“Why me?” Heather asked.
“Why would the Goddess of Love be consulted on this kind of epic punishment?” Blane asked.
Heather raised her eyebrows and waited a moment.
“Yes,” he said. “I do want to know.”
“Remember that whole ‘saved a species from an eternity of torture’ thing?” Heather asked.
Blane nodded.
“Turns out that gave me some . . .” Heather shrugged.
“Some?” Blane asked.
“Status, I guess,” Heather said. “Power. Respect. That’s probably the best word. I gained respect.”
Heather nodded.
“You’d be amazed at what I can do now,” Heather said.
“Oh, yeah?” Blane asked. “Can you make the baby sleep through the night?”
“I’m not that powerful!” Heather said with a laugh.
Laughing, they made their way upstairs to bed.
~~~~~~~~
Wednesday night — 9:57 p.m.
“So Jake asked me if we’re going to try to have another baby,” Valerie said.
She was sitting cross legged against the wall in the small utility space at the Marlowe School. Their toddler, Jackie, was sleeping on her lap. Mike had climbed all the way up to the ceiling of the space. He and Jacob had set up a simple scaffolding so that he could paint the upper levels without risk of falling. He was sitting with one leg on either side of a board and painting the ceiling baby blue with a small roller on a long stick.
“Yeah?” Mike asked.
“Did you tell him we were having another baby?” Valerie asked.
“I told him you’d called me to tell me it was time to do it,” Mike said with a laugh.
Valerie laughed.
“I don’t think he believed me,” Mike said.
“Why?” Valerie said.
“When would you ever have to call me to do it?” Mike asked. “You just have to wander by, and I’m ready. I can’t even watch you on the television without feeling intense pressure in the nether region. He knows that’s true.”
Valerie laughed. Her laughter brought the female ghost that inhabited the Marlowe School. The woman leaned over to take a look at Jackie. She smiled at Valerie and flew up to see what Mike was doing. Unable to communicate with the ghost, Valerie watched the specter’s kind concern with what they were doing.
“The ghost is right behind you,” Valerie said.
Grunting, Mike shrugged.
“Jake took the paranormal block off the inside wall of this area and put it on the outside instead,” Valerie said.
“Sounds smart,” Mike said.
“Yeah, this space was a pretty big oversight,” Valerie said.
“Who would have ever guessed that a trainload of kids would have derailed right here?” Mike asked. “And that whole train thing. So awful, naïve . . .”
“Delphie says that the Orphan Train is a part of the fabric of the US,” Valerie said.
Mike snorted.
“She also says that most children were actually better off,” Valerie said.
“On the train?” Mike asked.
“She says that most were treated with indifference,” Valerie said. “Not malice or cruelty or even sexual perversion. ‘Simple indifference is better than starvation on the streets of New York.’ At least that’s what she says.”
Mike didn’t respond. The sound of the wet paint roller stroking the walls filled the space.
“Some were loved,” Valerie said.
“I’m sure that’s true,” Mike said. “I’m sure some were abused, molested, and murdered.”
“They probably would have been living on the streets,” Valerie said.
“I guess that’s true,” Mike said. “I just . . .”
He rolled covered the last empty spot with paint and moved to work on the walls. Noelle had drawn big, fluffy white clouds. He had to paint much of the wall by hand. He tucked the roller into a small plastic lock back and tucked the rolling pan into a large trash bag. Valerie climbed up to get the rolling pan from him.
“I’m going to keep the roller in case I need it,” Mike said. “Can I have the contrast paint for the clouds?”
Valerie climbed down to set the pan on the ground and climbed back up.
“I need the small container of contrast that I made before we came,” Mike said.
She pulled it out of the pocket of her fleece. He grinned sheepishly.
“Medium-sized brush?” Mike asked.
She pulled it out of the other pocket.
“You are good,” Mike said.
“It’s been a while since we’ve painted all night, but I still have some moves,” Valerie said.
He laughed. She made kissing lips at him and climbed back down. He set to work on painting the baby blue around the clouds. At the bottom, she checked on Jackie before sitting down again. She settled in to watch. Before her eyes, Mike took two-dimensional cartoon clouds and made them into full, fluffy clouds. His skill was breathtaking.
