The book of love, p.49
The Book of Love, page 49
It wasn’t exactly kosher to take the key the Lucklows kept under their fake rock and let herself into their house. But she’d done it in the past. And she wasn’t there to do anything bad. She was just there to yell at Daniel.
But when she opened his bedroom door, he wasn’t there. She didn’t feel like sneaking back out of the house or sleeping in her own bed and so she lay down on Daniel’s.
She fell asleep then and at some point Daniel came home. Now it was dawn and Daniel was sleeping beside her once more. She decided yelling at him could wait a little longer. Makeup sex didn’t always have to come second. Sometimes you could even skip the yelling and go straight to the sex, especially when the other person never even knew you’d been mad in the first place.
Daniel appeared surprised at first, as if he hadn’t realized until now that there was a girl in his bed. Then he was into it with a kind of enthusiasm that suggested he really liked surprises. Not that in the usual order of things Daniel lacked enthusiasm. It was surprises Daniel usually wasn’t keen on.
Afterward, Susannah couldn’t stop smiling. “We should fight more often,” she said.
Daniel gave her a sideways look. “Were we having a fight?” he said.
“Yes,” Susannah said. “But I forgot to tell you. Know what’s better than karaoke?”
“What?” Daniel said.
“Fighting,” Susannah said. “Also sex.”
“What would you have sung at the Cliff Hangar if we’d gone?” Daniel said. “If you were singing for me?”
Susannah said, “I would have picked Elton John. ‘Daniel.’ ”
“The obvious choice,” Daniel said. “So very obvious.” But he was smiling.
Susannah said, “But when it started I would have just started screaming. And kept on screaming.”
“So the usual,” Daniel said.
“Yeah,” Susannah said. “Why mess with a good thing? Want to come to What Hast Thou Ground? with me? I’ll make you a fancy coffee.”
“It’s Wednesday,” Daniel said. “Billy doesn’t open until noon on Wednesdays.”
He held up his hand, examining it. Susannah watched, bemused. He touched his nose, then his ears. Lifted up the sheet and appeared to be checking to make sure that his dick was still there, which of course it was.
“Any place is open if you’ve got the keys,” Susannah said. “I’ve got keys. Come on. Besides, Billy gets there early, and he’d love to see you.” This was true. Billy hated people, but he loved Daniel.
She checked her phone, saw Mo had texted her.
“What?” Daniel said.
“Mo,” she said. “Something’s up.”
“With Mo? What?” Daniel said. “Does he say?”
“Don’t know,” Susannah said. “Gonna go find out.”
“Tell him to come to the coffee shop,” Daniel said. “I’ll go with you.”
“You guys don’t even like each other,” Susannah objected, texting. She didn’t know if Daniel coming along was a good idea. “Unless you became friends in Ireland or something.”
“No,” Daniel said. “I don’t know. Hold up. I’m coming, too.”
“Maybe I should just go,” Susannah said. “You could come later. It’s just, Mo and I haven’t seen each other in a while.”
“I could walk you into town,” Daniel said. “Unless you’re sick of me.”
“Clingy,” Susannah said. “But okay.”
Lissy and Carousel were in the kitchen eating Pop-Tarts. They looked at Susannah, then at Daniel.
“Hey, guys,” Susannah said. “Just came over this morning to help Daniel out with something.”
“Help him out with what?” Lissy asked.
Susannah said, “Oh, you know. Just something. Something really cool.” She couldn’t think of anything, though. She waited for Daniel to help her out.
But Daniel was staring at his sisters. He looked as if he were suddenly sick to his stomach.
“You okay?” Susannah said.
“I’m fine,” he said. “You go. Tell Mo hey. I’ll see you later.”
“You sure?” Susannah said.
Daniel nodded.
“Someone made a mess in the kitchen last night,” Lissy said. “We cleaned it all up.”
“It wasn’t me,” Susannah said, because she really hadn’t. Then she wished she hadn’t said anything.
Lissy gave her a knowing look. Carousel just went on eating her Pop-Tart.
