Amber House: Neverwas (37 page)

was it this time?

Maggie had awakened from her coma in this time. Maybe it

was both.

She was there when I got to the top — the real, grown

Maggie, sitting on the bench under the tree fort’s partial roof.

“I’m sorry,” I said, starting to back down again. “I didn’t know

you were up here.”

“Come,” she said, patting the space next to her.

So I hauled myself up onto the tree house and went over

to perch beside her. We sat silently, listening. Even with the

tree naked of leaves, the wind sighed through its branches.

240 O

Accumulating water dripped off the twigs above to fall in ran-

dom rhythm on the wood floor.
Voices
, I thought.
So many things
have voices we never listen to.
The sounds soothed me. It was a moment of peace.

Maggie finally spoke. “You remember it all yet?”

“The other time?” She nodded. I shook my head. “More and

more, but not all. Some of it — most of it, was better than this

time. But not
all
. No matter what, Maggie” — I took her hand in mine — “I’m glad I was able to wake you.”

She squeezed my fingers. “Me too.”

“Why aren’t you going to New York? You’re one of the women

of Amber House.”

She smiled, looked down, considered. Then she looked into

my eyes levelly. “You’re going to make this happen, sweetie.

You’re going to succeed. And I would rather spend every last

moment up till then here, at Amber House.”

I understood Maggie thought she might not still exist after

time changed again.

“Besides,” she went on, “you might need someone’s help when

you come back here. I want to be here for that.”

I nodded, unable to speak. Maggie would be here to help me

even if it meant she would be erased.

“I wanted to ask you, Sare — do you remember the other

person who was there in the attic?”

“Deirdre?”

“No, not the mama. The other person. He was there at the

end. Watching you.”

“What did he look like?”

“I don’t know. Where I was, I wasn’t seeing the outsides of

people.” I shook my head a little — that was beyond understand-

ing. “I was in dream time,” she explained. “I was seeing who I

understood people to be. Sammy was my twin brother and we

were the same. You were like a flame, Sarah, radiating light that

o241

darkness fled from, but your light was growing fainter all the

time. I felt bad, because I knew you were going to go out.”

I remembered thinking the same.

“And this other person — well, he was all soft golden light.

Steady, calm. I thought maybe he was an angel. A guardian

angel.”

“You thought he was your guardian angel?”

“Not mine, Sarah. Yours.”

Mine.

I realized then who it was, who it must have been. I could

even picture him there. He had followed me upstairs. He had

held my hand and kept me from slipping away.

Jackson, of course. He had stayed with me until the very end.

N

I wondered where he was. He’d promised to let me be there

when he tried going into the future again — to finish figuring

out how to steal the coin and, Lord help us, save the world. If he

wasn’t going to find me, I guessed I’d just have to find him. I

brought his image to mind and searched for his heat.

I sensed him in the vicinity of the stables. I smiled. That was

just like him — he was still doing his chores even though he

expected all of time to collapse. I supposed, when I found him,

he’d tell me, “The horses still have to eat.”

But when I opened the stable door, I saw him on his back on a

pile of hay on the floor, his limbs rigid from a seizure.

“Damn it!” I ran to crouch beside him. He was cold, his skin

ashy — there was no heat in the stable. I pulled a blanket he’d

shaken free of back over him. Then I lifted his head to cushion it

on my lap. “I’m here,” I whispered.

The tightness in the cords of his neck, the muscles of his face,

his arms, his spine, his legs, began to ease. I could see his eyes

242 O

moving rapidly beneath his closed lids. He was panting, and

there was a catch in his breath, as if he was terrified. I took his

hand in mine. “I’m here,” I said again.

The light changed. I had entered a vision, but it wasn’t mine.

A place of fog so thick I couldn’t look beyond. The wind was

blowing, whipping past in all directions, shrieking, pulling the

thoughts from my mind. I could see Jackson ahead of me, partly

solid, partly light, both parts blurred and spread by the wind.

He was following a path marked by a silver thread. He strained

forward, staring. Where he looked, the fog thinned. I thought I

could see something. Some
one
. Small. Dressed in white.
Amber
, I thought, but then told myself no, for she was of the past.

Jackson turned back and saw me. And smiled.

I heard him gasp and felt him stiffen. Then found myself sitting

on the stable’s stone floor in pale daylight. Jackson had opened

his eyes and was wiping away the blood seeping from his nose.

“You promised me,” I said.

“I don’t think I actually
promised
,” he said, “but I wish I had listened to you. You helped.”

Like he had helped me
, I thought. “Did you see what you needed to see?” He nodded. “You going to tell me?” I said.

He nodded again, but said, “Not yet. Soon.”

“You promise?” I said.

“I promise,” he said.

I shook my head. “You look terrible. You look like a little girl

could whup you. You need some hot food. We’ve got a ton of

leftovers for dinner. You want to join us?”

“Thanks,” he said, “but no. Going to have dinner with Gran.

I want to say good-bye to her.”

“Good-bye?” I repeated. It sounded so morbid. “It’s not like

you’ll never see her again.”

He smiled, shook his head a little, and pushed himself up to

sitting. “No matter what, Sare, I just can’t turn you into a true

o243

believer. If this works,” he said, “if we succeed at what we’re try-

ing to do, this Gran will be gone. I
won’t
ever see her again.

And . . . that’s probably a good thing, since she’s been suffering

a lot the last couple months, with more suffering ahead of her. In

the future I saw, she was a nurse. Too smart to smoke.”

I remembered. “She was a nurse last time too.”

“Anyway,” he said, “I want to be with her.”

I understood. We walked back in silence, parting at the

end of the east wing, he heading for the river and me for

the front door.

When I got to the steps, I put my hand on the railing. I

saw two children I remembered from another lifetime —

Sarah-Louise and her twin brother, Matthew. They were

young, plump-faced. It looked like a summer evening, full dusk.

