Seed (25 page)

“We don’t know that,” I tell her. I want to share her excitement, and I don’t know why I can’t.

“You will be,” she says, her young arms stretching up to the ceiling.

To be Papa S.’s Companion. It’s what we all dream of.

I reach for my dressing gown and put it on and slip my feet into my slippers. It seems wrong that I’m going into Papa S.’s chambers, yet I am only in my nightdress. I wish I could wear one of my skirts. My silk one, or the purple one that Rachel gave me.

I look at Kate as she pulls her nightdress over her head.

“Where do I go?” I ask. “Kate?”

“Go through the closed door at the end of the corridor,” she answers. But she’s avoiding my eyes.

“Really?” I want to reach out to her. Have her tell me that I’ll be all right.

“You’ll find the way from there.” She looks at me for just a second, before she goes to the basin in the corner and picks up her toothbrush. So I walk out of the room without saying another word.

Jack is coming up the top of the stairs, just as I go down the corridor. He must have been working with the horses, as even from here I can smell them on him. He bounds up the last two stairs to get to me.

“Where are you off to?” he asks.

I feel suddenly awkward. “I’m going to see Papa S.” I say the words slowly.

“What, now?” Jack looks confused.

“Yes.” I look into his face and I see understanding creep into his eyes.

“Oh,” he says. I nod at him and then I walk on, because I know how big this moment is, that I am about to become a Companion for the very first time and I don’t want Jack to see the confusion in my eyes.

No one is in the corridor. The soft noises from the other rooms get left behind. I reach out to touch the wood-paneled wall. My fingers feel its smoothness and for a few seconds I close my eyes, so there’s nothing else, just me and its ancient secrets. I breathe in the air that Papa S. must breathe as he walks down here every day.

Opening my eyes, the door is almost in front of me. The door that I have never been through. It’s made of a wood so dark that it’s almost black. Its handle is a carving of a lotus flower, painted and varnished so that it shines. I reach out and touch it, turn it, and slowly push it open.

The door makes no sound. No one would even know that I’ve walked through it as I close it behind me.

I’m in another short corridor. There is a small, round window
that must look out over the fields, but all I see is black. I’m cold, so I pull my dressing gown tighter over me as I go to the door at the end.

I stand and wait. What shall I say to him? How shall I be? How will I become his Companion? Suddenly I feel an overwhelming fear and my feet are moving backward, but the door swings open. And Papa S. is standing here.

“Pearl,” he says, in that voice I love. And I no longer understand anything, because he is Papa S. and surely he is everything? I go into his arms as he wraps them around me. And I try to feel safe. “Let’s look at you,” he says, stepping back. His skin looks older in this light, where the sun has touched it and turned it to wrinkles.

He has changed from his day clothes. Now he’s wearing a long cloak that reaches to the floor. It is made of shimmering gold and I just stop myself from reaching out to touch it. His long, gray hair flows around his shoulders and it makes me think of a waterfall in the moonlight.

“Come in,” he says, and he takes my hand. I am holding the hand of Papa S. Am I now his Companion? Was this really what I had been frightened of? I want to laugh with relief.

I pause just inside the room, because it’s like nothing I have ever seen. The walls are covered with tapestries of sunsets and birds and flowers. I remember the long winter hours spent
watching the women of the house with their colorful threads. I have sat, cross-legged, with a tapestry of my own, jabbing the needle through the holes, pricking my skin, but never enough to draw blood.

“Here,” Papa S. says. He’s still holding my hand as he leads me over to the corner. I recognize it instantly. The small tapestry I did of a robin a few years ago. I giggle as I remember my frustration at getting the lines of the beak straight. How worried I’d been that I might run out of the right red for his chest. At the bottom, my name is sewn in black thread.

Papa S. smiles. “It is very good.”

There is carpet on the floor in here. It’s not like the carpet in the sitting room, which is almost worn through to the wooden boards. Here, it is deep and soft. Papa S. sees me looking.

“It is the color of pearls,” he says. “Why don’t you take off your slippers, feel it on your feet?”

I look up at him and he nods, so I do as he says. It feels like I’m walking on clouds.

I gaze over at the heavy curtains that reach to the ground, closed tight against the dark outside. And in the middle of the room, there is the biggest bed I have ever seen. It has posts rising up from each of its corners and material sweeping down all around it.

“It’s so peaceful in here, isn’t it?” Papa S. asks.

“Yes,” I say, my voice sounding like a child.

“Let us lie down,” he says. And still holding his hand, I follow him to the bed.

We do not go under the covers. We lie, side by side, my hand in his. My heart is beating so loudly that I wonder if Papa S. can hear it. Finally, I am in his chamber. Finally, I see what it looks like. I am alone with Papa S. I might even be his Companion.

I feel Papa S. squeeze my hand. It doesn’t feel like Elizabeth’s, or Jack’s, or Kate’s. His hand feels bigger and bony. I hear his breathing next to me. I dare not look at him, so instead I look up at the purple velvet above my head. But why do I not feel happy? Why does this not feel right? The doubts that had been whispering to me are now scratching to be heard.

“Do you like it?” Papa S. eventually asks. His voice helps me remember how I feel about him. Reminds me that I am in the chamber of the most important person in my world.

“Very much,” I say, and I look at him and he smiles at me and I feel good that I have said the right thing, that I have pleased him.

“My cloak is made of satin,” he says.