Susannah would have kissed Daniel goodbye before she left if they hadn’t had an audience. He really did not look good. Clearly whatever was going on with him was still going on. Eventually he would come clean, but that was not going to happen in front of his sisters.
She ducked into her house and put on more weather-appropriate clothes. There were black scuffs on one end of the white couch. She was probably going to get blamed for that as well when Ruth saw it. She got a Post-it note from the kitchen and wrote SUSANNAH DIDN’T DO THIS on it. Stuck it beside the scuffs.
When she checked her phone, Mo had texted back. He was on his way.
The Book of Laura
She woke up early with a sensation that something was about to happen. What exactly, she wasn’t sure. The discovery of Malo Mogge’s missing key. The answer to the mystery of how she’d died.
She had a song in her head. What was it? Halestorm, “I Miss the Misery.”
Her two new guitars were leaning against the wall by the closet. She took the Gretsch downstairs with her because that was pretty fucking cool. She had a Gretsch. Perhaps she’d magically shrink it and carry it around in her pocket all day. She made herself coffee in the French press with the busted top that she and Susannah had liberated from What Hast Thou Ground? and sat on the couch goofing around on the unplugged Gretsch while she drank it.
Here was a scuff mark made by a man who hadn’t existed. (Susannah’s Post-it note she read and then crumpled up.) Mo and Daniel must be trying to figure out the same thing. Who wasn’t real. And Laura didn’t even know what Daniel had given Mr. Anabin. She was pretty sure he and Susannah were still asleep in Susannah’s bed. When they came down, she’d get Daniel alone. Check in, find out what he’d given Mr. Anabin. See if he was finally using his magic.
She took out her phone. Thought about texting Rosamel, decided that this was a bad idea, then texted her anyway. What was the point of being able to do magic if all you did was do magic? You probably have plans. But if you want to come over I’ll make you pancakes. If you like pancakes.
Rosamel texted back, a thumbs-up. And then, Have you seen this? and a link.
Someone stirred upstairs, and Laura put away her phone. But it was only Ruth. “Oh no,” she said sadly when she saw the couch. “Look at that.”
Laura said, “It wasn’t me.”
“She swore when we got it that she’d treat it like a museum piece,” Ruth said.
“You don’t know that it was Susannah,” Laura said. How did the magic work, exactly? What had happened when she’d sent her father away? Would Ruth wonder where he’d gone? Think that he’d taken off again? Would she remember him at all?
“Who else would it be?” Ruth said. “Do I smell coffee?”
“Help yourself,” Laura said.
She sat at the table and Ruth poured coffee for herself and more for Laura and made them both scrambled eggs.
“That was fun, last night,” Ruth said.
“I guess,” Laura said. Did Ruth remember Malo Mogge? What she’d done? “I don’t know about the whole temple thing. Are you going to work today?”
“I think it’s nice,” Ruth said. “Much more interesting than another seafood restaurant. Or a Starbucks. And I already called in to the hospital and said I couldn’t come in this week. I thought maybe I could help look for this key Malo Mogge wants. She just wants it so much. I think she’d be really happy if we found it for her.”
“You bet,” Laura said. It was fascinating to see how easily Ruth accepted all of it. Creepy, but was it that different from the way things usually worked? It was like weather, or coming down with the flu, or obeying traffic laws. Malo Mogge and Mr. Anabin might have messed with Ruth’s life, but wasn’t Ruth still Ruth? She didn’t seem any different to Laura.
“When Susannah gets up, let’s go get a Christmas tree,” Ruth said.
“Or we could just make Daniel stand in the corner and decorate him,” Laura said.
“Are they back together again?” Ruth asked.
“He’s up there right now,” Laura said. “I think. How do you feel about that? Them?”
Ruth said, “Far be it from me to pass judgment on young love, but also I think you know it didn’t work out so well for me and your father.”
She was saying something else when there was a banging on the door. Later on, Laura tried to remember what it was, but right now Laura wasn’t paying attention to her mother. When she opened the door, Bowie pushed past her and into the kitchen.
He was holding his shoulder, blood seeping down all of his left side. “Hide me,” he said.