“How does it look from down there?” Mike asked.
“Gorgeous,” Valerie said.
Mike grunted and kept working.
“It’s just that,” Valerie said and sighed. “Jake’s always known what’s going on with me.”
“He said something about warm testicles and sons,” Mike said. “He probably knows.”
“No, he would have said something more specific,” Valerie said.
“More specific than warm testicles are needed to have sons?” Mike asked.
“It feels weird that he doesn’t know,” Valerie said.
“You could always talk to him,” Mike said. “That’s how most people share information.”
“That’s not how we work,” Valerie said. “He just knows about me, and I . . .”
She winced at her selfishness. She looked up at him.
“Is Jake all right?” Valerie asked.
Mike didn’t respond. Instead, he picked up what he’d been working with and carried it to the lower level. She waited for him to move the scaffolding and formulate an answer. He was sitting at the next level before he cleared his throat.
“Is Jake okay?” Mike asked. “I guess the best I can say is that I don’t really know.”
Tears came to Valerie’s eyes as a shard of pain ran through her.
“What happened to Jake?” Valerie asked. “What happened to my brother?”
“He was in the Sea of Amber,” Mike said. “It’s stuck with him in some way. My dad says it sticks to places where he’s confused in some way.”
Unsure of what to say, Valerie looked up at Mike’s swinging feet. She hoped that her look would inspire him to say something else. But this was Mike. He barely spoke on a good day. Tonight, his sole focus was making sure Noelle’s first large project was perfect in every way.
“Mike?” Valerie asked.
“Valerie,” Mike said.
“Is Jake going to be okay?” Valerie asked.
She sniffed, giving away her fear and sorrow. Mike leaned over to look at her. He gave her a soft smile.
“Jake’s got to work some shit out,” Mike said. “Lipson is at a place where he doesn’t have to be there every day. He has three children and a wife he loves. The Castle is mostly repaired. Even without the Sea of Amber, the boy’s going to have some shit to think about.”
“Like what?” Valerie asked.
“How about his purpose in life?” Mike asked. “Whether or not he actually wants to be a carpenter. If he wants to start a new business or focus on the properties he owns or be a house-husband. No matter what, he’s got a lot to think about.”
“But is he going to be okay?” Valerie asked.
Mike smiled at the wall in front of him. For all of her sophistication and capacities, Valerie was still a simple older sister from the town of Denver.
“I think so,” Mike said. “Don’t you?”
Valerie was silent for so long that he looked over at her again. She was staring
straight ahead.
“Val?” Mike asked.
“You know,” Valerie said with a nod, “I actually do think Jake is going to be okay. Yes. I do.”
“But?”
“I think he’s not going to like figuring it out,” Valerie said. “Good thing we’ll be here to help him.
Nodding, Mike returned to work. When he looked down again, she was asleep.
“Good thing we’ll be here,” Mike said in a low voice and continued working.
Chapter Three Hundred and Ninety-Eight
Thursday morning — 6:35 a.m.
Ivy stood in front of the full-length mirror on the closet door in her small, warm bedroom, just off Delphie’s apartment kitchen. A small girl, her body took up only the bottom portion of the mirror. The reflection of her twin bed with its purple comforter and her violet dresser hung, in the mirror, a halo over her head.
Ivy tugged on her shiny-purple dressy vest. Much to Ivy’s surprise, the garment was too small. So were the shiny dark-purple shoes she’d planned to wear to court. Her skirt barely covered her rear end now. She grimaced at herself.
She knew she’d been growing. She’d just planned on wearing these clothes because Honey had given these clothes to Ivy when she first came to live with Delphie. Ivy loved Honey. Plus, Honey knew exactly how Ivy felt because Honey had been through an awful trial. Ivy was sure that these clothes would give her the strength to get through her stupid victim’s statement.
Ivy tugged on the skirt. It inched down. As soon as she let go, the skirt popped back up to show her underwear. For a moment, she wondered if Delphie had shrunk her clothes in the washer.
