The Steward (22 page)

With just a few miles to go before we reached the front gate of the Weald, my guilt boiled up again, and my forehead felt like it was on fire. Fumbling with the button on the console, I rolled down my window to let the fresh air blast my face. It helped … a little.

“Is it Rhonda, honey?” Mom asked.

“Yeah. I still feel so bad,” I said, finally breaking my silence.

“Terrible things happen sometimes, Maggie. She’s going to be fine. Stop beating yourself up—this wasn’t your fault and there isn’t anything you could’ve done to prevent it.”

“But if she hadn’t seen me ... and…”

“Maggie, you can’t blame yourself for that. I’m still not happy about you kissing Mr. Monroe. Aye! Magdalena! But you didn’t cause her wreck.”

“Mom, you didn’t see her face. She was so upset, and she took off so fast ... I should have stopped her, or followed her, something.”

“Honey, the police said she swerved to miss a falling rock. Her wreck was an accident. Rocks fall onto the highway there all the time. It wasn’t your fault. Besides that, do you think she’d have stopped for you? Really? I know you’re smarter than that, Piñata.”

“No, she wouldn’t have stopped.” Mom was right and I knew it.

“It might have been worse if you’d been following her—it could have been you. Maria Madre de Dios!” she said before breaking off in a silent prayer and crossing herself.

I felt the car slow down, and I stared straight ahead when I heard the whirring sound of the sequential turn signal as we neared the front gate. The black marks Rhonda had left on the highway were reminders of what happened—reminders were everywhere. Mom pulled into the Toy Box and parked her burgundy Thunderbird next to mine. I hadn’t driven since the party. I couldn’t.

Sara and Gavin were waiting in the cottage when Mom and I walked in. I didn’t even notice his car. I’d seen him the day after the party, but I hadn’t had a chance to talk to him alone, and at the time, it didn’t seem appropriate. Today, he got up as soon as I walked in the door, and met me by the stairs.

“Oh no, turn around, I still haven’t had my turn in your car—remember, you owe me? I’m here to collect,” he said.

The smile on his face did what it always did—it made my knees weak. I still didn’t know what to say to him, but I did want to get out of the house.

“Mom, Dad, do you mind?”

“No, they don’t,” Aunt May said, shooting them both a look. “I gave that car ta ya ta drive! Best be gettin’ on with it.” She gave me a crooked smile and peered over the top of her glasses. “Now, I mean it! Get yer behind outta here for a few hours. Ya don’t need ta be mopin’ around here all day—yer depressin’ the hell outta me. And don’t come back ‘til ya’ve worn some rubber off those tires—I’ll be check’n ‘em when ya get home.”

“Okay, I won’t be gone too long,” I said.

I handed Gavin the keys as we got close to the Toy Box and he promptly handed them back. I climbed behind the wheel, and starting laughing when he got in the passenger side and gave me a funny look. His head touched the canvas top and his knees cleared the dash by only inches. He unclipped the hinge on the top, raised his eyebrows, and stared at the hinge above me.

“Topless, I guess?”

He grinned and nodded. “This car should be driven with the top down, and, uh, I don’t seem to have a choice.”

At the top of the driveway, I became a little uneasy as we passed the spot where Doug kissed me. But Gavin didn’t acknowledge that anything was different. At the road he told me to go left, and we drove down the highway toward town. The warm air felt great as it blew across my face.

He settled into the seat and laid his right arm on the top of the door, holding the wing window. He moved his other hand to the space between us on the seat. At first I thought he wanted to take my hand, but when I looked, he held a pale green, triangular stone in his palm. It was the stone for the Air trial.

“It’s a week from today,” he said, staring at the road in front of us.

I’d forgotten about the trial with everything that happened, and I wasn’t sure whether taking it was a good idea given my current state. Since Rhonda’s accident, I hadn’t given the Air trial much thought at all. To have any hope of passing it, I really needed to focus on what it meant. Besides the symbol, the Earth trial had focused on three Irish words, Tuiasceart, Talahm, and Corp—Winter, Earth, and Body. The Air symbol contained three similar words—Oirthear, Aer, and Siorad—East, Air, and Spirit. The when, what, and how of the elemental trials. Aunt May and I had talked about it a few times, and I thought I had a better understanding of what Spirit meant, at least for the trial. As far as the associations attached to the other elements, I felt a connection, an understanding of their meanings, but for Air, Spirit, I still drew a blank.