“What happened?” Ruth said in her nurse voice. “Was it a car? Did a car hit you?”
“Hide me,” Bowie said.
Ruth said, “I’ll call 911. No, we can’t get you to the hospital. And they won’t be able to get here. There’s an urgent care over on Strong Avenue. I’ll call them. Go sit at the table. Laura, get that coat off. Is that mine? Never mind. I’ll get some towels.”
Bowie staggered farther into the house. He sat down on the couch.
“Oh,” Laura said. “Oh no. You’ll get blood on it.”
He already had.
She grabbed dish towels and a throw blanket. Helped Bowie take the coat off, then his T-shirt. His arm near the shoulder was black and swollen, and blood trickled from a puncture just above his biceps.
“Where is he?” Laura said. “Does he know you’re here?”
“I lost them in the marsh,” Bowie said. His face was gray.
“There’s something in your arm. How did you do this?”
“I can’t get it out,” Bowie said.
Ruth came back with a mixing bowl. In it were various supplies. “Let me see,” she said. “Okay. That’s not great, but it isn’t that bad, either. Can you bend your arm? Is anything broken? I know you, don’t I? But I don’t know how.”
Bowie bent his elbow, let Ruth run her hands along his arm. She said, “There’s something in here. I should be able to get it out. It isn’t bad that it’s bleeding. That’s good. Will you let me?”
Bowie nodded. “Please,” he said. “Hurry.”
Ruth swabbed his arm with a sterile wipe. “It’s deep. Maybe even stuck in the bone. This will hurt,” she said. “Maybe a lot.”
Bowie gave her an incredulous look. “I know,” he said. He gripped Laura’s wrist with his other hand so tightly she could feel her own bones grind together.
“There,” Ruth said. “I’ve got it.” Then, “What is it?”
It looked, to Laura, like a fragment of bone. Too big to have come out of the puncture in Bowie’s arm. Was it his? Bowie let go of Laura’s wrist.
“First things first,” Ruth said. “Let’s bandage that.” Then, “It isn’t bleeding as much now.” She put the piece of bone in the mixing bowl. “Get some Advil, Laura.”
The door to the front porch opened again, and Bowie said, “Let me go!” though no one was holding him. Laura turned, expecting to see Thomas there, but instead it was Susannah and Mo.
“What’s happening?” Susannah said. “Bowie?”
Bowie rose to his feet, then fell back against Ruth, who steadied him.
“Where did you come from?” Laura said to Susannah. “What are you doing with Mo?”
“Hanging out,” Susannah said. “It’s a thing friends do sometimes. You’d understand if you had any.”
Ruth said, “I don’t understand. Look at this.”
Laura saw Bowie wasn’t going to need a bandage after all. The wound had stopped bleeding. Already the mark the projectile had left was disappearing as Bowie used his magic to heal himself. Laura could feel how much magic this cost, how much more it cost than it should have.
There was more noise outside on the porch, and Mo turned his head. “Get Bowie out of here quick,” he said, but it was too late. Thomas and Malo Mogge were in the kitchen.
Malo Mogge, dressed in pajamas and a pair of bright pink wings, held out her hand. The shard of bone Ruth had set down in the mixing bowl shot through the air to rest upon her palm.
“Well?” Malo Mogge said. She tossed the bloodied projectile and Thomas caught it. “Here is your enemy. Kill him and our bargain is accomplished.”
Thomas did not move. Malo Mogge said, “Do you hesitate? Then I will do it.” She raised her hand, flicked her finger as Ruth pushed Bowie behind her.
“Don’t!” Laura said.
Ruth’s mouth opened as if she were going to say something. Instead she fell onto the white couch and her head struck the soundboard of the Gretsch with a crack. Bowie was no longer behind her. A gray cat shot between Laura’s feet and through the open door.
Laura bent over Ruth. “Mom?” she said. “Susannah, help!”
No pulse. She kept her finger on Ruth’s warm wrist, felt nothing. Ruth was dead. Susannah wasn’t going to be able to help. Nevertheless Susannah began to do CPR and Laura let her while she tried to figure out how to fix this.
