A Matter of Heart (33 page)

“Is there something I can help
you with, Councilwoman Lilywhite?”

I smile up at Fraank
Mountainhold, the lead Librarian in Karnach even though my stomach is in
painful knots. “Yes, please. I was wondering . . .” If you know if I killed
nons. “Is there a way I can read the completed dossiers on the missions I’ve
been on?”

As he’s polishing his thick
glasses on his worn flannel shirt, he squints at me, no doubt assessing whether
I’m insane for wanting to sludge through reams of paperwork that I should’ve
delighted in never seeing again. So I add lamely, “I just need to verify a few
things for my own records.”

He slips the glasses back
on. “Well, of course you may look at them. It’ll take a couple of days to
process the transfer from Guard HQ to here, though. Are you wanting specific
missions or the entire roster?”

I quickly scribble down the
one Jen indicated. Mountainhold takes the request, letting me know he’ll send
the file to my office when they’re in.

As I leave to head over to
my parents’, I can’t help but wonder if I’m doing the right thing. Was Karl
correct, so long ago? Is it better knowing if I’m the true cause of death? Or
is ignorance better? Saner? Caleb says I should let it go, that Belladonna was
probably lying in an effort to get under my skin. But me . . .

I’m
tired of being in the dark, even if being in the light means facing hard, cold
realities.

My parents’ apartment is
like a museum.

Not that it was ever warm
and friendly in the first place, and not that I’d ever been to it more than a
handful of times anyways, but at this moment, right now, I feel like I’m in a
museum. Everything is cold, perfectly positioned, and untouchable.

I follow my mother to her
greenhouse, which is actually a wide deck my parents retrofitted to accommodate
her craft. Plants are everywhere, from floor to ceiling. “You look thin,” is
her greeting.

Stress will do that to you,
I want to say. The thought of eating churns my stomach. “How have you been
lately?”

“Working lots, especially
now that you’re gone from home.” She moves over to her workbench to deadhead a
waiting plant.

Like you didn’t work a lot
even when I was at home, I can’t help but think. “How’s Dad?”

Withered flowers litter the
bench as she deftly snips away. “The same as he always is.” She sighs. “Chloe,
your father has been quite upset over everything going on. It’s why I’ve called
you over today.”

My father has said, at the
most, ten words to me over the last couple of months, and most of those were
towards ambivalent greetings. “You mean when I was in the hospital at the
beginning of the year?”

She’s not looking at me,
which is weird. My mother has always had the ability to cut me down with a
single, sharp look. But right now, her eyes are glued on the potted Dwarven
orchid in front of her. “That and the whole Belladonna mess.”

“He’s gone now, Mom.”

“I know, and I am glad for
it.” A wipe across her brow leaves a streak of soil, which reminds me of all
the afternoons I spent with her at her nursery in California when I was little.
Back when I wished I was a Nymph, too, so we’d have something in common. “But,
your father is not so pleased about this turn of events.”

Excuse me? “Jens Belladonna
accused me of murder!”

“I am well aware of the
charges, Chloe.” She shoves the orchid to one side and lifts a fern off the
ground to take its place. “Did you know your father and Belladonna are
friends?”

No, no I most CERTAINLY DID
NOT.

“They met as children and
have maintained a relationship over the years.” She pauses. “Your father is
furious with Jonah for banishing Jens. And with you for letting it happen.”

I can’t even begin to wrap
my mind around this. “He accused me of
murdering people
!”

Now she looks at me. She’s .
. . sad, which is not an emotion I’ve ever seen coming from my mother before.
Not even when her parents died. “I know. But your father believes that Jens
shouldn’t have lost his job, let alone be banished from Annar, for what he
deems a simple misunderstanding.”

Invisible hands strangle my
neck. “A
misunderstanding
? Doesn’t he care that some guy has been
stalking me for weeks, accusing me of things that aren’t true?”

