Sunrays among shadows, p.23
Sunrays Among Shadows, page 23
I couldn’t see his face in the dim light, but I could hear the smile in his voice when he responded. “Thanks, kid. Get some rest.”
He extinguished the lantern and left the room.
Jasper
I woke to a sweet smell, and when I rolled over, I found myself staring into a steaming mug, the hot air moistening my skin. I blinked, tipping my head back until I could see Quade’s face towering above me.
“Drink this,” he said.
Stiffly, I sat up, bending over my knees to stretch and crack my back, though my bruised ribs ached in protest. Then I took the beverage in my good hand. I cleared my throat, but my voice rasped. “What is it?” Sniffing first, I sipped it.
“Tea with some medicine and honey.”
I nodded. “Thanks.”
Quade poured himself a cup from a teapot and settled into the chair in front of me, propping his legs up beside me on the cot. “How’d you sleep?”
I swallowed another gulp, the liquid warming my throat all the way down into my stomach. “Well, actually. Probably the best sleep I’ve had in a month.”
“You certainly slept a while. The rest of the day and through the night.”
My face fell. “It’s morning again?” I grabbed the curtain and yanked it up, releasing it again the instant I was blinded by Flaxen Sunlight. “Damn … Lost a whole day.”
Quade stared disapprovingly at the hand I’d used, but he didn’t need to scold me. The sharp pain I now felt was punishment enough.
He asked, “How d’you feel?”
Sheepishly, I lowered my bandaged arm, raising the mug to my lips with the other. “Oh, I feel awful but not as awful as I did yesterday.”
“Was it Lenore?”
I coughed and nearly dropped the cup, but when I lifted my head, Quade wasn’t looking at me. He faced the wall, dispassionately sipping his tea. I didn’t even open my mouth because I didn’t know what to say, but he spoke before I could.
“You don’t have to answer. Like I said before, it’s your business.”
The voice I managed was quiet. “Then why did you ask?”
Quade took a drink, held it in his mouth for a moment in silent contemplation, and then swallowed, delaying his response long enough to make me squirm in my seat. “Because you cried out in your sleep.”
I watched his throat contract as he took another swig.
I asked, fearing the answer, “What did I say?”
Quade exhaled through his nose, placing his cup on the table beside him. “Only two words: ‘Mum’ and ‘no.’ You sleep very uneasily, by the way; I’m surprised you feel rested at all.”
My eyes found the floor.
He wiped a hand down his face, pausing at his mouth to yawn against it. “It’s always her, isn’t it?”
I wasn’t prepared to answer—to be confronted at all. All this time, I believed that we’d silently agreed to never acknowledge it. I struggled for words, but he stopped me.
“Don’t answer. If you want it to stay a secret, don’t answer. I don’t need something to report to your brothers. If you don’t say anything, then I won’t feel obligated to tell them when they ask about you.”
I closed my mouth and nodded, but I could feel Quade’s eyes on me. I passed the empty mug back and forth in my hands.
Then we can both go on pretending you don’t already know.
“Noah suspects something,” he said, “and if Noah does, then Seth does, too. They’ve long expressed their concern about the amount of time you spend with her, but lately …”
I inhaled. “I try my best to avoid the topic with them. I’ll try harder.”
Quade tutted.
Sighing, I glanced down at my splinted wrist and wiggled my fingers. “I’m sorry to burden you. I’ll leave soon. I just needed some sleep somewhere safe.”
He leaned over, reaching across the table for his pipe. A touch of acidity bled into his voice. “I suppose home isn’t very safe for you, is it?”
“It’s dismaying how observant you are,” I replied flatly, watching him pack tobacco.
“It’s not a difficult leap. I ask if you want to go home, but you say you’ve just come from home with these injuries.” For a moment, his hands stopped moving, and he seemed to be holding his breath. When he exhaled, his voice lowered. “And it’s not as though this is the first time I’m seeing you under these circumstances.”
