If I Fall (10 page)

Despite her words, I know she is too relieved to see me to be truly angry.

“Everything is all right. I am here now. We’re together and we are safe. Everything is all right,” I murmur into her hair.

She pulls away. Tears create luminescent circles under her eyes. “Everything is not all right, El. They will be back. I overheard them talking. They’ve already searched the boiler room and steerage. And it is not as though there will be an empty room in first-class for us to hide away in. We have nowhere else to go.”

I smile, reveling in my knowledge. “Yes, we do.” A devious smirk plucks at the corner of my lips and my eyes betray me.

“What do you know that I don’t?” she asks, eyeing me suspiciously. She shifts then, the set of her eyes changing with a new thought. “Why do I have a terrible feeling this has something to do with that man you have been sneaking off to see?”

I scowl, but ignore her comment. Taking hold of her hand, I lead her back to the door. “Come with me.”

We trail out into the hallway and both glance back at the cargo room. I smile down at her and she smiles back as we both share the same thought:
This is goodbye.
Our time among the crates is over now. Never again will we have to sleep in their company. Yes. A goodbye to the past and a hello to whatever awaits us. I cannot help but think that everything is going to be different now.

Everything.

“Would you like some tea, Mrs. Laurence?”

A maid hovers over the woman sitting across from me. Dela sits beside me; her foot bouncing against the floor and making the whole chaise vibrate with the movement.

I put a hand on her knee. The bouncing ends and she glances at me sheepishly.

“Yes, tea would be lovely. Thank you, Gertrude,” Mrs. Laurence says.

“And for the girls?” Gertrude asks, inclining her head towards us. “Would you two care for some tea?”

“No, thank you,” I say at the same time Dela says, “Yes, please.”

We both turn to each other, her expression full of confusion and incredulity. “But, El! You love tea!”

“I’m not thirsty,” I say through clenched teeth. It feels wrong, accepting tea from this woman who has already given us so much. How could I possibly take anything more?

“But—”

I silence her with a glare. Grudgingly, she turns her attention away from me as she gazes around the room. I follow her line of sight, from the stunning paintings in their golden frames to the Morris Company chair mother always dreamed about. The dragon design carved into the mahogany seems to truly breathe fire.

“This is a beautiful cabin, Mrs. Laurence,” Dela says.

Mrs. Laurence looks around, as though just noticing its beauty. “That is very kind of you to say. Thank you.”

For a moment, I am most pleased with Dela’s behavior, before she says, “It must have cost a fortune.”

I slam my heel down on her toe as I send her another piercing glare, but she simply continues. “Do you own a car, too? Vi wishes to own a car, but I personally—”

I shoot out of my seat so fast the chaise jerks back as though cowed by my intensity. “Dela!” I chide.

Her innocent blue eyes find mine. Mrs. Laurence chuckles and I gaze at her dubiously.

“Oh, it is quite all right, Miss Hamilton. I admire young women who are not afraid to speak their minds. Should women not say what they feel just because it is not viewed as proper? The prejudices against women are not all too different from the prejudices against the Marked, Miss Hamilton. You would be wise to remember that.”

An apology forms in my mind, but before I can utter it, a door slams shut. Our attention snaps towards the source of the sound and my stomach skips into my throat. Standing just outside the bedroom door is Mr. Laurence. His hair is tousled, ends sticking out at odd angles. One side of his shirt is untucked and his tie twists over one shoulder. As he steps forward, I realize his feet are bare against the carpet.

“Mother, it’s Elvira. She has—” His voice fills with urgency before his gaze settles on me. “Oh,” he whispers, his crazed green eyes seeming to calm with this single word.

Mrs. Laurence stands and Dela follows. “Good morning, my darling. I was just getting to know your new friend. The cabin she has been staying in is, unfortunately, infested with rats. I have offered her a place in our cabin and she has graciously accepted.”

He nods as she speaks, his gaze flaring with her last words, but I cannot read his expression. “Yes, that sounds reasonable.”