Her eyes refocus on the
fern. “Your father isn’t always the easiest of people to live with, let alone
understand. I tried talking to him about it, but he is resolute. He wants you
to get Jonah to rescind the order, or do it yourself.”

I wish there was a chair in
here, so I could sit down. I don’t trust my legs to keep me upright. “Mom, tell
me you are kidding.”

She closes her eyes briefly
before resuming her snipping. Bits of fern float down around us. “Your father
has instructed me to let you know that there will be no further contact between
any of us until this situation is remedied.”

The only sounds in the
greenhouse are that of the fan whirring above us and of metal meeting plant
flesh. It might as well be my skin she’s trimming, because—as strained as
things have always been between us, as distant as we might be—she’s still my
mother. And I cannot believe she just said what she did.

“I didn’t kill those Guard,”
I whisper. Why oh why can no one find them? It’s been five months without a
single lead.

“I never believed you did.
And, for what it’s worth, your father doesn’t, either.”

I want to cry, but find I
can’t, which is so strange, because my chest burns so much right now it’s a
wonder I can even speak. “Bringing Jens back would be the same thing as
admitting to it.”

My mother finally sets down
her shears and turns to face me. Her eyes are glassy, but nothing falls from
them. Another sight I’ve never seen from her before. It nearly unglues me, but
even now, I still can’t cry. Why can’t I cry? “Politics are a messy business.”

“I’m your daughter,” I choke
out.

Her fingers press against
the shears on the wooden bench. “Until things are rectified, you are not to
call us, come over, or expect either of us to acknowledge you or Jonah in
public or private. I’m sorry, Chloe. Your father is quite convinced this is the
right course of action.”

We’ve never been close, but
there’s always been this hope I’ve harbored—foolishly, but consistently—that we
would be something more. “And you?”

“I am married to him,” she
tells me. There is regret, so much regret in her face, but it’s of no comfort.

How can you do this?
is
what I want to say
. Don’t you love me?
“It’s not like he can tell you
what to do, not if you don’t think it’s right!”

“That is true. Nonetheless,
I have agreed to side with your father in this.” For the first time in years,
she pulls me into her arms and hugs me. Against my ear, she whispers so soft,
“I love you.” And then she lets go and resumes tending her plants.

All
of the seeds of hope within me die.

Jonah takes a few shirts out
of a drawer, and then a couple of pairs of jeans and stuffs them in a small
bag. He’s leaving in the morning, to go on a weeklong mission in an obscure
part of Eastern Africa.

He’s leaving for a week
right on the heels of my mother informing me that she and my father have no
place for me in their lives. And, irrationally, it feels like I’m being
abandoned on every front.

I didn’t tell him about my
mom when I came home, just ten minutes prior. I couldn’t. He’s already got a
difficult enough assignment to focus on, the kind that gnaws at his soul
because he hates the thought of inspiring rebellions even if, in the long run,
they do more good than harm. He doesn’t need to be needlessly worrying over me.

So I sit on his bed while he
packs, trying desperately to chatter on about normal things like our friends,
my lame-ass excuse of a class, and whether or not he’s remembered the can of
bug spray I bought him this week. Every time he goes to Africa, he gets eaten
alive. I joke and tell him it’s because he’s so sweet and that bugs must love
him, but it’s of no consolation when we’re slathering calamine lotion all over
him after each return.

“Don’t forget your rain
slicker.” I motion to a super thin yet extremely waterproof coat I made
especially for him just last night. “I checked the weather forecast; it’s
supposed to rain a lot this week.”

He shoves the coat into his
bag and zips it up.

“What about your
toothbrush?” I stand up and look around, like it’s going to miraculously appear
just because I’m thinking of it.

He pats the bag. “I’ve got
it.”