I forced a chuckle, trying to lighten the mood, to chase away the darkness that seemed to overtake his face. “You’re right. I wonder, how many times does this make?”
“How many times you’ve miscalculated?”
“It wasn’t bad this time, really.” But I couldn’t even finish the sentence before guiltily curling in on myself. How laughable it was to try to pretend when he’d already seen my injuries, though I still didn’t want to admit their severity. “This time, it was just a small … misstep.”
Quade grunted. “I don’t doubt that it was. It seems you were amply punished for your misstep.” He eyed me. “But again, none of my business. I’m but a lowly surgeon, and you’re just a young and reckless boy in need of medical attention.” He fingered the pipe but didn’t light it.
“Look at that, we complete each other. Face it, I’m great for business.”
“Young and reckless and apparently unable to grasp just how far you’re pushing it.”
“Well, that’s why I show up injured and exhausted, so my favourite physician can fix me and send me on my merry way again.”
“And because you can’t sleep at home without one eye open.”
He refused to respond to my attempted humour, and I felt the smile on my face disintegrating.
He continued, narrowed eyes fixed on my face: “So instead, you come here where you feel protected and safe, knowing that no one will appear to drag you out of bed and throw you down the stairs.” He flicked his brows, though his expression remained severe. “But what do I know?”
I gulped and dropped my gaze. “Right,” I muttered. “What do you know?” I could feel my fingers beginning to shake, so carefully, I put the mug on the table. I cleared my throat to distract him from it. “I should get on to Earth.”
He stopped me when I started push the blankets off my legs. “Why?”
“I’ve a friend there I’d like to visit.”
“You spend a lot of time there?”
“Lately,” I said, then quietly added, “It’s one of the few places my mother won’t go.”
He observed me, scratched the back of his head, and sighed. “You always have a safe place here, Gabriel. You know that, right?”
I fingered the edge of the quilts, noticing now that there were two. He’d put another one on me while I slept. I smiled at them—at this little act of care. “Why d’you think I’m here?”
“Good.” He patted my shoulder. “Don’t leave yet. Stay and rest a few days. Doctor’s orders. I’ll get you more tea.” Before I could speak even a word of protest, he stood, grabbing my cup on his way.
I watched him fill both mugs, abandoning my resistance because I knew I wasn’t in any shape to decline his offer. “Did you already send a message to my brothers?”
He pretended not to hear. Silently, he measured a white powder, which, together with a spoonful of honey, he stirred into my cup.
Rolling my eyes, I teased, “You just wanna see Seth.”
Quade shoved my drink at me. “I don’t play favourites.”
“Sure you don’t.” I smiled, inhaling the sweet aroma as the steam warmed my face. “Seems we’re both more transparent than we realise.”
He picked up the pipe again, busying himself, and I stared into my cup, the liquid still rocking gently within, the powder that hadn’t yet dissolved swirling around the bottom.
“Thanks, Quade. I mean it. You’re a good friend.”
He lifted the pouch of tobacco. “So are you.”
I snorted. “A good assistant maybe. They’re just dried leaves.”
“They are. Just leaves that I casually mentioned I was running low on—not even to you—a month ago, and you overheard and took it upon yourself to collect them for me from another world.” He grinned, and I peered down into my cup again, strangely embarrassed.
“It’s not like it was difficult,” I mumbled.
“You’re a good person, Gabriel. You can’t convince me otherwise.” He held up the pipe. “I’m gonna smoke. Drink that, and when I’m back, we’ll have breakfast.”
I watched him step through the doorway. For a second, I forced the smile on my lips to stay. Maybe I could pretend his words hadn’t stung me—that the earnestness with which he’d said them hadn’t made me feel like an imposter. Maybe I could wear this mask a little longer.
“A good person, huh?” I sighed. “What d’you know, Quade?”
Part Ten
EXPECTATIONS
Liam
We passed the window, and Lily nearly tripped to a stop. It had become a habit of hers to peer out at the garden after our morning lesson. I suspected she searched for Mr. Behrtram. It had been more than a week since he’d come to collect her, but I could see on her face that he’d appeared again at last.