“Where will it happen?” I asked.

“On the second island, the one furthest from the point. I’ll take you there in the late evening. You’ll have from twilight until nightfall to complete the task,” he said.

“Are you allowed to tell me what I’m supposed to do?”

“Yes, but only in the most general terms. You’re to find the Air symbol and place the stone in it. Same format as the Earth trial, absent the cave.”

When he said cave I felt my body shudder a little. He laughed when I exhaled.

“That’s not much to go on, you know.”

He nodded. “I know, but it is called a
trial
. Study the elements in the temple—or gazebo, if you prefer that name—the elements associated with the Air sign. If you can discover the nexus each symbol shares with the others, and their connection to the Air element, you will find the sign and you’ll understand how to proceed.”

“A riddle?”

Something a little more concrete would have been nice, but I knew he wouldn’t say anything else. I tried to wrap my mind around the clues, but nothing clicked. More than that, I couldn’t shake the lingering doubt—I didn’t believe I could pass this test.

We drove for several hours, but I never got the chance to talk to Gavin about us, or what happened between Doug and me. He was back to sidestepping my questions and changing the subject so deftly that I gave up.

* * *

School wasn’t as bad as I’d feared. Other than Rachel’s absence—she was always with Rhonda—the week seemed fairly routine. Every other person I saw thanked me for the invitation to my party, and apologized that it had to end the way it did. Even though everyone found out about
the kiss
, all the nasty stares and whispers I assumed would haunt me for the next month failed to materialize. When we were alone, Candace joked that the kids in school probably didn’t hold anything against me because Rhonda was always such a tyrant.

Candace locked her hazel eyes on me, and whispered, “She’s rich and pretty. Don’t get me wrong, she’s my friend and I love her, but she’s not popular because she’s nice.”

So much for Aunt May’s triad of popularity.

With the Air trial approaching so quickly, I’d spent Wednesday at Chloe’s store researching the cardinal elements and asking questions while trying not to arouse suspicions. Of course, Candace had read everything already and, like a scholar with a photographic memory, she gave me the run down on what she knew. It helped, some, but I still didn’t know what to expect.

Then out of the blue, Candace asked me if I’d been to the place where Rhonda wrecked. I had. Gavin took me in an effort to get me to stop blaming myself. He pointed out that a section of guardrail was missing, apparently removed by the highway department sometime before the accident. Had it been in place, Rhonda’s car would not have careened down the mountain and into the trees. Candace acted very bizarre as I told her about it, and I couldn’t figure out why. She didn’t blame me for the accident, she never did, but she seemed even more consumed with the wreck than I was.

On Thursday she mentioned it again, and she asked me whether I’d heard the airbag failed to deploy—that was why Rhonda broke her jaw on the steering wheel. I hadn’t heard about the airbag. Rhonda had the worst luck that day, it seemed.

Candace told me that Mr. Adair, Rhonda’s dad, had a big problem with all the coincidence surrounding the accident. He had retained Candace’s father for possible litigation.

She hesitated for a moment. A strange, quizzical look formed on her face, accompanied by a deep furrow just above her brow. Her hazel eyes flashed.

“Wasn’t that the caretaker who brought you Rhonda’s gift?”

“Yes, Chalen,” I said.

“I thought so. How did he get it?” she asked, casually looking at some random book she picked up.

“I thought I’d told you that. He found it in the driveway where Rhonda threw it, and brought it down to me.”

Her eyes remained focused on the book as she nodded. “Yeah, I think you did say that. Are you sure Rhonda threw it?”

“Yeah, I watched her throw it.”

She looked at me, her lips pulled to the right side of her face. “Okay…”

“What gives?” I knew she had been holding something back, not that I had any room to judge.

She hesitated for a moment—her thin fingers slid through her Auburn hair along the top of her scalp. “Something doesn’t add up…” She paused again, searching my face for something. “I don’t think Rhonda’s wreck was an accident.”

“What?”
It was a freak accident, I’m sure of it.
“What do you mean?”