Truth be told, Delphie wasn’t much of a housekeeper and not a great caretaker. Delphie loved Ivy completely. She loved all the good and every inch of the bad, angry, resentful, mean Ivy. Delphie was there for Ivy any moment Ivy needed her, even if Delphie was doing something else or it was the middle of the night. Delphie just wasn’t very good at the laundry or keeping the house clean. And her casseroles could scorch paint off metal — at least that’s what Jacob said.
Ivy flashed a smile at the joke before she scowled at her clothing problem.
How did she get so tall? Why was this happening? She went over to the door-jamb where she measured herself. She backed up to the trim and held her hand over the top of her head. Scooting out from under her hand, she took a look. She was now an inch taller than her careful figuring of how tall her grandmother had been. She was almost as tall as the mark she’d made for her Aunt Gracie the last time Aunt Gracie was in town on leave. Ivy was still shorter than Delphie but definitely catching up.
“You’re healthy,” Aunt Gracie had said when Ivy told her about growing so tall. “You’re happy. I can’t think of a better thing.”
Ivy stood before the mirror and wondered the question she was afraid to ask anyone.
What if she blew the whole case because she’d grown so much? Because she was so happy?
She should be miserable after what those guys did to her. And sometimes, she felt miserable. Delphie stayed with her when she’d cried all night after seeing the guy again. Sometimes, she got so scared that her whole body shook. More than once, she’d woken up screaming in terror. Delphie was right there with tea and warm love.
But sometimes, Ivy laughed and laughed. Sometimes, she and Noelle made a sheet tent in Delphie’s living room and gossiped about boys until long after bedtime. Sometimes, she spun in circles with Katy and Paddie until they all fell over. Sometimes, she played dress-up with Noelle, Katy, and Tink with Ms. Valerie’s expensive gowns. Sometimes, she and Charlie played competitive Solitaire. And sometimes, Charlie was the Pan, and the Pan always let Ivy win.
Sometimes, Ivy sat on Mr. Sam’s lap. Mr. Sam had a really nice lap that seemed to help her when she was sad or feeling stupid or small and invisible. She’d climb up on Mr. Sam’s lap, and he would hold her there until she felt better. She always felt better after being on Mr. Sam’s lap.
Sometimes, Ivy even forgot all about what those guys did to her and how she almost died and how they beat her and raped her and made her feel like it was all her fault. Sometimes, she forgot that her dad died in Iraq and how cancer made her gran fade away. She even forgot that Auntie Gracie was in terrible danger on active duty in some stupid war.
Sometimes, all of the bad stuff felt like it was over.
Sometimes, Ivy was happy, really happy.
What if the judge and jury looked at her and thought — This happy girl is so silly. She wasn’t hurt! She didn’t suffer at all! She’s making the whole thing up.
Ivy was sure that she was going to ruin everything.
“Stupid,” Ivy said to herself and tugged on the vest again.
“Who’s stupid?” Honey’s voice came from the door. “You’d better not be talking about my friend, Ivy, or we’re going to rumble.”
Ivy jerked toward the sound. Honey was sitting in the doorway in her sport wheelchair.
“Honey!” Ivy yelled at the top of her lungs.
Valerie’s baby Jackie squawked with surprise on the other side of the wall. Ivy blushed. Honey held out her arms, and Ivy threw herself at her. Even though she was not such a little girl anymore, she still fit in Honey’s wheelchair. Honey kissed Ivy’s honey-blond hair.
“Whoa!” Honey said as she saw Ivy’s underwear reflected in the mirror. “That skirt is too short.”
“I know!” Ivy said. “Isn’t it awful?”
Ivy stood up and turned around to show Honey.
“We need to go shopping,” Honey said.
“I have school!” Ivy said.
“Luckily, we’ll have time after work,” Honey said.
“Work?” Ivy asked. “Wait, why are you here? I thought they were going to do something and you were going to walk again.”
“Turns out that the magic is not so instantaneous,” Honey said.
“What’s that mean?” Ivy asked.
“It takes a while to make it all happen,” Honey said.