I paused myself and asked, “Something wrong?”
She swung around, shaking her head, but any attempt to keep the excitement from her face was useless. No amount of darkness could overwhelm the light that bloomed in the girl’s soft green eyes.
“Everything’s fine,” she said unconvincingly as she hurried past me. “I’ll be late for lunch. Don’t wait up!”
I giggled, returning to the window. There he sat beside the white fence, hugging his knees, his forehead resting on top of them: the gallant Mr. Behrtram. He lifted his head when Lily approached, and as I watched the smile build on his lips, I felt the one on mine slacken.
It wasn’t that I was unhappy; his expression simply took me by surprise. I didn’t know how to react because it held a sentiment I’d never seen so plainly. Maybe it was the way the sun shone on his face or the sleepy daze in his eyes, but staring up at her, he seemed so much at ease. And it was more than that even. He was in awe of her, his smile growing the longer his eyes lingered on her face—as though some beautiful, ethereal being stood before him instead of my unruly sister.
She ushered him up off the ground, and although I couldn’t hear the words they exchanged, I could see his chest hiccough with laughter. The moment he’d gained his feet, she threw herself forward into his arms.
My eyes widened.
I hadn’t expected such a bold gesture, though I knew how badly she’d missed him while he’d been away; she hadn’t tried very hard to hide it. He, too, appeared momentarily caught off guard, but then he held her back, his arms looping around her waist, his face disappearing in the hair that fell around her neck.
For a single minute, the world around them seemed to fall away. I wasn’t sure even a leaf moved in the breeze—as if the sky itself held its breath. There were only the two of them standing there on the grass beside the garden, embracing, their figures swathed in the light of the midday sun.
I watched them, holding my own breath so it wouldn’t fog the window.
Mr. Behrtram was the first to pull away. He gently, albeit a little reluctantly, extricated himself from her grasp, though he held onto one of her hands. Then he nodded toward the woods, and together, they disappeared into the trees.
I exhaled at last and let the scene blur behind the clouded glass, but I stared after them for a while. The image of their sunlit silhouettes was still fresh in my mind—the picture of something so naively intimate that I decided right then to pretend I’d never seen it, even though I knew I wouldn’t forget it for a long time.
Lily
Jasper and I lounged in the shade of the oak tree for the third day this week, and although I hadn’t realised it, he pointed out that I’d been sighing since we’d arrived. He asked, “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, it’s just—” I forced a chuckle. “I—I dunno. I dunno what’s wrong with me.”
Jasper rolled his eyes. “Of course you do. It’s okay if you don’t wanna tell me, but you don’t have to pretend you’re fine when you’re clearly not.”
I focused on the freckles on his lips because I didn’t want to meet his gaze.
You’re sad, Lily. You’re grieving. He’s your friend; you can tell him that.
Instead, I glanced down at my hands. “Just having a bit of a day, that’s all.”
“Did something happen?”
I swallowed.
My father is dead. He killed himself.
“I-I just—” I cleared my throat, trying not to steer too far from the truth. “I just miss my father today. He was supposed to stay for a while this time, but he left without telling us.”
He left forever.
Jasper studied me, and then, as if he’d read my thoughts, he asked, “Did he die?”
I froze.
It was different hearing someone else say it.
My heartbeat raced. I opened my mouth. Closed it. Then the rejection of his question left my lips before I knew it. “No, no,” I said, waving the inquiry away. “He left, like I said. I’m just feeling a tad resentful that he didn’t tell me he was leaving.” I surprised myself with how easily the lie left my lips and how believable my voice sounded despite the hiccough. “He left on business; he does that—travels a lot.”
Why are you lying to him, Lily?
Hesitantly, Jasper smiled. “A traveler, huh? D’you wish you could go with him?”
“Very much. I’ve always wanted to. Adventure, meet new people … He was—is good at that. Liam, too.”
