Lost Children of the Far Islands (6 page)

“Ila. Said. Something,” she said slowly. “She said
moray
.”

Leo frowned. “What does that mean?”

“I have no idea, but she said it.”

Leo put his hand on Ila’s head.

“Ila, what’s a moray? Do you mean a moray eel?”

“You idiot,” Gus said. “Of course she doesn’t mean a moray
eel
, do you, Ila?”

Ila shook her head. “Moray,” she said again.

Leo jumped to his feet. “I’ll go look it up,” he said, and ran up the stairs to his gigantic illustrated encyclopedia.

Gus and Ila sat on the floor of the hallway. Ila laid her head on Gus’s shoulder. And that was how Mrs. Moore found them when she came into the house to explain that their father had gone to the hospital and that the
three of them—Gus, Leo, and Ila—would be staying with her for the next couple of days.

At that, the wonder of Ila’s voice was forgotten and the truth crashed back in on them—their mother was lost to them, at least for the moment, and their father may as well have been lost too.

Gus and Ila went upstairs to their room to get pajamas and toothbrushes. Gus stood looking at her unmade bed for a minute, and then before she knew it, she was facedown on it, weeping miserably. Ila came and stood next to her, patting her head with one small hand. Gus didn’t hear Leo come in, but she felt his hand on her shoulder.

“I couldn’t find any other meaning for
moray
,” he said, speaking quickly. “Just, you know, the eel. I mean, I guess we could try other spellings, right …?” His voice trailed off.

Gus turned over and looked at him. He shoved his glasses up higher on his nose, even though they had not slipped down.

“Are we going to be OK?” she asked him.

Leo’s hand dropped to his side. “I don’t know,” he said.

Gus wiped her eyes and kissed the top of Ila’s head, and the three of them made their slow way out the front door and over to Mrs. Moore’s.

The next morning, Mrs. Moore woke them up with the smell of bacon and eggs cooking. Gus felt stiff and sore,
as though she had been hiking all day long the day before. Leo was already at the table with Ila.

“Come on, Ila,” he was saying. “Say
Good morning
. Say
Leo
.” But Ila only smiled at him and reached for her juice.

Gus slid into a chair next to Leo. Mrs. Moore brought them each a plate piled high with scrambled eggs, bacon, and thick slices of toast with jam. Gus liked butter on her toast. Not that it mattered—her stomach felt far too tight to eat anything anyway.

Leo was shoveling eggs into his mouth. “Thank you, Mrs. Moore,” he said as he reached for his toast.

Gus felt a flash of irritation with him. “Can we go to the hospital?” she asked.

“I don’t know about that, honey,” Mrs. Moore said as she came to sit down with them. “Let me call your dad first and find out what he wants to do.”

“It’s our mother,” Gus said pointedly, and then felt horrible. It wasn’t Mrs. Moore’s fault.

But Mrs. Moore seemed to understand. She put a hand on Gus’s arm and said gently, “I’m sure they will let you see her as soon as possible, sweetie.”

Hot tears filled Gus’s eyes. She pushed back from the table, muttered a quick “Excuse me,” and ran upstairs. Gus never cried in front of other people. Crying made her feel prickly and furious, and the thought of being seen crying was even worse.

A while later there was a knock on the door and Leo came into the bedroom. Gus sat up quickly and rubbed her fists across her eyes.

“Mrs. Moore says we can go to see Mom this afternoon,” Leo said.

“I guess we won’t have to go to school today,” Gus said.

Leo nodded.

“I’m scared,” Gus said. Leo crossed the room and sat on the end of the bed. They stayed like that for a long time, neither of them speaking, while the morning sun made its slow way across the unfamiliar rug in the unfamiliar room.

From the outside, the hospital looked like an overlarge house. But the lobby was clearly that of a hospital, with people in wheelchairs and, on one bench, a woman crying quietly on the shoulder of an older woman. Gus started to feel angry, which meant she was going to cry again. Fiercely, she pinched the inside of her arm until the pain chased out the tears. She took a deep breath and followed Leo and Ila and Mrs. Moore into the elevator that would take them to their mother.

