Amber House: Neverwas (29 page)

think twice before taking us all on.”

That was a lot of information I hadn’t considered before. And

it didn’t sound good. “Does Richard know all this?”

“I’m guessing he’s probably better informed than your typical

seventeen-year-old. Anyway, honey, now maybe you can under-

stand a little more why we thought it was so important to come

back to Amber House and do what we could to help get Robert

elected.”

Mom kind of slipped in between me and Dad then. “Enough

about politics!” she said cheerily. “And no talk of this at the din-

ner table in front of Sammy. Some things are too scary for a little

guy, especially one —”

Especially one who doesn’t think about the world the way most kids
do
, I finished mentally.

My dad pulled open one of the ovens. “Goose is about done,”

he reported. “Be on the table in about ten minutes. Can you

round up Sammy?” he asked me.

“Sure.”

My mother linked her arm through mine. “You’re going to

have fun in Richmond with Richard. Do you have any idea what

you’re going to wear?”

I mentally rolled my eyes. Yes, of course I did. I nodded and

pushed out the swinging door to the hall.

The way my parents thought about Robert Hathaway, I

could understand why they’d seemed to be pairing me up

with his son. They looked at Richard and saw an important

man in the making. But, Lord, I wished my mother would stop

pushing.

N

176 O

Cleanup from dinner was an hour-long ordeal, but when it was

done, I was glad to put Christmas behind me. Seemed like it had

been going on forever. I felt so much
older
than I had only a week before.

Up in the Flowered Room, I fussed over the clothes I would

wear to the city in the morning. Something that would travel

well — three hours in the car at least — but would look grown

up and ladylike.

I noticed I had left the little dollhouse partially open. I pulled

the front back and picked up my old pieces of poem.

If you have the chance to choose —

I threw the scraps in the trash.

A familiar tap sounded on the window. Jackson was out there,

standing in the cold, his breath puffing little clouds.

We had to finish our conversation. And I had to try to make

him understand — I was not, could not be, Pandora. I nodded

and pointed toward the conservatory.

N

He was waiting for me by the statue, sitting on the edge of the

pool. “I came to say I’m sorry,” he started. “I shouldn’t have

pushed at you that way. You can’t see what I see, so you couldn’t

possibly want to change things as much as I do.”

“What do you see?” I asked.

He shook his head. He wasn’t going to tell me. He reached

into his pocket and held something out for me. “I also owe you a

Christmas present, I believe.”

“I don’t think
owe
is the operative word,” I said, but I held out my hand.

He dropped a little bow-tied box onto my palm. I opened

the box and was — surprised — by what was inside. A military

o177

medal. I lifted it out of its nest of tissue to look at it closely. It was a British medal of valor.

“It was my dad’s,” he said. “He fought for the last colony

against the Japanese. Got it for charging a machine-gun nest

when his platoon got pinned down outside of Melbourne.

He took a bullet, but he cleared the nest. Whenever I’ve felt

too discouraged to go on, I say those words to myself: ‘Clear

the nest.’ ”

“I didn’t know your dad was British.”

“Yeah. His parents left England just before the end of the

Second European War. Then, when Australia fell, he got out and

went to New England. That’s where he met my mom.”

“You can’t give me this, Jackson.”

“I want you to have it.” He searched for words. “Sare, I know

something about you that you don’t seem to know about

yourself.”

“What?”

“You’re the bravest person I ever met. I’ve always thought so,

from the very first. I’ve never seen you back down from any

challenge or anything you thought was right, even if you were

scared out of your mind. So if you don’t want to” — his voice

dropped lower — “try to change things again, I have to respect

that. All right?”

My nose stung. He was too generous to me. He’d always been

that way. “Thanks,” I managed. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “Maybe someday I’ll be brave enough to

tell you what I see.”

“I still can’t take this from you,” I said, holding it out on my

palm for him.

He curled my fingers around it. “It’s the only thing I have to

give you. And it’s the thing I want you to have.”

He smiled at me gently, then went back out into the night.

178 O

N

Someone is calling my name: “Sa-a-a-rah. Sa-a-a-a-rah!” I slip my feet
out from under the covers and jump down.

“Sarah,” the voice whispers. I run on tiptoes to follow. I see someone
run into the other hall.

The first door is partway open and I see Amber’s hand on it, disappearing inside. I go push the door open all the way.

The moon is so bright I can see everything. An old woman is sleeping
in the bed. She has white hair that spreads all over the pillow like spider
silk. She opens her eyes and looks at me.

“Who are you?” she asks.

“Sarah. Who are you?”

“Fee.” She pushes back the covers and gets up out of the bed, and
suddenly she is a little girl. Like me. She says, “Want to see something?

Come on.” I look back as we leave and see the old woman is still there,
sleeping.

We sneak down the stairs and go through a trapdoor in the kitchen
closet. Down again on secret stairs. Two women are there. A pretty black
woman lying on the bed and a tall white woman sitting beside her. I’ve
seen the two women before, that other time I went with Fee.

There is a little squirming bundle tucked into the nook of the black
woman’s arm. She seems very tired. She is having a hard time speaking.

“You’ll keep your promise.”

“I will,” the tall woman says. “If it comes to that, I will raise her and
love her as my own. But it won’t, Della. You are young and strong. This
won’t kill you.”

“It will,” she says dully. “I’ve seen it. No matter. You tell her . . . I was
willing to pay the price.”

The baby starts to fuss then, and the tall woman picks her up and
gently bounces her in the crook of her arm. “Shh, shh, shh,” she says.

