House of Thirteen
Page 3
“Then get back in the chair and you can apologize.”
Ren stared at her. Joe nodded and opened the door.
Each step was followed by minutes of balance corrections and grunting as she tried to get the next step under way. Training had set her in the right direction; she could feel it. Her body knew how it was supposed to work; it just wasn’t supplying enough power to the right places yet.
It took her ten minutes to get out of the room and into the common area. Once there, everything got harder. There were no walls, nothing to support her until she reached the couches in the middle of the room. She could get two paces, on the rare occasion three, before collapsing hard on her knees. Then she had to find a way to stand back up before she could continue her slow shamble across to the study.
All this effort, Ren calculated, was less of a struggle than finding the right words to form her apology. She had apologized for stupid things before, but nothing this monumental. No level of self-absorbed idiocy could rival this. This was the biggest mistake she had made in her life, hands down. She took every bit of the pain she was suffering on her trek across the room as part of her retribution, uncertain it would ever be enough.
The further she went, her already weak muscles began to quake and buckle. It was taking longer to get back on her feet after every collapse, and she was barely making two steps any more. She was barely halfway across the room, falling forward again when the study door opened.
Mariel took one look and didn’t hesitate. She went directly to Ren’s side to comfort her.
“You should not be away from the chair till you are ready.”
“I needed to make amends.”
“No, you do not. I understand.”
“No, I understand. Joe –“ The air between them changed. She felt Mariel stiffen. Ren’s tears revisited her. “She told me. I know there is nothing I can say to make up for it.”
“You were unaware.”
“That’s not an excuse.”
Mariel nodded, she was still silent, reserved. Ren put her arms around her to pull her close.
“I am so sorry,” Ren spoke quietly, her voice strained. “For everything you’ve been through. For everything I will never go through, because of you.”
Mariel hugged her back, the words meaning more than Ren could have expected.
“And I will drink any tea you set before me, I promise.”
Mariel laughed through half-sobs.
“I am certain we can find something you enjoy. It defeats the purpose if you are not enjoying it.”
“Speaking of which,” Joe chimed in as she carried a tray with fresh cups – and a box of tissues – from the kitchen. She set the tray on the coffee table and returned to pull Ren off the floor and help her to the couch.
Mariel and Ren sat beside one another while Joe poured the cups. She passed a box of assorted tea packets to Ren, who decided trial by fire was best, grabbing the first she could in shaky hands. Joe assisted with the tea, and Ren took her time, wondering if maybe she shouldn’t request a sippy cup just one last time.
They enjoyed their tea in relative silence, and Ren realized that tea, at least this variety, wasn’t so bad. She would never fully succumb, though. She loved her coffee far too much.
After a second cup for each of them, Mariel broke the silence by setting her teacup on the table and standing up. “I will see the two of you in a couple hours,” She waved a finger and smiled. “Try to stay friendly.”
Ren raised an eyebrow. “Where are you off to?”
“Colette should be at the airport shortly. Someone should be there to greet her.”
“Colette?”
Mariel raised an eyebrow, suppressing a smirk. “You didn’t think it was just the three of us, did you?”
“Well, I guess I... ” Ren didn’t know how to finish the sentence. She didn’t know what she thought. Everything she thought she knew was a tiny speck in a rapidly expanding universe, but if she was lucky, she would have plenty of time to consider that expanding unknown. “Two hundred years…”
“Give or take,” Mariel winked.
**
Two more weeks of Joe’s continued abuse and Ren was finally rewarded for her efforts with a tour of the upper floors. In her dreams, she imagined it as a musical montage; complete with chandeliers, singing servants and many, many open-armed twirls through large ballrooms. The truth was far less gratifying. In all the muscles that had been reconditioned for living, it was apparent that none of them were the muscles used to climb stairs. These still felt very underdeveloped, making the first flight of stairs a painful preview of the rest of the tour.
Still, Ren was not one to back down from a challenge. The tour must go on… regardless how long it would take.
Three full stories of bedrooms, workrooms, and storage, most of which Mariel declared as “at your disposal”. She was shown to a corner room, empty and unadorned, except for a bed and dresser. Ren walked inside, leaning against the sill, her face almost pressed against the glass. The windows gave her a pleasant view of the oversized lawn bordered by streetlights that wandered off into the dark down the row.
“I thought you might like this room,” Mariel spoke quietly from the doorway. “It was mine once, long ago.”
Ren turned back, trying to smile appreciatively, playing with the buttons on the shirt she was wearing, one of many borrowed items she’d been wearing since her arrival.
“Yes, those too,” she laughed. “Live long enough and everything becomes hand-me-downs for other people.” Ren smiled, looking around the room. She was caught between the sensation of emptiness the room reflected on her own consciousness, and the potential for renewal. The room needed a fresh coat of paint and some new adornments. Ren realized her own life was about ready for the same thing.
It sounded petty, but she missed her clothes. She missed flowing fabrics with tails and hanging accents left for the wind to play with. She missed the feel of the wind, the sensation of flying, or the appearance of it. Being pronounced dead probably meant that her apartment had been emptied. She hoped some nice people owned her belongings now.
