“What the hell? How did you do that?” Roy screams and scramblestoward the door. “Take the curse back,” he begs. “I didn’t mean no harm.”
He dashes into the hall—the liar—and runs for the stairs,leaving me in the filthy room. Tired, weak, and afraid, I lose the power tolevitate and drop down slowly. My feet touch the floor, and I fall in a heap. Howdid I do that, lift into the air and float? I have no idea—it’s neverhappened before. What started as playacting, in order to scare Roy away, becamesomething different. Something terrifying.
Was it brought about by the victim’s wrath? I could swear theyempowered me. Or was it a new gift, the kind Mary Arden said would develop overtime?
I don’t know how long I cower there in the dust beforeTitus-of-the-squeaking-boot finds me. “Well, Roy’s upstairs hiding inthe water closet. Won’t listen to nobody.”
He squats down. It sounds as though he’s eating an apple, and Ismell the sweet/stale fragrance of cellar-stored fruit. Leaning forward, mouthslightly open, I yearn to taste it, but Titus pushes against my chest with theback of his apple-clutching fist. “Been asking myself, princess,” he says. “How’da little thing, bones no bigger than a bird’s, scare a man so bad? Roy couldcrush you with two fingers.”
Titus finishes eating and throws the core away. My body turnsin the general direction where it landed. I wish I could snatch up the remainsof the apple and gobble any bits of left-over fruit. But before I can crawl afterthe core, Titus fastens a pair of irons around my wrists and yanks me close.“Tricks are over for today, you hear? I’m nowhere near as dumb as him—and lotsmeaner.”
It’s difficult to keep a straight face. Don’t flatter yourself,Titus. You are just as dumb as Roy, if not more so.
The worthless oaf does not read my mind, however. Instead he standsand rattles my chains. “Boo! Her Majesty’s a ghost.”
He continues this mockery for quite some time, and I plan his entirefuneral and obituary as we walk to the reception hall. I imagine bagpipesplaying on a hill at sunset, smoke billowing from a flaming pyre as his bodyturns to ash. It is a grand, hollow affair, sadly lacking in mourners.
For his wife has run off with the milkman, his children gone totheir friends. And all their acquaintances are drinking a toast at the pub, usinghis obituary for privy paper, saying, “The lad’s gone forever. But notsoon enough!”
I smile to myself as Titus leads me along. It’s a betterservice than he deserves.
Noah Kelly gasps aloud at the sight of me.
“You have thirty minutes,” Titus says, retreating to his placeby the door. “No more than that.”
The doctor leads me to a chair, smelling of everything good andnormal in the world. Cinnamon, chocolate, cold wintry air, dried lavender, pineneedles, healthy horseflesh, and a male body kept clean with the daily applicationof warm water and soap. It’s an unbefitting thing to admit, but I could sithere and inhale Kelly for hours.
Tucking my shift around my knees, I wait for something from thedoctor—swearing, dark humor, comfort of some kind—but there is only silence.I’ve thought of this visit, dreamed of it for weeks, and now that it’s finallyhere he’s at a loss for words? Using my gift of olfaction, I find Kelly’s in quitean emotional state. Anger, a desire for violence against those who hurt me, guiltover his absence and profound relief that I’m still alive. My mostly healed jawgives me a twinge as I smile at Kelly. I’d like to beat Titus to a bloody pulpas well.
He clears his throat and sits forward. “My heart fails me tosee you thus. I was stuck in Boston far longer than I expected, tying up looseends, and returned to Stonehenge only yesterday. Miss Collins informed me ofyour situation, and I left for Ironwood within the hour. Unfortunately, Faustis determined to keep you here, the bastard.”
Yes, well, I am his new favorite.
Thank you, Kelly, I sign. For trying.
He leans close, touches my jagged hair gently and whispers.“Take courage, Hester. I spoke with a fair-minded judge in Stonehenge. The newswasn’t good at first. He told me that as your sole guardian your father was entitledto commit you by law. Grayson also has Faust’s documented diagnosis of yoursupposed mental illness.”
Guessed as much.
“The judge did mention that your situation might change if youmarried.”
Married?
Won’t work.
“Of course, it will. Your husband could sign your releasepapers and free you from this place. It would also help if he had another medicalopinion contesting Dr. Faust’s verdict. I can do both.”
You’re saying…
“I’m saying marry me, Hester, and let’s get you the hellout of here.”
You hate marriage.
Kelly pats my knee. “Don’t worry, we’ll get an annulment intime. And it wouldn’t really be a marriage, would it?”
Other choices?
“Only those that will take years to achieve in court, withoutany guarantee of success.” His laugh is short and sardonic. “Of course, I dohave a pistol in my boot. I could distract the guard and knock him out. Wecould make a run for my horse. Probably both get shot.”
I think of Tom briefly, stunned that doing so doesn’t hurt asit once did. He had years to wed me and always found an excuse to avoid it. Yethere’s Kelly, with his own marriage ending in a painful divorce, ready to stepin and save the day.
The doctor leans back and sighs. “Miss Collins said she wouldstand as your proxy at the Stonehenge courthouse. Once the ceremony iscomplete, I’ll ride for Ironwood with the license hot in my pocket.”
Good old Cordie.
“Should I find another alternative, I’ll pursue it.”
Haven’t said yes yet.
“You just did.” Kelly stands—evidently thinking the matter issettled—and walks to the window. “David Thornhill lives in a far betterinstitution than this, you know.