“Why didn’t you stay in New York?” Ivy asked. “Sissy showed me the apartment when we talked. It’s really great. She said there’s a Chef named ‘Giovanni.’ He takes care of everything, and he’s cute. Pretty nice.”
“It is amazing,” Honey said. “But . . .”
Honey shrugged.
“This is my life,” Honey said. “Plus, I wanted to be here for your big day. I really couldn’t miss that.”
Ivy hugged Honey again. When she pulled back, Ivy had tears in her eyes.
“Did you hear that I got a big promotion?” Honey asked to keep Ivy from crying.
“Um-hm!” Ivy said with a nod.
“Maggie and I thought we’d come home and see what was what,” Honey said. “Plus, I wanted to have time to spend with my brave friend while she does this really hard thing.”
“When’s MJ coming home?” Ivy asked.
“This weekend,” Honey said.
“And Maggie?” Ivy asked.
“She’s next door playing with Valerie and Jackie,” Honey said. “MJ can’t really take her to work.”
Ivy laughed at the idea of MJ taking their baby to his military training. Honey grinned at Ivy.
“How are you holding up?” Honey asked.
“Okay,” Ivy said. “But . . .”
Ivy looked up to see Delphie standing behind Honey. Delphie hugged Ivy and kissed her cheek before wandering into their kitchen.
“But?” Honey asked.
“I’ve been pretty happy,” Ivy said in a low voice. “I mean, not happy about what happened or anything.”
As if she’d explained everything, Ivy nodded. Honey gave a little shake of her head to indicate she didn’t know what Ivy was talking about.
“If he’s going to get his worst sentence, don’t you think I should be in bad shape?” Ivy asked, keeping her voice low. “You know, like I haven’t ever been happy — not at all or anything — because of what he did?”
“I know what you
mean,” Honey said in the same conspiratorial tone. “I felt like that.”
Ivy gave Honey a sincere nod.
“And honestly, I don’t really know,” Honey said. “If you were really sick or in the mental hospital like that one girl, maybe he would get a worse sentence, but you’re talking a few more years. He’s not going to live long enough to get out of prison, so, what do a few more years matter?”
Ivy nodded.
“And where would you be?” Honey asked. “I wouldn’t have married MJ. We wouldn’t have our Maggie. I wouldn’t be getting my big promotion because I’d have had to start from scratch after the trial, rather than working with Bambi this whole time. I wouldn’t even have done a year and a half of college!”
Honey shrugged.
“It’s not worth it,” Honey said. “He’s not worth it.”
“Are you sure?” Ivy asked.
“Positive,” Honey said. “Plus, if you were in the mental hospital, you wouldn’t be able to help me make waffles.”
“Waffles?” Ivy brightened. “How come?”
“We’re celebrating how lucky we are,” Honey said.
“Lucky?” Ivy asked.
“We get a chance to be together,” Honey said. “That’s pretty fabulous.”
“Yes, it is!” Ivy said. She jumped up and down with excitement.
“Why don’t you get changed, and I’ll get started?” Honey asked.
“Okay!” Ivy said.
Honey wheeled out of Ivy’s doorway, and Ivy shut the door. Delphie mouthed “Thanks,” and Honey smiled.
“See you at breakfast!” Honey said.
Grinning, Honey left the apartment. Mike was standing outside of the door to help her downstairs. Once down, she started on the waffles. Soon, the coffee was going, the waffles were baking, and the morning was underway.
~~~~~~~~
Thursday morning — 8:35 a.m.
“Are you ready, my love?” Ivan asked.
Sissy nodded. She was wearing a large, light-pink shirt with a boat neck wide enough to show her thin, white shoulder. She was wearing her pink, knee-length practice skirt. She had put on her toes shoes and favorite pink tights. Her long hair was up in a classic knot. She was sitting in a high-backed wooden chair in the middle of the workout area. There was a green screen behind her. Ivan was looking into the digital video camera on a tall tripod. Charlie and Dale were sitting at his feet. They were taping her victim’s statement. Giovanni’s head flashed in the open doorway.
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