She sat on the edge of the bed and let the shock sink in: as far as the rest of the world was concerned, she really was dead, and had been for about half a year. Her thoughts drifted to her friends, and she tried to shut them out. Yes, they had drifted apart, but two things always brought people together: weddings and funerals. She didn’t want to think about her friends wondering, regretting. She cut herself off; she couldn’t do it. The idea of them gathering to mourn her, she couldn’t think of that; it would tear her apart. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to think of something else. Anything else. She sniffled a little and wiped at her eyes. It was almost unbelievable after everything else that she had experienced that she still had tears left inside her.
“It gets easier with time,” Mariel slowly walked into the room. She moved to the window, looking out at the city lights. She paused, putting a hand on the sill before turning to Ren. “There will be days when you forget you are not human anymore. You might even fall in love.”
Ren tried to suppress a gasp. She was on the verge of tears over absent friends and a missing wardrobe; love was a long way from where she was sitting.
“You will find that you can do most of the things you did before; more really. Mortality has a way of making us cautious. Do not be fooled though, you can still bleed, and break bones. The pain will still be there. Take risks, but not unnecessary ones.”
Ren looked up at her, trying to smile. “You make it sound so like such a good life.”
Mariel sat down next to her, putting a hand in hers. “We have been given a second chance; cherish this one while we have it.”
Mariel squeezed her hand again. The look in her eyes told Ren everything she needed to know. It was a good life; certainly better than not having one at all. She nodded and looked around the room again at the bare walls, the empty closet.
“Don’t you worry your
pretty little head about this sad state of affairs,” Josephine came into the room, spinning like a fairy godmother. “Tomorrow is going to be an amazing day.”
She broke the melancholy spell of the room as she pulled Ren from her seat, forcing her to turn.
“Okay, what is so special about tomorrow?”
Joe smiled like the sun. “Tomorrow, we shop! No more plain-Jane – er, Ren. Some threads, some paint, maybe a mirror ball... ”
Ren’s eyes widened, caught between the dream of making her sad little room a comfortable existence and lacking a way to pay for it all. Joe knew the look, and shook her.
“You don’t have to worry - it’s covered.”
“How?”
Joe directed her attention to Mariel. Ren followed the gaze.
“The paperwork is already started. Colette is working out the details. Relax; it’s not some devil’s deal. We all earn our keep and in return, we get to lead a comfortable existence. As soon as you are comfortable, we will start showing you the rest of the ropes.”
Ren just blinked. The gears were no longer turning; too much new at one time brought the gears to a grinding halt. Mariel put a hand to Ren’s cheek, smiling before she left the room.
“It will be fine, Ren. You are a Delaney now.”
**
Ren watched the scenery outside the windows turn from their lush quiet neighborhood to busy streets of bustling Marysville as Mariel’s sedan moved slowly along the city streets. Joe pointed out landmarks and local shops that they could explore sometime. They had left the slow pace of the residential neighborhood behind them. These streets were wide and full of cars rushing in all directions. Beyond the immediate street, where shops and restaurants flew past their windows, tall buildings stood proud in the background, dominating the skyline. There were only a handful of towers to speak of, and not truly a skyscraper-dominated metropolis, but Ren knew from the sight of them that she had been promoted to big city life and would have to learn to deal with that – if she ever bothered leaving the house again. Traffic did not appear to be very hospitable from her vantage point in the back seat. In the front seats, Mariel drove while Colette quietly cursed the other drivers on the road.
“I’m almost certain our insurance will forgive us for a single accident.”
Ren swallowed, not sure she wanted to be in a car with someone encouraging an accident.
“I will not hit someone if it can be avoided.”
Colette cursed again as Mariel was forced to brake hard, the two girls in the back yelping as they lurched in their seats.
“I’m just pointing out that we are in pretty favorable standing, in case someone needs to be taught a lesson.”
To Colette’s disappointment, they arrived at their destination unscathed. Ren rubbed at her belly and her shoulder where the seatbelt had cut in, certain there would be a bruise before the day’s end. Joe pulled Ren from her thoughts both figuratively and literally, taking her hands and twirling her before throwing up her arms in a grandiose gesture.
“May I present the Marysville Mall,” she paused, scowling when the expected applause did not arrive. “One hundred fourteen restaurants, department stores and boutiques to capture your very imagination!”
“If your imagination can only be captured on a bank statement,” Colette droned, but winked at Ren. They had not had much of an opportunity to get to know one another, but Ren thought she liked Colette well enough. She wore glasses even though Ren suspected they were not necessary, but the tortoise shell frames accented her brown eyes so well, it was hard to argue. Her hair was always wrapped up in a twist or a knot, sealing that air of professionalism that her wardrobe already conveyed.
She looked up at Ren, smiling. “Don’t worry about the money. Have fun today.”
Ren didn’t keep the fun to herself in the least. It’s a little known fact that money can in fact buy happiness – at the right times and in the right doses. As four women went store to store, laughing and carrying on and helping one of their own find a part of herself she’d lost, they found the perfect combination that made a perfect day of consumer therapy.