Their father met them in the hallway. His face was covered in stubble and his shirt was wrinkled and untucked.

“Fish,” he said, using his special nickname for them. The children ran to him, and he knelt down and held them tightly.

“OK,” he said finally, straightening up. “Listen to me carefully. Mom is sleeping right now. They’ve given her
medication to keep her that way while they try to figure out what’s going on. So that means there are a lot of wires and gadgets and things. But don’t be scared, OK? Because she’s in there, she’s just under a lot of junk.” He sounded like he was trying to talk himself into something. “OK?” he said again.

“OK,” Gus said.

“They think she can hear you,” their father continued. “Well, they don’t actually know, but oftentimes people in comas can hear, so don’t be afraid to talk to her.”

He didn’t seem to realize he had said the word
coma
. Leo looked frightened. Their father ran his hand through his hair.

“OK,” he said distractedly. “OK, let’s go, then.” He picked up Ila, who did not protest, and they made their way into the hospital room.

Their mother was a small ripple under the sheet. A tube ran from her nose to a machine next to the bed. More tubes ran from her arm and from under the blankets. They could hear a whooshing noise and, over that, the beeping of machines.
Keeping her alive
, Gus thought suddenly. The machines were keeping her mother alive.

“Mom?” Leo said, and then he and Gus were on their knees next to her. Their father shifted Ila onto one hip and took one of their mother’s hands. It lay there, pale and limp in his larger hand.

“The kids are here, Rosie. Gus and Leo and Ila are here.” Their mother didn’t move.

“Mom,” Gus said, and then ran out of words. How could she talk to this sleeping doll? She looked like she should be lying in a glass coffin, waiting for a prince to kiss her and bring her back to life.

“Mom,” Leo said, his voice loud in the hushed room. “Mom, Ila said something. She talked to Gus!”

Their mother lay still.

“Ila spoke?” their dad said sharply.

“Yes,” Gus said, remembering. “She said
moray
, like the eel or something. It doesn’t really make sense, but still—”

Gus was looking at her father when she said this. All of the color had gone out of his face, leaving him as pale as the sheet that covered their mother.

“She said
móraí
?” he whispered.

Gus said, “Dad?” a little frightened now.

Just then, the machines around their mother began frantically beeping, and an alarm like a bell went off somewhere above their heads.

“Rosemaris!” their father cried, and then the room filled with people shouting and pushing.

“Get the dad and kids out of here!” someone said.

“Mom!” Leo shouted, twisting in the hands that held his shoulders. Ila let out a piercing scream as another nurse scooped her up. But their mother had disappeared under a sea of white coats and blue scrub pants. Gus heard someone say “Now!” and then the door
slammed shut, leaving them alone in the hallway, clinging to their father.

Something is coming
, Gus thought. She could almost see it crouching low just outside her vision. Even as she wept wildly into her father’s jacketed shoulder, furious and frightened and full of grief, she could feel it waiting.

They sat for hours in the small room at the end of the hall. Their father bought candy and a crossword book, but no one felt like eating or playing a game. Leo had a book that must have come from one of his pockets, and he was hunched over reading it. Ila drew horses and bears on a large pad of paper and then fell asleep slumped against Gus’s shoulder. Gus sat totally still and watched the black hands on the large round clock on the wall tick forward. Inside she was concentrating fiercely, saying over and over to herself,
Live, live, live
. The clock ticked on and on and Gus kept thinking her wish in tune to the dull sound of the hands creeping past each black slash and number. Finally, a doctor appeared in the doorway. She was pretty, with curly hair and green-edged glasses.

“Mr. Brennan?” she said, and their father jumped up. She smiled, looking at Gus and Leo as well, so that they were included in her smile. “Your mom is doing just
fine,” she said to them, and then nodded to their father to join her in the hallway.