“There’s blood in her mouth,” Susannah said, pausing. She wiped her own mouth, then Ruth’s. There wasn’t much, but how horrible it was to see Ruth’s blood on Susannah’s chin.
When Laura looked, Malo Mogge and Thomas were no longer there.
“Do something,” she said to Mo, who still was.
“What do you want me to do?” he said. But then, “Okay, wait. Just, wait.” He left the house, and Laura held Ruth’s hand while Susannah breathed into Ruth’s mouth and did chest compressions and told Ruth everything was going to be okay. “Call 911,” she told Laura, and so Laura pulled out her phone and called. When she told the emergency services operator their address, the operator said, “Oh, honey, that’s in Lovesend,” and hung up.
Ruth’s left arm hung down at an awkward angle, her fingers splayed the wrong way against the floor. Laura picked up her hand again. Held it.
“I don’t think this is working,” Susannah said. “Should I keep doing it?”
“Keep doing it,” Laura said.
Time passed and Mo came back into the kitchen. But he hadn’t brought help. He’d only brought Daniel.
The Book of Mo
Mo got to the coffee shop before Susannah. She lived a lot closer to town, but Mo could turn into a bird. He’d never managed to go to sleep. Instead he stayed up in the music studio writing in a notebook, and when Susannah texted back, he slipped a new notebook and a pen into the pocket of his hoodie (this was an experiment, after all, and he didn’t want to lose what he’d been working on the way he’d lost the Timberlands). It was the kind of cold outside that made your bones ache. He put on his duffle coat and a wool cap. Then he turned himself into a Eurasian eagle owl (go big or go home) and flapped majestically down the Cliff Road, detouring over the bay where Malo Mogge’s temple steamed gently. Fish floated belly-up in the water around it, but the eagle owl did not find these tempting.
Mo had wondered if he’d have some sort of psychic connection to the statues he’d given life to, but apparently it didn’t work that way. Wherever they were now, he had no idea. They were off doing their own thing, and he was alone again. Shut up, Mo. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Just enjoy being a very large owl.
He flew a slow circle over the roof of What Hast Thou Ground? and landed on a dumpster in the alley. When he changed back, he was pleased to discover pen and notebook still in his pocket. He had an idea about the process he might use to determine the structure of the overture and so he stood in the doorway and wrote until Susannah showed up.
“Mo,” she said.
He said, “Hey, Susannah. Uh, thanks for coming.”
At this, she threw her arms around him and hugged him so violently he staggered back. She didn’t let go, and honestly it felt kind of good to have someone hold on to him like that, like they were afraid he was going to get away.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m so sorry. About everything. Mo, it sucks so much. She was always so nice, and I always thought you were so lucky to have a grandmother like that.”
Mo’s eyelids were already swollen from crying. He blinked furiously. He said, “She wasn’t just my grandmother. She was the only one I had. How is that lucky? Although, yeah. I was lucky. But now? I don’t have anyone.”
Susannah nodded. Sniffed. They let go of each other. She pulled a key chain out of her coat pocket and opened the door of What Hast Thou Ground? “Come on inside. I’ll make you whatever you want.”
“Coffee,” Mo said. “I want lots and lots of coffee. And a muffin.”
“Sure,” Susannah said, going behind the counter. “Looks like we’ve got lemon thyme and bourbon pecan. Oh, and chocolate lavender.”
“Let’s start with bourbon pecan,” Mo said.
Susannah turned on the sound system and the soundtrack to Camelot came on. “Shit,” she said. “Billy is such an asshole.”
“No,” Mo said. “Leave it. It’s fine. I’ve always wondered what the simple folk do.” He sat at the table in the window where he and Susannah had always sat. He put the notebook down. It was almost exactly like old times except he had to keep wiping tears off his face. Susannah brought him a muffin, coffee in a French press, and a napkin. He blew his nose on it and began to devour the muffin.
“So tell me what’s going on,” Susannah said.
“You mean besides my grandmother being dead,” Mo said. He couldn’t help it. “No, I mean there’s other stuff, too. But it’s complicated. So complicated I don’t even know where to start. Can I have another muffin?”