Dela stands on the tips of her toes to reach my ear and whispers, “I forgive you. I would have snuck off to see him, too, if I were you.”

Without a word, I pinch her arm. She smiles tightly as she turns to Mr. Laurence. “Are you going to introduce me or not, El?” she says, loud enough for all to hear.

Her words make me jump, and I blink rapidly as though awakened from a strange dream. “Yes, of course. Mr. Laurence, may I introduce my sister, Dela Hamilton. Dela, this is Mr. Laurence.” Secretly, I hold my breath, waiting for her sure-to-be-embarrassing reply.

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Dela,” he says, pressing his lips against the top of her hand. Her cheeks flare bright red and I roll my eyes, suppressing a giggle. When he rises, he turns to me. “You never told me you had a sister, Vi.”

“Adam!” Mrs. Laurence barks. “I am terribly sorry, Miss Hamilton. My son has a terrible aversion to using anything besides one’s Christian name.”

I smile. “He also seems quite fond of creating nicknames,” I say as we all laugh at his expense.

Mrs. Laurence glances at the door and sighs. “My sincere apologies, but I really must be going. I promised Mrs. Lindel I would accompany her to morning tea.”

“Ah, yes, I remember,” Mr. Laurence says, stepping closer.

“You will also remember that there is a ball tonight. We all must be in attendance,” she says. Looking around the room, she calls for Gertrude.

The old woman appears from the bedroom. “Yes, Mrs. Laurence?”

“If you could please draw a bath and assist the girls in bathing and dressing.”

“Of course, Mrs. Laurence,” she says before departing into the bathroom.

I glance at Mr. Laurence, entreating him with my eyes to say something. He clears his throat, shuffling forward on his bare feet. “I am sure Vi is quite capable of bathing herself, Mother.”

“I don’t need any help either!” Dela whines.

She glances between us hesitantly, but eventually throws her hands in the air. “Oh, very well, but I expect you both to smell like a dozen roses when I return!” she laughs before slipping through the door.

Gertrude sneaks out from the bathroom in silence. “The bath is ready now, Miss Hamilton. Who shall go first?”

“I want to go first!” Dela says, running past the older woman into the bathroom. The door slams shut behind her and I stop myself from scolding my sister for her evident lack of propriety. A groan wells up inside of me;
I am becoming my mother.

Gertrude looks to me for confirmation. I shrug. “She is dirtier than I.”

As I say this, Dela’s blonde head pokes out from behind the door. “Am not!”

Beside me, Mr. Laurence shakes his head in disbelief. I look to him questioningly.

“Splendid,” he mumbles, a playful seriousness glinting in his eyes. “Just what the world needs.
Two
Vi’s.”

12
TELLING

I wait in the bedroom as Dela bathes. Pulling back the white bedspread, I slip under and haul it up to my chin. I close my eyes, playing through all of the events that had brought me to this moment.

I try to picture Mr. Laurence’s face when he found out I would be staying with him and his mother. Did he seem pleased? Was he angry? I can’t be sure and asking him would be unbearable. I roll over onto my stomach, wanting to block him from my mind—a task that has become increasingly difficult.

At the thought of not wanting to think about him, my mind naturally fills with images and memories of Mr. Laurence. With a groan, I turn back onto my side and open my eyes. Bright green irises and a blinding white grin stare back at me. I scream. Shocked, I jump back, falling over the edge of the bed and tumbling onto the floor. In an attempt to stand, I grab hold of the bedside; it teeters with the pull of my weight.

I hold a hand to my heart, waiting until my breathing slows. I look back to the bed; he still lies there, not perturbed by my outburst in the least. His smile stretches as I glower at him. Shifting onto his side, he props himself up on one elbow. His hand cradles his ego-filled head.

“Adam!” I shriek.

A chuckle vibrates deep in his throat, and a glint in his eyes puts me on edge.

“What?” I ask cautiously.

His smile turns into a smug smirk. “You called me Adam.”