Gus shrugged Ila off her shoulder and the children crept after the doctor and their father. The door was open a crack, and they bent their heads toward the sound of voices in the hallway. Gus could just see the doctor’s face. She was not smiling anymore. She looked grave and was speaking urgently to their father.

“Any medication at all?” Gus heard, and then “Waiting on more tests, but I have to say I’m baffled by the—” Leo shifted, and the sound covered the doctor’s next few words.

“Shhh!” Gus hissed at him.

“Yes,” the doctor was saying. “We got her back this time, but I’m afraid, Mr. Brennan, it doesn’t look good. I’m so sorry.”

She put one hand on their father’s arm as she spoke. He bent his head for a long minute. Then he said, “I don’t want the children to see her like this. And I don’t want anyone else allowed in. No visitors but me, please.”

The doctor nodded. “I understand.”

Gus, Leo, and Ila pulled away from the door hurriedly as their father and the doctor shook hands. When he returned to the small room, they were sitting side by side on the couch, waiting for him.

“Well,” their father said in a loud, jolly voice. “Mom’s resting and everything looks good.”

“I want to see her,” Gus said.

“Me too,” said Leo.

Ila nodded stoutly.

Their father knelt down so that he was looking at the three of them. “Your mom needs to rest,” he said. “The doctor has decided that she can’t have any visitors for a little while. I can check on her, but that’s it. The doctor doesn’t want her to be disturbed while she’s getting better.”

“That’s not—” Gus began furiously, but Leo kicked her. “Not fair,” she corrected herself. Her father didn’t even seem to hear her. He was looking away from both of them, lost in his own thoughts. Then he shrugged his shoulders sharply, as if waking himself up out of a dream.

“Let’s go home, my fish,” he said, and they stood up because there was nothing else to be done. Their father had never lied to them about anything. He always said that honesty was not just the best policy, but the only one. But he had just looked them in the eyes and lied. Walking down the long, bright hallway with her father and her brother and sister, Gus suddenly felt more alone than she had ever felt in her life.

That night, Gus, Leo, and Ila had supper at Mrs. Moore’s house again. They were to stay there while their father slept at the hospital.

“I want to see her,” Gus said bitterly to Leo.

They were sitting in what Mrs. Moore called the sun room. It was a small room with a skylight and two wicker couches. The space was filled with plants, which gave it a pleasant, green sort of smell. They had escaped to the
sun room after dinner, as soon as they had cleared their dishes. Mrs. Moore had offered them television, and usually they would have jumped at a chance to watch because they did not have a television in their own house, but tonight they wanted to be alone to talk.

“Dad lied,” Leo said. “He’s just trying to keep us out.”

Gus nodded. Ila, watching Gus, nodded too.

“Did you see his face when I said that Ila spoke?” Gus said.

“I looked up
moray
in my encyclopedia,” Leo said. “It’s also a town in Scotland. Or, rather, a council area. Whatever that is. In the northeast.”

“Well, that’s incredibly useful,” Gus said, covering her fear with sarcasm.

“You don’t have to bite my head off,” Leo said huffily.

“Watcher,” Ila said.

Leo and Gus both sat perfectly still.

“What did you say, Ila?” Gus said quietly.

Ila looked up at her. No one had brushed her hair in days. It was wild and curly, a fiery red cloud around her eyes, which tonight were as green as the midsummer sea, with only a thin circle of brown at their very edges.

“Watcher,” she said again.

“What ‘watcher,’ Ila? Watching who?”

Ila said nothing.

“Please, Ila,” Leo pleaded. “Please tell us.”

But Ila refused to say anything more.

Leo and Gus talked late into the night, keeping their voices low so they would not wake Ila, who was sleeping
on an air mattress between the twin beds. Leo thought they should question their father.

“We need to find out what Ila is talking about,” he whispered. “Something’s going on here, Gus, and I think she’s the key.”

“Don’t be an idiot, Leo,” Gus whispered back. “Ila’s not a key! She’s our weirdo sister who won’t say anything but some word that might mean eel and might mean nothing at all.”