Eternity's Edge (17 page)

“How can a mirror represent a note?” She angled her ear toward the wall. “I don't hear any music.”

Nathan lifted his bow again and played a long middle C. “Did that change anything?”

“Not that I can tell, but I'm half blind. And I didn't hear anything but the violin.”

He played every C possible, pausing after each one, but nothing changed. Some of the images showed country landscapes and deserted highways, others provided views of city skylines, and a few gave them glimpses of rooms inside homes with families huddling around fireplaces or storm lanterns. In one sparse living room, four wide-eyed children locked their stares on a father as he read to them in the glow of a single candle.

Kelly moved a finger gently across the family's image. “They're so scared!”

“Can you see them?”

“Barely, but I don't really need to. It's like I can feel what they're feeling.”

“Your interpretive skills must be getting stronger,” Nathan said.

“I know, but sometimes it's a curse. I don't want to feel what other people are feeling, especially when they're terrified.”

Nathan laid his hand over hers. “If we want to help them, we have to figure out what following the dream means.”

She drew back and lowered her head, whispering, “It'll have to be your dream. I don't think mine will ever come true.”

“Why not?”

She shook her head. “Never mind. Let's concentrate on yours.”

He tried to catch her gaze, but she kept her eyes low. What could be getting her down? What dream could be so lofty that it could never come true? Undo something in her past? Her mother coming home? Maybe one of those. But it was probably better not to ask. If she really wanted him to know, she'd tell him.

He tried to infuse a bit more energy into his voice. “My
dream is to get my parents back, but it seems like it won't ever come true, either.”

“Maybe Abodah meant a literal dream,” she said, looking up at him again. “Maybe you have to go to sleep here, and Patar will stalk your dream. Then he'll tell you what to do.”

Nathan's voice spiked sharply. “Sleep? Now? The universe is about to collapse and you want me to take a nap?”

“What choice do you have? You've been awake for what? Thirty hours? And listen to you. Since when do you yell at me like that? You're exhausted.”

Her words stung. He had been trying to squash down the tension, but it had just burst through. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You're right, as usual. It
has
been a long day. The Earth Yellow clock really messed things up.”

“There's still enough mattress left to lie down on.” She pulled the ripped mattress away from the wall and laid it flat on the floor. “Now you have a comfortable place to rest. Why don't you just lie down and see what happens? I've had more sleep than you, so I'll stand guard.”

Nathan eyed the mattress. He probably could fall asleep, and maybe Patar would come and pay his dreams a visit. He had done it before. But what if some kind of interpretation was needed and Kelly wasn't there?

Thoughts of Francesca's dream flowed back into his mind. She believed that she and Dr. Malenkov had dreamed together by touching while asleep, but he never remembered it, so didn't that mean her theory might be wrong? On the other hand, one of the photos proved that her teacher stood behind her with a violin bow, but could he have just been a figment of Francesca's dream, not really there in a conscious state?

Still, if Francesca believed it, she must have had a good reason. After all, this was the younger version of his mother. Her gift of insight far surpassed his own. Not only that, the message from Abodah said to sleep with the interpreter.

But how could he do that? Sure, any touching would be innocent, maybe holding hands just to get the job done, but wouldn't even that kind of contact be forbidden in his father's sight? Wouldn't closeness on a mattress raise the temperature of his already simmering hormones? And what would Kelly think? He couldn't just ask her to sleep with him, could he?

He took her hand and drew her closer. “My thoughts are really jumbled. Can you —”

“Read your mind again?” She gave him a sly smile. “As tired as you are, it might put me to sleep.”

He nodded at his violin, still in his hand. “Would it help if I played some music?”

“Good idea. Just play like you did for Tsayad, something from your heart.”

“Will do.” He raised his bow and brushed it softly across the strings. His mood called for something gentle, something that would communicate his innocent fondness for Kelly and his desire to treat her emotions with tenderness.

Tilting her head slightly, she smiled and sighed, her glassy eyes focusing more easily than usual. The music seemed to warm her heart.