“You saw where it happened, right?” she asked.

“Yes, I went there with Gavin this weekend. I told you that already.”

“Did anything about the wreck strike you as being out of place or odd?”

What’s she fishing for?
I thought about it for a moment but didn’t know what she was talking about.

“No, nothing really. I mean, at first the missing guardrail seemed odd, but Gavin said the state was probably trying to fix some damage or something.”

Her face changed—she smiled like she’d won something. “That’s what my dad thought, too. But I overheard him talking to Mr. Adair at the hospital. The highway department said the guardrail had been removed, and recently, but not by them. Someone took twenty-five feet of it. They didn’t cut it loose and throw it in the woods, either. It was hauled away, posts and all.”

“Okay, so there’s a group of teenage boys out playing tricks. Guys steal street signs all the time—what does this have to do with Rhonda?”

Candace shook her head. “Maggie, think about that, who steals twenty-five feet of guard railing, along with the posts? There’s something else, but I have to show you.”

“Right now?”

“If you have time…”

“Okay, sure,” I said.

We drove straight from school and parked in a little driveway just down the hill. When we reached the missing rail, I looked around and tried to figure out why she’d dragged me here. I didn’t notice anything different than before.

“Do you see it?” she asked.

I looked again—I focused on the railing, the skid marks, the damaged trees—nothing. “See what?” I asked, giving up.

“Maggie, if you were going to steal the railing, how would you remove it?” she asked slowly, like she was speaking to a five-year-old with a learning disability.

“I’d unbolt a section, or cut it, I guess.”

“Exactly. Take a look and tell me how this was removed.”
Okay, Professor Fontaine.

I looked at the end of the remaining rail—it had been cut. The missing posts had been cut too, very cleanly. They were perfect cuts—no jagged edges, no file marks, no burns.

“Okay, they’re clean. Looks like they used something very sharp,” I said.

“I pointed that out to my dad, and he missed it too—don’t feel bad. The highway department told my father they had no idea what was used to cut these. There are no burn marks, so it wasn’t a cutting torch. And no shavings to suggest they’d been sawed. The guy at the highway department said the rail is too thick to pinch off with anything short of the Jaws of Life. He told Dad that giant pincers, like the Jaws of Life, bend the surface of the metal when they cut. They flatten the curves out and leave tool marks—these are perfect. Doesn’t it look like the railing just
disappeared
?”

As soon as she said it, I knew exactly why it bothered her. I had to admit, the railing did pose a mystery, but I didn’t know anything about cutting metal and I suspected she didn’t either.

“Okay, I’ll admit this is odd, but what does it have to do with anything?” I asked her.

“Do you see any boulders, ya know … like the one she avoided?”

“No.”

“Get this—it was there, in the middle of the road, when the police arrived. The officer who wrote the report described it as eight feet across and five feet tall. They used a bulldozer to move it to the median. Yet it was gone the next day. My dad assumes the highway department pushed it over the side, but it’s not there. Rhonda told me she wasn’t going that fast. She also said the boulder appeared out of nowhere. One minute the road was clear, the next minute…”

“Okay, I’m not trying to be mean, but isn’t it possible that she’s trying to make excuses because she totaled her mom’s Beamer?”

Candace smiled. “No, she hasn’t told anyone about the materializing boulder except Rachel and me—she didn’t think anyone would believe her. I know I already sound crazy, but she also said something pushed her car toward the railing. Maggie, she says … she swears … there wasn’t a missing section. I asked her about it, and she clearly remembers thinking the air bags would go off when she hit the rail, so she covered her face. She said she felt the car go over the edge and she looked up right before she hit the first tree. That’s all she remembers until she woke up Monday in ICU.”

“Maybe she’s mistaken. She hit her head pretty hard.”

Candace crossed her thin arms and shifted her weight. “And maybe she isn’t mistaken. Maggie, there’s something else. She said she was sitting at home, pissed at you, devastated that Doug dumped her—yeah, she told me the truth—and the last thing she wanted to do was to come to your party. She doesn’t have any idea how or why she ended up in your driveway.”

I thought about what she said. It sounded impossible, except I knew exactly how it could have happened—the Fae. But that simply didn’t make sense. Then something occurred to me.