hard time?”