You’re rambling, Lily. Calm down.
But Jasper didn’t seem to think much of it, or at least, he pretended not to. He asked, “Good at what?”
“At meeting new people. I’m not so good at it.”
“Why d’you say that?”
“My father, he could strike up a conversation with anyone. He just—he starts talking and makes friends anywhere he goes. Me, I can’t do that.”
“Well, you met me.”
I shoved his arm. “That’s not the same.”
“You approached me first.”
“You put yourself in my way,” I countered.
“Maybe.” He looked away shyly, and a question came to mind that I hadn’t considered before.
“Jasper,” I said, “did you want me to find you? In the garden, I mean. Did you want it to be me and not someone else?”
He stared down at his hands, then lifted one to anxiously tug his earlobe. “Yes,” he admitted. “I did. I wanted to know you. I didn’t feel like our first meeting really counted for much, y’know?”
His confession made my heart flutter. “No, you’re right.” I scratched my neck, suddenly feeling bashful. “I-I really am sorry, by the way, for being so rude to you at first. You were injured even, and I—”
“We were both a little abrasive.”
“No, it was me. I should’ve realised. I told you, I don’t know how to meet people. You were different, and I panicked.” I exhaled heavily, turning toward him. “Forgive me?”
Jasper answered with a crooked smirk. “Only if you forgive me, too.”
I had the sudden urge to touch him—to confirm the closeness and understanding I felt. We’d embraced each other before, so I didn’t think he’d oppose the idea. But when I placed my hand lightly on his arm, he winced. I jerked back and sat upright.
“Sorry, I didn’t—a-are you okay?”
He peered down at his wrist, looking startled himself.
“Yes, yeah, I’m fine. Sorry.” He gave it a little shake to show how fine it was, but I saw his jaw tighten with the effort. “I fell the other day and tried to catch myself. Must’ve bruised it or something.”
“Do you want me to get a bandage or—”
“No, no.” He chuckled, but it didn’t sound genuine. “It’ll be fine, honest. I can handle this much. I’m durable.”
I wasn’t convinced. The way he pulled back … It must have really hurt, but I could tell he hadn’t wanted me to notice. He’d already pulled his sleeve down over his hand as if to hide it.
I bit my lip, trying to resist, but I couldn’t help asking, “Are you sure? It could be a sprain. How did you fall?”
He lifted his shoulders in a half-hearted shrug, avoiding my gaze. “I injure myself all the time. You really don’t have to worry about me. I’m clumsy.”
I turned away, and although I believed my worry valid, I accepted his weak explanation. It was clear I’d already exhausted the subject, and his face told me he was far more uncomfortable than I was. I tried to dispel it a bit. “As if I’d worry. Don’t go getting cocky.”
Jasper took my cue and responded with a changed expression. He seemed relieved. “Y’know, my father always jokes about my clumsiness. He’s blind and is still more sure-footed than I am.”
I raised my head, shocked to hear him talk about his family without any prompting. “Your father is blind?”
He nodded. “Since birth.”
“What’s he like, your father?” I asked quickly, not wanting to waste the opportunity to learn more about him. “I’m trying to imagine how your parents must be, and I just can’t.”
At first a little surprised by my interest, Jasper smiled, his expression mellowing. “He’s stern but fond of humour when he’s in the mood for it. To be honest, though, I don’t know him very well.”
I arched a brow.
He explained, “I never spent much time with my parents. They were always busy.”
“What about your mother?” I couldn’t help my curiosity. We’d spent so much time together, and I still knew so little about him.
He swallowed, glancing down at his arm again, absently rubbing it with the other hand. “She’s …” His voice trailed off. I assumed his injury distracted him, though I didn’t want to draw attention back to it.
“She’s what?”
He cleared his throat. “She’s fine. The way we grew up—my brothers and I—we lived separately from them mostly, so they’ve always just been these distant figures. We did a lot of caring for ourselves.” Timidly, he curled in on himself. “I guess that’s why I am the way I am.”