I open my mouth to argue when I realize he is right. I did call him Adam.
I called him Adam!
Never before has using one’s Christian name seemed to carry so many implicit insinuations. Still, not wanting to admit it was an accident, I feign indifference. With a roll of my eyes, I say, “That is your name, is it not?”

He shakes his head. I should have known he would see right through me. “You called me Adam,” he taunts.

Slowly, I move towards the bed as I cross my arms over my chest. “Mr. Laurence, if you would please—”

He does not let me finish. “Oh, come on, Vi. Have we not passed the formal name stage of our relationship? Are we not friends?”

The question catches me off guard. I take a step back, tucking my hair behind my ears. I look to him, wanting to study his expression, to see if he is only playing with me, but his face is perfectly composed.

“I—I don’t know. Are we?”

The corner of his mouth lifts in a crooked smirk. “I asked you first.”

I turn around, unable to look him in the eye as I say, “I wouldn’t be able to say. Dela and I grew up in a small village on the outskirts of Liverpool. There weren’t a lot of children there.”

The bed squeaks as Adam moves to stand. I feel the heat of his body, suddenly very close to mine. His breath warms the back of my neck, and at the same time, sends chills running down my spine. I refuse to turn around, to get caught in the hypnosis of his gaze.

“Are you trying to tell me you never had any friends?” he breathes. His voice is like a deep purr, coaxing the answer out of me. I want to answer. I want to tell him everything, before he adds, “Because that is truly pathetic.”

I spin around on my heel, a sudden anger controlling my body rather than my brain. Unbalanced, I reach out to steady myself against his chest and instantly rip my hands back, appalled. He laughs at my reaction; my agitation grows.

“I never said I didn’t have any friends,” I spit.

“Fine, Vi. Who, then, were your friends?”

I open my mouth, but do not have a reply. He is right. That is exactly what I was trying to say. I do not know what it is to have a human friend. There were few Marked children in our village, and all were much younger than Dela or I. As for those without Marks? Not many chose to live in a village infested with Marked. The few that did wouldn’t dare allow their children to play with us.

Yet Dela still managed to have friends; they just weren’t alive. Despite being ghosts, they offered all a real friend would provide as she ran around the house playing Hide and Seek, Red Rover, and Hopscotch. Meanwhile, I entertained myself.

“My friends were the flowers,” I whisper. It is only when his finger slips under my chin, tilting my face upwards so that I must gaze into his eyes, that I realize I just spoke aloud. “I liked to pretend that they talked to me. The roses would always complain about the old man’s beards and dandelions that were trying to conquer their land. I made believe that I was their savior. I would pluck out all of the weeds, and the Gladioluses would shower me with thanks and they would make me a woven crown of Genistra and Leptospermum. Then at night, we would have a grand feast and dance beneath the stars. They were my only friends, Adam.” My voice fades out until it is barely audible.

As I speak, I do not resist his hand beneath my jaw, nor do I resist his smoldering gaze. He watches me, watches my lips as I tell him about my garden, watches my eyes as they flicker across his face, and watches my cheeks as they develop a rosy glow. He breathes in my story without a word, and when I finish, he does not laugh.

“How many people have you told about the flowers?” he whispers.

I think about it for a moment, then smile. “No one.”

“Then it is a secret?” he asks.

“Yes,” I say. “I suppose it is.”

His hand moves out from beneath my chin, drawing its way up my jaw, and capturing a black curl between his fingers. He stares at it absently as he twirls it in his hand. I hold my breath. Glowing with a new fire, those green eyes travel over my face until they connect with the violet of my own. Slowly, he leans forward. I stare at his lips, watching them as they inch closer and closer to mine.

My mind screams for me to do something. It hollers for me to stop him from moving any closer, but I am frozen. My lungs cry for air; I breathe in through my nose. His lips part only an inch from my own, where they pause. I close my eyes as he moves past my mouth to just above my neck. With his warm breath caressing my ear, my thoughts dissolve into a fog. Its haze intermingles with his sweet breath. Though his lips never touch my skin, the possibility is frighteningly present. I keep my eyes shut, still hesitant to breathe.