a perfect daytime clarity that beggared her previous efforts at concentration and visualization, fierce and driven though they had been. She could smell frangipani and bougainvillea mingled with a deep and somehow sorrowful olive smell that she knew was the daytime aroma of the sweetheart trees. She could feel the packed hot sand beneath her feet, her bare feet because her sneakers hadn't traveled. Her sneakers hadn't but she had, she had made it, she had gotten over, she was
8
She was back in Boo'ya Moon, standing on the warm packed sand of the beach, this time with a bright sun beating down overhead and making not thousands of points of light on the water but what seemed like millions. Because this water was wider. For a moment Lisey looked at it, fascinated, and at the great old hulk of a sailing ship that floated there. And as she looked at it, she suddenly understood something the revenant in Amanda's bed had told her.
What's my prize? Lisey had asked, and the thing—which had somehow seemed to be both Scott and Amanda at the same time— had told her that her prize would be a drink. But when Lisey asked if that meant a Coke or an RC, the thing had said, Be quiet. We want to watch the hollyhocks. Lisey had assumed the thing was talking about flowers. She had forgotten there had been a very different meaning for that word, once upon a time. A magical one.
That ship out there in all that blue and shining water was what Amanda had meant…for that had been Amanda; Scott would almost surely not have known about that wonderful childhood dreamboat.
This was no pool she was looking at; this was a harbor where only one ship rode at anchor, a ship made for brave pirategirls who dared to go seeking treasure (and boyfriends). And their captain? Why, the brave Amanda Debusher, to be sure, for once upon a time, had not yonder sailing ship been Manda's happiest fantasy? Once upon a time before she had become so outwardly angry and so inwardly afraid?
Be quiet. We want to watch the Hollyhocks.
Oh, Amanda, Lisey thought—almost mourned. This was the pool where we all came down to drink, the very cup of imagination, and so of course everyone saw it a little bit differently. This childhood refuge was Amanda's version. The benches were the same, however, which led Lisey to surmise that they, at least, were bedrock reality. Today she saw twenty or thirty people sitting on them, looking dreamily out at the water, and roughly the same number of shrouded forms. In daylight these latter bore a sickening resemblance to insects wrapped in silk by great spiders.
She quickly spied Amanda, a dozen or so benches up. Lisey skirted two of the silent gazers and one of the scary shrouded things in order to reach her. She sat down beside her and once more took Manda's hands, which weren't cut or even scarred over here. And, as Lisey held them, Amanda's fingers closed very slowly but definitely upon hers. A queer certainty came to Lisey then. Amanda didn't need the other sip from the pool Lisey had taken, nor did she need Lisey to coax her down to the water for a healing dip. Amanda did indeed want to come home. A large part of her had been waiting to be rescued like a sleeping princess in a fairy tale…or a brave pirate-girl cast into durance vile. And how many of these other unshrouded ones might be in the same situation? Lisey saw their outwardly calm faces and distant eyes, but that didn't mean some of them weren't screaming on the inside for someone to help them find their way back home.
Lisey, who could only help her sister—maybe—shuddered away from this idea.
'Amanda,' she said, 'we're going back now, but you have to help.'
Nothing at first. Then, very faint, very low, as if spoken out of sleep: 'Lee-sey? Did you drink…that shitty punch?'
Lisey laughed in spite of herself. 'A little. To be polite. Now look at me.'
'I can't. I'm watching the Hollyhocks. I'm going to be a pirate…and sail…' Her voice was fading now. '…the seven seas…treasure…the Cannibal Isles…'
'That was make-believe,' Lisey said. She hated the harshness she heard in her own voice; it was a little like drawing a sword to kill an infant that lay placidly on the grass, hurting no one. Because wasn't that what a childhood dream was like? 'What you see is just this place's way of catching you. It's just…just a bool.'
Surprising her—surprising her and hurting her, Manda said: 'Scott told me you'd try to come. That if I ever needed you, you'd try to come.'
'When, Manda? When did he tell you that?'
'He loved it here,' Amanda said, and fetched a deep sigh. 'He called it Boolya Mood, or something like that. He said it was easy to love. Too easy.'
'When, Manda, when did he say that?' Lisey wanted to shake her.
Amanda appeared to make a tremendous effort…and smiled. 'The last time I cut myself. Scott made me come home. He said…you all wanted me.'
Now so much seemed clear to Lisey. Too late to make any difference, of course, but it was still better to know. And why had he never told his wife? Because he knew that little Lisey was terrified of Boo'ya Moon and the things —one thing in particular—that lived here? Yes. Because he sensed she would find out in time for herself? Again, yes.
Amanda had once more turned her attention to the ship floating in the harbor that was her version of Scott's pool. Lisey shook her shoulder. 'I need you to help me, Manda. There's a lunatic who wants to hurt me, and I need you to help me put a spoke in his wheel. I need you to help me now!'
Amanda turned to look at Lisey with an almost comical expression of wonder on her face. Below them, a woman wearing a caftan and holding a snapshot of a smiling, gap-toothed child in one hand looked back and spoke in slow, drifting remonstrance. 'Be…quiet…while…I think of…why…I…did it.'
'Mind your beeswax, Betty,' Lisey told her briskly, and then turned back to Amanda. She was relieved to see Amanda was still looking at her.
'Lisey, who…?'
'A crazy man. One who showed up because of Scott's damned papers and manuscripts. Only now what he's interested in is me. He hurt me this morning and he'll hurt me again if I don't…if we don't…' Amanda was turning once more toward the ship riding at anchor in the harbor and Lisey took her head firmly in her hands so they were looking at each other again. 'Pay attention, Beanpole.'
'Don't call me Bean—'
'Pay attention and I won't. You know my car? My BMW?'
'Yes, but Lisey…'
Amanda's eyes were still trying to drift toward the water. Lisey almost turned her head back again, but some instinct told her that was a quick fix at best. If she really meant to get Amanda out of here, she had to do it with her voice, with her will, and ultimately because Amanda wanted to come.
'Manda, this guy…never mind just hurting, if you don't help me I think there's a chance he might kill me.'
Now Amanda looked at her with amazement and perplexity. 'Kill— ?'
'Yes. Yes. I promise I'll explain everything, but not here. If we stay here long, I'll end up doing nothing but gawking at the Hollyhocks with you.' Nor did she think this was a lie. She could feel the pull of the thing, how it wanted her to look. If she gave in, twenty years might pass like twenty minutes and at the end of them she and big sissa Manda-Bunny would still be sitting here, waiting to board a pirate ship that always beckoned but never sailed.
'Will I have to drink any of that shitty punch? Any of that…' Amanda's brow furrowed as she struggled for memory. Then the lines smoothed out. 'Any of that bug-juuuuuice?'