They’d debated Ren’s fashion choices with her, imparted some ideas of their own, and in general found her a little bit of everything she might need for the next year or more. By the end of the day, they were all overloaded with bags, forming a wagon train to protect themselves from the mall rats as they took in a late lunch at the food court.
“I really hope you have everything you need for a while,” Colette looked across the table as she massaged her wrists, creased and red with lines where the shopping bags had cut in.
She pulled at a cheese stick, cutting the stretching fibers with her teeth and smiled. “I really don’t know how to thank you enough for doing this. It’s…” she started to choke up a little.
Joe put her arm around Ren’s shoulders as Mariel reached out across the table. “They might only be things, but they help you feel more like you. It’s thanks enough.”
Colette cleared her throat. “Usually Mariel is the one who reminds us when we are bringing a bit too much attention to ourselves, but I should probably point out that having a good group cry in the middle of the food court is a bit conspicuous.”
Immediately, the tears dried up on cheeks red with embarrassment and laughter.
THREE
Ren had often imagined what immortality might be like. She imagined epic tales, quests, kingdoms and most likely a dragon or two for slaying. She assumed that immortality was reserved for only the greatest of champions and bravest of heroes. A life of obscurity, hidden behind a secret identity... and maybe a fancy lair built around that secret identity.
Somehow, an eternity spent caretaking over early American history on the outskirts of frantic, populated Marysville seemed more like a punishment than a reward. Perhaps she wasn’t as righteous as her ‘bravest of heroes’, but she certainly wasn’t wicked enough to have this thrust upon her.
Maybe you should read the fine print next time you make a deal with the devil.
Except that there was no fine print. No contract. There was no offer to speak of. She was being given a do-over, and she didn’t even have to risk her soul. At least not that she was aware.
Colette had explained that many years ago, she and Mariel set up a grant for the house. Originally, it was to proclaim the house as a historical monument, so that it couldn’t be torn down or sold off by the city. Then, they created a foundation that “maintained” the house and started working toward turning it into a museum.
While the museum was in fact a front, it served a purpose as well. It gave Mariel a chance to share intimate history with further generations. Facts and items that might have been overlooked by historians were all carefully audited and collected in the house while she, Colette and a few of the earliest additions settled in under the first roof they shared as a family. The same roof she and William shared when they tried starting a family of their own. Everything she did after that was to carry on William’s legacy, to keep his memory alive.
Once they set the plan in action, Colette began creating a cycle of “volunteers” that managed the house’s front rooms, the proper museum. As more girls appeared, they found it easier to cycle the “volunteers” every couple of years. While none of the girls ever bothered to change their names, or keep up appearances, the paperwork was immaculate – and always just a little behind. Mariel had decided that Delaney House would be neither the rule nor the exception. She wanted to keep off the radar completely. The truth, as they would learn, was that no one actually cared. No one bothered to make sure that Delaney House was running proper books, or was putting their grant funds to good use. But they kept up appearances to make certain their secret would be safe. The grant money was enough to keep up appearances, but they existed off Mariel’s fortune of rare antiquities and Colette’s wise investments.
If it weren’t for appearances, Ren would be out of a job completely. Traffic through the museum, even though
open, was sparse and predictable. Friday mornings, Saturday afternoons, and event days brought in traffic, but little else. She spent most days memorizing details; not always by choice, but sometimes there was not much else to do without visitors.
The house was, oddly enough, the perfect place for Ren and her newfound sisters to hide in plain sight, although ‘house’ was a misnomer. The house was a nine-bedroom mansion complete with a library, two parlor rooms, a primary and secondary kitchen, four bathrooms, and the great common room that functioned as living, dining and ballroom – though it had not seen an actual ball in many years. It had been expanded over several renovations, each orchestrated by Mariel herself, but the original house was designed and built by its namesake: William Delaney.
“General William Delaney, commander in the United States Army, might have been one of the greatest strategic minds the Civil War had ever known,” she paused her recitation, trying to remember what she had written in her notes. “Except General Delaney died days before the beginning of the Civil War.”
She studied her reflection, looking at her note cards again as she straightened her shirt. Her fingers fumbled with the tie again, only seeming to create a fisherman's loop around her neck. She smiled, unable to suppress a laugh. Mariel insisted on an upscale dress code while tending to the museum and its patrons. For Ren, it felt a little like a Catholic school uniform, and the house did have a boarding school feel, but Mariel never tried to interfere with Ren’s dark makeup or her deep purple hair. She had been wrestling lately with the desire to change the color, as often happened, but she found it was one of the last ties to ‘old Ren’, and she wasn’t ready to let go of that anchor just yet, so the purple stayed.
She turned away from the mirror, closing her eyes and imagining herself standing in the greeting room. She stood next to the fireplace, a larger than life painting of General Delaney hanging over the mantle. She took a breath, calling the words to her. William commanded respect and awe, in life and after. Ren aspired for even a modicum of that presence.