Fee crooks her finger at me. “Come closer.”

o179

We creep up right next to the woman, but she doesn’t notice us. We’re
invisible girls. “Look at her eyes,” Fee says to me. “Do you see?” I stand on
tiptoes to look.

The tall woman says to the other, “What is her name?”

The black woman says, “Call her Amber.”

I am excited.
So this is Amber
, I think, looking right into her large
brown eyes. And then I see and feel that Amber is looking back into mine.

CH A P T ER NI N E T EE N

K

As I got dressed the next morning, my mind worried at my

dream.
Why had ancient Fiona wanted me to see the baby’s eyes?
She wanted me to see that Amber could see the future, like Nanga?

It would explain why Fiona thought Amber had been the one

responsible for making time go wrong.

When I was finished, I looked at myself in the full-length mir-

ror. I knew that the Sarah who’d used this mirror in the other

past would not approve of my outfit: a high-waisted plaid dress

with coordinating wool coat. Gloves. A beret. It was all too —

compliant
. That other Sarah was never compliant.

Which may be why, when Richard pulled up, got out, and

walked around the hood as I came down the steps, I quickened

my pace to beat him to the car door.

He smiled. “You really take all this equality business seri-

ously, don’t you, coz?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I guess I do,
coz
. Got a problem with that?”

He shook his head emphatically. “Not me.” He turned around

and went back to the driver’s door to climb in. He looked over.

“I think the dress just confused me a little. Forgot who I was

dealing with. You look nice, by the way.”

“Nice and girly,” I grumbled.

He laughed.

A memory tugged at me, playing out like a scene in my head.

Richard and I were sitting in a different idling car, and he

was apologizing: “I don’t know why I lied to you like that —

o181

it was stupid, okay? It’s just — I just didn’t want to have to say it out loud, you know? That she up and left us.”

Claire
, I realized. In that other time, she had left Robert and abandoned Richard. But this time around, she was a picture-perfect wife.

There was something more to the memory. That other

Richard — he’d leaned over, put his index finger beneath that

Sarah’s chin, and kissed her. Kissed me. I’d let the other Richard

Hathaway kiss me that night, and I’d liked it very much.

I wondered if I’d like it again.

This Richard Hathaway revved the engine. Then we shot out

of there like a bullet. “This car has no seat belts,” I said.

“Nope,” he said. He was still grinning.

We turned south across a bridge over the Severn, with

Richard going as fast as ever. “How far is it to Richmond?” I

asked.

“About two hundred miles.”

“How long will it take?”

He slowed, downshifting. “About thirty minutes.”

“Not even
you
are that fast,” I said.

He hung a right through a gate. When we cleared the trees, I

saw where we were.

“Yeah, Parsons, I’m that fast.”

A small airfield spread out before us, with a pretty little

Messerschmitt twin-engine plane on the tarmac, ready and

waiting.

He parked the car next to the hangar. A mechanic was there,

wiping his hands on a rag. “All gassed up, Mr. Hathaway.”

“Um.” I’d noticed something missing. Some
one
. “Where’s the

pilot?” I asked Richard.

“You’re looking at him.”

“Oh, no,” I said. “Nuh-uh. I’ve seen the way you drive.”

182 O

He laughed and opened the door on the right side. Then he

took my arm, guessing correctly that some physical encourage-

ment was going to be necessary to propel my body onto that

plane. “Been flying since I was twelve. Got my license when I

was fifteen. Whenever my dad and I go south, I’m the pilot.

Believe me, Dad would never trust his life to me if I weren’t

competent.”

I reminded myself that Richard Hathaway was more than

competent at everything he did. I forced myself to climb into

the seat.

Richard settled himself, turned the engine over, then started

flipping switches and checking gauges like he knew his busi-

ness. “Seat belt,” he directed, and snapped his closed. He pulled

a stick of gum from his pocket and started chewing with great

concentration.

“Wait a minute,” I said. “Shouldn’t we have parachutes or

something?”

“Suck it up, coz. Your fate is entirely in my hands.” He grinned

again, that wicked, crooked grin. “Enjoy the flight.”

He eased the throttle forward and the plane lurched into

motion. We taxied onto the runway, started to pick up speed.

Within seconds, the wheels had left the ground. “The most dan-

gerous parts of flying are takeoff and landing,” he told me.

“You’re already halfway there.”

I nodded my head toward the windshield. “Just pay attention,

all right?”

We flew due west before circling south. Flying was different

in this small plane — the ground was closer. I leaned my head to

one side and watched the country sliding in and out of view

below — the gentle hills, the rivers, the towns, the great estates

like Amber House.

Then the tops of the trees got closer and Richard was talking

into his headset. “Thank you, tower.” I saw a hangar and a lot of

o183

pavement coming up fast. I gripped the arms of my seat and

closed my eyes.

The wheels hit pavement with a little shrieking sound,

bounced and hit again. We bobbled into a steady roll. I could

hear Richard flipping switches, then the motor whined as he

throttled back.

“You can breathe now, Parsons. We’re here.”

I opened my eyes and realized I had indeed been holding my

breath. I exhaled as quietly as I could. “Nice landing,” I offered.

He laughed. “Next time, you’ll have to try to keep your eyes

open.” He taxied into a hangar and shut the engines down.

“Now for the really dangerous part of the trip,” he said, grin-

ning. He gestured over his shoulder with his head. “John is

driving us into Richmond.”

I looked and saw a black man in a chauffeur’s cap standing

next to a gleaming Mercedes limousine.

Again that charming smile. He swept his arm out grandly,

and said, “
Après vous
.”

N

We went straight into the center of the capital — massive stone

buildings with columns and Grecian pediments, huge flights of