The two of them had nets and canning jars — they were captur-

ing fireflies.

Nanga sat down between them. “We had many of those in my

homeland. Different colors, different patterns of glowing. My

brother and I also liked to catch them, though we had no glass to

put them in.”

“You miss that place?” Matthew asked.

“Yes. Oh, yes. Every day. That place. My home. My people.

My family. My husband. Every minute. When I reached this

land, I wished to die, but your mama wouldn’t let me.” She

paused to remember. “You know what she said to me when I

asked her why?”

“What did she say?” Matthew asked, listening intently.

“She was not much older than you. A little girl. Headstrong.

She said, ‘You touched my boot and spoke my name. So I knew

we were alike. The same kind. I knew you belonged here. I

knew Amber House needed you.’ ”

N

244 O

The phone was ringing when I went in. It was Richard.

“Dad called. They’re at the museum, working on the setup.”

“Oh, good,” I said.

“Shall I swing by around noon tomorrow?”

“ ‘Swing by’?”

“With the limo. Give you a lift to the station. Patrick’s driv-

ing me. I thought we could go in together.”

“Oh,” I said. “Thanks, but Maggie’s driving me in. She and

Sam want to wave good-bye.”

“They can ride with us too,” he said cheerfully. “Sam would

like the limo.”

“I bet he would. That’s so nice of you, but” — the fatal pause,

why couldn’t I
think
faster? — “I think Maggie said something about wanting to run some errands in town after. I’ll just meet

you on the train.”

“Oh,” he said. He sounded a little confused. “All right.” He

brightened his tone, excusing my lame lies. “Meet you there,

then. Good night.”

“Good night, Richard.”

I thought, as I returned the phone to its cradle, that Amber

House needed all of us. Deirdre and Nanga. Maeve and Fiona.

Gramma and my parents and Maggie and Sam. Even Richard,

somehow. We all belonged to this place because Amber House

needed us.

CH A P T ER TW E N T Y-SI X

K

Jackson came through the kitchen door at eleven thirty the next

morning. He crouched by the fire to warm himself after the

walk from his house. “Gran was still asleep when I left,” he

said. “I didn’t tell her I was going. I decided to leave that to the neighbor who is coming by to take care of her until — while

I’m gone.”

“Want something to eat?” I asked. “We’re just doing cereal,

but I could get you some oatmeal, help warm you up.”

He shook his head. “I’m good.”

I didn’t have much of an appetite either. We were a somber

group climbing into the car, all except Sammy, who was back to

being his usual cheery self. “Be happy,” he said. “New years are

coming!”

“Is,” I corrected automatically.

N

Thanks to my mom and dad, my only luggage was a light pack in

which I had the black silk purse, a book, some money, my moth-

er’s written directions as to where they would meet Richard and

me at the station, and a few other items. Jackson carried a sub-

stantial backpack full to bulging.

Maggie parked the car so she and Sam could walk into the

station with us. They stopped just inside the door. Sam hugged

Jackson around the waist while Maggie pulled me close. She said

softly into my ear, “See it through.”

246 O

Then Sam threw himself on my waist while Maggie shook

hands gravely with Jackson. “Cheer up, Sarah,” Sam told me.

“It’ll be good, you’ll see.”

We all waved good-bye as Jackson and I walked around the

benches to the farther door. Jackson reached to open it for me,

but a sheriff stepped forward to block it before I could go through.

“Sarah Parsons?” he asked.

“Yes?” I said.

“How old are you, honey?” he said in a drawl.

I was confused. “I’m sixteen, but my parents know I’m taking

this trip. I’m meeting them —”

He wasn’t listening to me anymore. He’d turned to Jackson.

“I’m afraid you’re gonna have to come with me, boy.”

“What?” Jackson said. I could see by his face that whatever he

had foreseen of this trip did not include his being arrested by the

local sheriff.

“We still have laws in this country prohibiting a colored boy

transporting an underaged white girl out of the country for illicit

purposes.”

“No!” I said, disbelieving. “We aren’t even traveling together.”

I tried to step between them.

“Missy?” the man said. “You want I should take you in too?”

“This is ridiculous,” I said. “I’m traveling with Senator

Hathaway’s son. Jackson is just my neighbor. We gave him a

ride.” My voice kept rising. I couldn’t stop it.

He grabbed my wrist then, and pulled me in close. I could see

the pits in his skin, the stains on his teeth. The tattoo beneath his jaw — a swastika. “I know who you’re traveling with, girl,” he

gritted out in a low voice, “and unless you want to cause the

senator a world of embarrassment, you better back off.”

I stepped back then, horrified, not knowing what to do. I

looked toward the entrance. Maggie was still there. She had

seen. She moved her mouth silently, shaping the words
Be ready
.

o247

Be ready?

She took Sam by the hand and pulled him out the door,

bending to speak to him as they went. The sheriff put cuffs

on Jackson and started to lead him out. I followed after help-

lessly. Jackson turned his head to speak to me over his shoulder.

“Get on the train, Sarah. I’ll get there, I swear. I don’t know

how, but I’ll get there.”

“He’s right about you getting on the train, sugar,” the sheriff

drawled. “I understand the senator is expecting you. But don’t

be looking for this boy to join you. He’ll be safe in my cell till

tomorrow evening.”

They’d reached the front curb and the sheriff’s car, with

everyone looking. He handled Jackson into the backseat, tossing

his backpack into the front. Then he climbed into the driv-

er’s seat.

Where is Maggie?
I wondered, looking about wildly.
What am I
supposed to do?

The sheriff’s car pulled away from the curb lazily, starting the

long circle through the lot to the exit.

I spotted Maggie then. She was standing near the front of my