For some reason Kelly's comfort and ease annoyed him. He pushed deeper into the strings. As if driven by an uncontrollable inner passion, he made the bow rocket back and forth. A thousand thoughts raced through his mind, so fast he couldn't focus on a single one. They streamed from his frazzled brain directly into his instrument, flying into the air as a string of music, melodic at first, then tortured and dissonant.

Kelly's smile faded. After several seconds, she blinked twice and turned her head.

Nathan stopped playing. His chest heaving through labored breaths, he coughed out his words. “What's wrong?”

She swiveled back. A tear moistened her cheek as she looked him in the eye again. “I … I'm not a harlot.”

Nathan stiffened, but he managed to keep his face calm. “I know you're not. I've never thought that.”

“Then your music tells lies.”

He let the violin droop at his side. “Mictar said that, not me. Maybe I'm just mad at him.”

Kelly shook her head. “You believed him. You think I'm not good enough for you.” She sniffed, and her voice cracked. “And maybe … maybe you're right. You need a sweet little princess who's as white as snow.”

“Look.” Nathan raised his bow but resisted the urge to point it at her. “I'm not going to lie to you. The stuff I heard bothered me, but it's in the past.”

“You'd like to think so, but in your eyes I'm damaged goods.”

“Damaged goods? Did you hear that in my music?”

She nodded. “And now … now you want us to sleep together.” Biting her bottom lip, she crossed her arms and turned away. “I promised myself I wasn't ever going to make the same mistakes again. Not for you. Not for anyone.”

He touched her arm but thought better of pulling her around. “But it's just so we can dream together. Nothing else is going to happen.”

She turned back, her cheeks ablaze. “Nathan Shepherd, don't pretend you know what it's like. You were raised in a protective dome. You've probably never even kissed a girl. You have no idea how it feels when the lights go out and …” Her cheeks turning redder than ever, she looked away. “Never mind. You wouldn't understand unless you've been there.”

He set a gentle finger on her chin. This time he turned her face toward him and looked her in the eye. “You're right. I don't understand. But this much I do know.” He paused, hoping the words would come out with all the strength and resolve he felt inside. “You can trust me. No matter what happens, you can trust me.”

As new tears welled in her eyes, her lower lip quivered. “I trust you. I … I just don't trust myself.”

Nathan pulled back his hand. “Then I'll have to be strong enough for both of us.” He sat on the floor and patted the mattress. “You get the comfy spot, and I'll sleep down here. We can hold hands and stay apart at the same time.”

With a doubtful look, she lowered herself to the mattress and lay down. She curled up and faced him, one hand extended. “Okay, Nathan. I'll trust you … for both of us.”

As he lay down, he touched her fingers. The light in the room faded, leaving only her body's silhouette, the bare outline of her facial features, and her shining eyes in view. After a minute or so, her lips puckered slightly as she spoke again.

“
Have
you ever kissed a girl, Nathan?”

Nathan hesitated. The question was a simple one, but he wanted to give more than a simple answer. “No. I want my first kiss to be when the pastor says, ‘You may now kiss the bride.’”

She let out a low humming sound. “Actually, that's really romantic.” Her voice now came from out of almost total darkness, except for the weak glow in her eyes. “But is that your belief, or your father's?”

This time he didn't hesitate. “Both. I know I was raised in a dome, like you said, but I want my wife to be the only girl I ever kiss, and the only way I'll know for sure is to wait until our wedding day.”

As a whispered sigh drifted toward him, her glowing orbs blinked out. “I hope I'm there to see it.” Her grip on his hand tightened for a brief second, then loosened, but their index fingers remained curled together.

Nathan lay back and closed his eyes, but Kelly's anguished face remained branded in his mind. Her voice replayed, “I'm not a harlot … In your eyes, I'm damaged goods … I promised myself I wasn't ever going to make the same mistakes again. Not for you. Not for anyone.”

The words echoed over and over. Did he really think she was damaged goods? She made a promise never to do again whatever it was she had done. Could he treat her as though she were the untouched princess she had talked about? Could he ever stop wondering what she had done? Was Mictar right when he said,
“You want to know every lurid detail. She is your dark shadow, and you will never find your parents while you entertain a harlot at your side.”