But just in case, I run into
his bathroom and search for it. And then for his brush, and deodorant, and the
dry shampoo I bought for him. He needs to be prepared. He’s going to be gone
for days. He’s going to be gone for days, and my mom just told me that she and
my dad want nothing to do with me, and—

“Honey.” Jonah’s in the
doorway, waving a piece of paper. “Thanks to your checklist, I’ve got
everything.”

“Good.” I clear my throat.
“Good. I’m glad. You need to be prepared.”

His head cocks to the side,
his eyes filled with far too much concern. “Chloe—”

I try to brush past him, but
he stops me with a gentle hand. “I’ve tried to give you space, but I just can’t
do it anymore. What happened with your mother today?”

He does not need this. Not
now. I’m about to offer up another, “Nothing,” but he slashes his hand through
the air.

“It’s not nothing. Talk to
me.”

I really shouldn’t. He
should be able to go to Africa without having to worry about me. And maybe it
makes me selfish, but I cave and tell him everything. Every word my mother
said, of my father’s ultimatum. How I feel like an orphan even though both of
my parents are still living. How I’ve felt like one the majority of my life.
How I hate that it makes me feel weak, especially since I can’t seem to let
them go as easily as they’ve let me go.

How I wish things were
different.

How I wish I could just move
on already.

My words get faster and less
clear, and in the end, I’m out of breath and babbling, but he listens. Doesn’t
say a word the entire time. I open myself up, let him know every feeling that’s
tearing through me. He leads me back to his bed, his arms around me, and I hold
on for dear life as the words gush out. I cry and rant and choke and whisper,
but I give them all to him, just like I should’ve the first moment I came home
from my mother’s.

He takes my words and my
feelings and holds me even tighter. And then, when everything has flooded out,
and I’m left a vulnerable, naked shell, both emotionally and physically as he
slowly peels away my clothes, he tells me how much he loves me. How he’ll
always be here for me. How my parents are idiots and don’t deserve me.

I feel the sincerity of his
words on my lips as his move against mine, the truth of his conviction in every
butterfly that beats in my chest as his hands move across my body and then
lower still to where I’m achy with need. “I love you,” he whispers to me, over
and over, like it’s a benediction, and I let these blessings soothe the
freshest batch of wounds my heart has collected.

Our
minds merge, and as fireworks explode in my body and behind my eyelids, I no
longer think about what I’ve lost, because I know that, in reality, I’m so damn
lucky to have what I have.

On the way to the Transit
Station, Jonah offers to stay back. It’s what I’ve wanted all along, but I tell
him he’s being ridiculous, that of course he has to go, and that he shouldn’t
worry. That he should focus on what’s important, and that’s the mission he’s
going on.

I think he wants to argue,
but by this point, the Guard on his team have found him and are urging him to
hurry. It breaks my heart to let him go, but I do it. There are people out
there counting on him right now, both nons and Magicals. The region he’s going
to needs stability. These latest uprisings he’s to set off ought to get the
local population heading in the right direction.

My parents disowned me.
That’s nothing compared to an entire region of people deserving a change.

“Go,” I urge him one last
time. I’ve got a big smile on my face that fools everyone but him. “I’m fine.
Go
.”

His goodbye kiss is
reluctant, but he does as I ask. And yet, when he walks through the portal, the
overwhelming loneliness that creeps into my bones is excruciating.

I go
home and crawl back into bed and sleep the rest of the day. Thankfully, I do
not dream.

I’m standing in front of the
lounge where my class should be. But there are no students, no so-called
professor. Instead, there is a sign saying:
Class cancelled due to
unforeseen circumstances.

I dragged myself out of bed
this morning for this?

I wander around Annar
aimlessly, knowing I ought to eat but not feeling hungry enough to do so. I
can’t even bother with the hot dog cart. I’m just about to go home and sleep
some more when someone sitting two restaurants down catches my eye. And it’s
not so much that it’s Kellan that draws my attention, it’s the drop-dead
gorgeous redhead he’s with. She’s leaning towards him, a slim, elegant hand on
his arm as she talks.