Once we enter the study, Kelly closes the door and moves towardthe nearest book shelf, picks something up. A tearing sound, a paper beingunfolded. I listen to his low, dry voice as he reads aloud. It is from myfather’s attorney, written five days ago.
“In essence, this says that your mother left you a stipend inher will,” he murmurs, after the first run-through. “And your father wants mostof it.”
According to the letter, Mama arranged for a deposit of $2, 400annually to a bank account in my name. It was intended as personal wealth, tospend or invest as I deemed fit.
“John Grayson provided well for you, from birth to the presenttime,” Kelly quotes Father’s lawyer. “He has experienced a reversal of fortune,and it is now imperative that you supply him with financial relief as a meansof repayment for past largesse.”
“Largesse? I’ll show your father the largesse of my bootwhen we meet again.” He shakes the letter in disgust. “And his lawyer shouldburn in hell for eternity.”
I touch the doctor’s arm. He will give himself an aneurism ifhe doesn’t calm down. Kelly ignores me and continues reading. “We ask forsixteen hundred dollars a year, leaving you with the remaining eight hundred.In exchange, your father, John Grayson, will relinquish all of his parentalrights. He will have no legal claim upon you, Hester Grayson, or any access toyour future wealth.”
Did I hear that right? He won’t have power over me again? Can’tcommit me to another asylum?
The whiskey-flavored voice draws me back. “You will be givenaccommodations at The Revels for the next thirty days, but we advise you tosecure your own residence post haste as your family home was sold at auction.Please sign this document, should it meet with your approval, and return itforthwith to my office. Etcetera, etcetera. Have I mentioned how much I hatethis lawyer?”
I will sign, I reply.
“Keep your money, Hester,” Kelly replies. “Tell him to—”
Want freedom.
“You’re a married woman now. Your father can’t touch you.”
Not real marriage.
“Yes, I know. You keep reminding me of that.” Kellywanders the study, counting to himself. It helps him control his temper. Aftera few minutes pass, he’s ready to talk again. “Are you sure? Wouldn’t you likesome time to consider this? Sixteen hundred dollars is a lot to give away eachyear.”
He watches me for a moment, probably hoping I’ll change mymind. “All right,” he finally says, flipping his jacket pocket open. “Use myWaterman.”
I take the pen and sign the paper against the doctor’s back.There must be drops of ink everywhere. On my gloves, Kelly’s suit. I don’t givea hang. Once the document goes into effect, I won’t be affluent, but I’ll haveenough money to survive. And most important, I’ll be free of my father.
Kelly paces the room once more, counting a bit louder. I sensethe emotion inside of him—smell the frustration and anger driving each step. Hemakes one final rotation and comes to a stop in front of the study door.
“Are you hungry?” he asks. “Would you like some supper?”
I shake my head, trying to decide what to do next. Investigatethe house further? Unpack? Cry for joy over my newfound independence? Forreasons I do not understand, my reticence bothers the doctor.
“A head shake, a few words in sign now and then, a grimace,” hesays, stepping closer. “That’s all I get from you nowadays, Hester. Where’s thewoman I once knew? Where’s your spirit?”
Temper quickens my heartbeat and warms my skin. Just like aman. Putting himself where he doesn’t belong. I care for Noah Kelly, damned ifI don’t. He’s worked his way into a corner of my heart—sticking there like apuncture weed—but this is a poor time for criticism. I’m tired, my back hurtssomething fierce, and I’m in need of a dose of opium.
Kelly wants spirit, does he? He shall have it.
I push up the sleeves of my coat and launch into sign. Givefather money. My life! Not yours. My decision! Not yours. Stay the hell out!
The doctor remains quiet, leaning against the door, the woodsqueaking under his weight. It feels rather good to be mad, even if I am almostscreaming with my hands. On fire now, I have another go at him.
This is nothing. Nothing. No pain, no cold. Notlocked up or dying. Losing money? Easy.
With that, I snap my fingers. My chest is heaving, and I feelradiant, my former weariness forgotten.
“Why hello, Hester,” Kelly says, sounding breathless himself.“About time you showed yourself.”
I make an obscene gesture, but the whole effect is ruined whenI sway a little. In reaction, Kelly pushes off the door, takes me in his arms,and kisses me right on the mouth.
To say that I am unprepared for this is an understatement.More surprising still, I cannot let go of Kelly. I am enthralled by the strong,hard lines of his body, the texture of the stubble on his cheek, his handentwined in my hair. Vital. Ardent. This man is a new craving, like oxygen,opium, and sustenance, all rolled into one. I push him back to the door, hearhim land against it with a thud.
I am undone, utterly destroyed by the kiss. It tastes sweet andclean, the intentions behind it passion-fueled but honorable. If I maintain ourcontact, will I become sweet and clean and honorable, too? Made whole, as Inever was before?
Closer, Kelly. Please don’t stop.
But an image forms in my mind, disrupting all physicalsensation. Free of revelations for weeks and Fate prods at me now? And with prescience,no less. That rare glimpse into the future of a Visionary seen once or twice ina lifetime. Warning or promise, it’s a roll of the dice.
The image shows Kelly and me, waking in a bed together. Theroom is neat and homely, with calico curtains and a braided rug. We’re nestledclose—I’m pressed up against his back with my arm around his waist, and one ofhis feet is tucked between mine. Kelly’s darkish-gold hair is rumpled on one sidewhen