He grimaced at the spiteful words. But were they true? Would his parents accept her? Or would his father see her as a harlot, a wicked wench to be despised?

As the stalker's accusations echoed, Nathan replayed a scene from only a few months ago in London. He and his father were walking back from his mother's performance, but she had stayed at the hall for a reception, planning to take a taxi with Clara later.

Fog shrouded his thoughts, the effects of sleep looming close by. His mind drifted, allowing the mist to dress a London street and bordering sidewalk, well-lit but with only a few people tromping over the wet concrete.

His father strode with a lively gait. “Your mother was fabulous, as usual.”

Nathan laughed. “Yeah, but the other violinist looked annoyed. He couldn't hold a candle.”

“Oh, I don't think so. He was just … intimidated.”

His father stopped suddenly and looked toward an alleyway. Nathan followed his line of sight. A woman had sprawled across the gutter, her legs in the alley and her head and torso on the dirty walkway.

Nathan shrugged. “Probably just a —”

“Be right back!” his father said as he jumped into a trot toward the alley. Stooping, he helped the young woman get up
from the pavement. She was filthy, her skimpy clothes were torn, and makeup smeared her face.

As Nathan walked closer, his father used his own jacket to wipe mud from the woman's arms and legs and brushed tears away from her face with his thumbs. Finally, he gave her money, at least three or four bills. One couple paused and stared at them, then walked on, shaking their heads.

After talking to her for a couple of minutes, he hailed a taxi and helped her get in the back, then paid the driver. When he finally returned to Nathan's side, the two again headed toward the hotel.

Nathan stared at him, trying hard to keep his tone in check. “She's a prostitute.”

His father stuffed his hands into his pockets. “I know.”

“You rubbed her arms and legs, and you gave her money.”

He glanced at Nathan, then refocused on the sidewalk ahead. “Yes, I know that, too.”

“Everyone else on the street will think you were her last customer.”

His father lifted his head higher. “And everyone who knows me will realize that couldn't possibly be true, no matter how it looked.”

“But what about propriety? How many times have you told me not to touch a girl if she's not my wife?”

His father stopped and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Propriety can be a wise tutor, Son, but it can also be a cruel taskmaster. The key is to know when to dismiss propriety. It is good not to touch a woman who is not your wife, but to refuse a touch when a life is at stake is cruelty. It is a great sin against God and against humanity.”

“But what if a life isn't at stake? You didn't know if that prostitute would have died. Maybe she was just drunk.”

His father let out a sigh but kept a gentle smile. “She
was
drunk, Nathan. She is a slave to her body and to those who use
her body for their pleasures. She sees no light in her dark prison, so I gave her a glimpse of the light that you and I follow.” He laid an arm over Nathan's shoulders, and the two walked on. “Sacrificial love is a light that shines in the darkest places, no matter who is watching.”

Nathan opened his eyes. The two glowing orbs had returned. Kelly was looking right at him, close enough for her injured eyes to focus clearly. He didn't dare turn away from her. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“Reading your mind again.”

“But I wasn't playing music. I —”

She set two fingers on his lips and let out a quiet, “Shhhhh.” Then, interlocking her index finger with his again, she curled up and closed her eyes. “Sweet dreams, Nathan.” After letting out a long yawn, she added, “You're the best.”

He released a long breath and let his eyelids droop. Kelly's cool, soft hand sent more prickles across his skin. Her closeness felt good, too good, but he had work to do, and his exhaustion would kick in before long. He yawned, then sighed. Sleep would soon come.

After what seemed like a few minutes, he opened his eyes and checked out his surroundings. He lay on the floor, one finger still curled around Kelly's. The room was much darker than before. Had he awakened in the middle of the night, or was he dreaming?

He sat up and looked back at the floor. His body still lay there, breathing rhythmically. Smiling at his own awkward fetal pose, he gave his sleeping body a light pat on the shoulder. So this was a dream, a strikingly realistic one, but definitely a dream.

Something new lay on the floor near the mirror. A body? Nathan jumped up, leaving his sleeping form behind. He rushed to the mirror and knelt. The body appeared to be a man, a
rather hefty one lying on his stomach. Craning his neck, Nathan listened. Yes. The man was breathing.