“It looks like golden water,” I reply.

“Do you want to touch it?” His eyes look into mine. But for some reason, now I don’t want to. “Come,” Papa S. says and he gently pulls my hand onto the cloak. He moves my fingers to
stroke the material. He’s right. I have never felt anything so soft. But underneath, I can feel the top of his leg and I don’t want to be touching it.

I manage to pull my hand back. He looks at me and I’m scared that I have offended him.

“I’ve never felt anything so beautiful,” I say and smile at him, and he smiles back.

I am in Papa S.’s bed. What would Kate say if she saw me now? She must have been here. Did it unsettle her? Did she want to run away? I breathe in, trying to find her smell under the layers of air, but there is nothing.

“Let me tell you something, Pearl,” Papa S. says quietly. “Nature is such a powerful force. Sometimes she does things that we just don’t understand. But she controls us all. Our days, our nights, the food we eat, the water we drink.” He pauses, licks his lips slightly as if they are dry. “We must listen to Nature. Sometimes we must do things that we are unsure of. But they are always what Nature wants, they are always good.” He looks at me and there’s something in his eyes that makes me think I have displeased him. “Do you understand, Pearl?”

I nod, although I don’t know what he means.

“Good.” Then he unlocks his hand from mine, turns away from me and clicks off the light.

We are in darkness. Total darkness.

I lie here, but Papa S. does not say anything else. Am I to sleep like this?

In my memory, I see the coffin cracking open, the flames slipping through. Winding around the face, melting the skin.

I feel the walls closing in on me. The darkness is suffocating. I want to run away, but I cannot move, cannot breathe.

Papa S. touches my arm.

And I hate it.

“Who was in the coffin?” I ask, my voice a stranger in his bedroom. He pulls his arm back. “Who was it in the bonfire?”

I’m sitting up now, searching the dark for his face. But I can’t see him. I can only hear him. A low, animal-like growl.

“Pearl,” he says, his voice raw. “The poison has reached you. I must cleanse you.”

He’s moving toward me. The mattress creaks, his cloak rustles.

I jump from the bed, run blindly to where I hope the door is.

“Pearl!” His voice is strong and it tries to pull me back, but I will not go. My arms are outstretched in front of me. I can feel the wall, the rough texture of a tapestry. I move along until it is only wood under my fingers, so it must be the door. My hands go down and I feel the handle. Its lotus shape is jagged in my palm.

I hear Papa S. coming toward me. His hand is on my
shoulder. His fingers digging deep into my skin. “You will be punished,” he whispers.

I turn the handle. And I go from him.

I am outside his chamber. I am free. The floor is cold and hard underneath my feet as I run. My slippers are back in his room, next to the bed of Papa S. But I can’t go back there. I won’t ever go back there.

I’m through the second door, scared of something I don’t understand. The corridor is so quiet now. All of the lights have been turned out. There is no noise, so everyone must be sleeping. My bare feet sound sticky on the floor.

There’s a figure standing near my room. I walk toward it, and as I get closer I can see that it’s Heather.

“Are you all right, Pearl?” she asks.

I nod my head. I don’t want her to ask any more. Heather reaches out to hug me. I thought she might be jealous that I’ve just been with Papa S., but there is something strange about her, something sad.

“Go to sleep now,” she says. “It is a new day tomorrow.” She turns from me and goes back to her room. I walk the few steps more to mine and gently push open the door. I can hear the sound of sleeping. I feel my way to my bed, lift the blanket up and climb underneath it. There is a shock of cold. I hope it will numb my thoughts.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

E
llis is standing in the kitchen. He has been gone for ten days, but now he’s back. I should stop myself, but I don’t—I run to him and he puts one arm around me. His other, thick with a bandage, stays by his side.

“We missed you,” I say. I pull back from him and we smile at each other. Now I can forget everything else. Ellis is here. He has come home.

“I missed you too,” he says.

Kate comes in. She stops in the doorway and looks at him. “Hey, you,” she says, her smile in her eyes. Envy sits in my stomach, but I won’t let it stay. She walks up to him and I watch as she kisses his cheek.

I want to step between them, remind them I am here.

“So the hospital did heal you,” Kate says.

“Of course,” Ellis replies. And it’s true. He is here, alive. Nothing bad seems to have happened to him there.

“Now, I need to get a drink for Elizabeth,” Kate says and she turns away, opens the fridge door and gets out a bottle of milk.

“How is she?” Ellis asks.

“Not so good,” Kate says quietly.

“Did they hurt you?” I ask.

Ellis half laughs. “No. The food was rubbish, though.”

“Your hand?” I ask. Kate stops moving, then I hear the milk as she pours it into a glass. Ellis shrugs his shoulders, but they are stiff and his jaw is hard.

“I’m sorry,” I say.

“Yeah,” he replies.

“How did it happen?” I ask. “Were you too close to the machine?” He starts to shake his head, but suddenly the door opens and Linda rushes in. She is drying her hands on her apron.

“I wanted to come and see you,” she says, almost to herself. And then she hugs him so tight.

“I’m OK, Mom,” Ellis says awkwardly. He’s not even smiling.

She reaches up and puts her palm softly on his cheek. “You came back,” she whispers. Ellis doesn’t say anything. “You belong here.” And I see Linda smile for the first time in days. Then she’s laughing, but as she hugs Ellis again, he keeps his arms by his sides.