The Evensong (6 page)

Omar shook his head to himself, laughing slightly. He leaned in close to the paper in front of him, nose almost touching the surface as he strategically smeared pastel.

“So you didn’t get a name?” he asked. He’d graciously been talking about anything but the events of my afternoon, though I could tell he was just as curious as everyone else.

“Nope,” I replied. “Go ahead, take a guess at it.”

“Hm. Dexter.”

I laughed, thinking it was definitely not fitting of Stranger—the name I preferred to use in my own head.

“You know, he was in the library earlier for an hour or so,” Omar said, dropping the pastel he held. He sat up straight, stretching his back as he stood. “He didn’t check anything out though.”

“That’s great, Omar, but I really don’t care,” I replied, flipping the page of the comic I’d been skimming. “Maybe Alysana would want to know. Heck, even Justine.”

He sighed and sat next to me, putting his hands behind his head. Downstairs, mostly everyone was gathered around the kitchen table doing homework while Alysana tried to make dinner and stay in charge. Rene had left the house earlier and still hadn’t come back. She didn’t said where she was going, which made me suspect she was up to something, but what, I didn’t know.

“When is your ceremony happening?” Omar asked.

“So you’ve already forgotten my birthday?” I replied. “You’re not even out of the house and it’s slipped your mind . . .”

“You know what I mean, am I going to have to take off work to be there?”

“Oh—yeah, probably. I think it’s happening in the morning,” I replied. He nodded thoughtfully before saying he would arrange it with his boss. He was about to go on when we both heard the front door fling open and slam shut. Rene yelled something, and I stood, not bothering to wait for Omar. I paused at the stairs, just listening. The kitchen had gone quiet, except for Alysana’s soft voice.

“What happened?” Omar asked quietly, standing behind me. I shrugged wordlessly, going down the stairs.

Rene was still standing by the door when I stopped at the bottom of the stairs. Her hair was wind-whipped, partially covering her face as she toweled off a little girl’s hair.

“Another one,” Omar muttered as he walked past me.

“Alysana,” Rene called towards the kitchen, “put water on the stove, and find a calming tea.”

I stood where I was, watching as Rene let her coat fall to the floor. The girl looked terrified; her eyes were huge under her wet, tangled hair.

“Come on, sweet pea,” Rene said, taking her hand. She dragged her towards the kitchen while I followed.

Nine residents of the house sat around the long kitchen table. Alysana was bustling around, frantically putting together dried herbs for tea. I hovered near the back of the room, watching as Hunter gave up his seat for the girl.

“Everyone,” Rene started as she lifted the girl into the chair. “This is Beau—she’s going to be living with us now.”

It was a familiar statement, but one I hadn’t heard for nearly a year. This girl, Beau, was much younger than anyone I’d seen here. She looked ten, or maybe younger.

There was a chorus of mumbled hellos, and Rene introduced every one of us. Beau hardly seemed to care; she sat stiff in the chair, still scared. Alysana put a full cup of tea in front of her, gauging her reaction. Tears were starting to well up in Beau’s huge blue eyes. Rene noticed and scooped her up immediately. The tea floated after her as she rushed Beau out of the room.

“I wonder what’s going on,” Alysana said after a long silence. “She seems a little . . . panicky.”

“Wonder where she’s going to sleep,” I replied, thinking to myself. I hoped she wouldn’t try to put her in my room. I liked having the place to myself.

“Probably with Justine and Hank, if there’s enough room,” Alysana replied as everyone else started talking again.

“Did she tell you she was going after another one?” I asked, leaning against the wall. Rene usually alerted us when someone else was going to be moving in.

Alysana shook her head. “Nope. She didn’t mention anything. She just rushed out of here and came back with Beau.”

I bit my lip in thought, wondering what was wrong with this month. First the whole thing with Stranger, now a peculiarly frantic Rene. I hoped it would all be over by the time my ceremony came around. I was nervous about it as it was, but worrying about other things would make it worse.

Everyone was a little uneasy the rest of the night. I ate a meager dinner with Alysana and Omar while we watched movies. I could hardly concentrate though; my mind was on the next morning. It was still raining a little outside, so I hoped Stranger might have been wrong about the rain.
If it’s raining at all in the morning, I won’t go,
I promised myself before I went to bed.

Unfortunately, I didn’t get much sleep at all. In the next room—reserved for the younger kids—Beau was crying through most of the night.

Walking to the swamps the next morning, I stared up at the sky, wondering why it was against me. There was no sign of any blue, just deep gray, almost lavender. It smelled faintly of rain, but I attributed that to the storm that had come around at midnight. The ground was still wet, and everything would stay damp until the clouds disappeared.

My shoes left diamond patterns in the unpaved road as I walked. There was no sign of Stranger yet. At least, not that I could see of him. The wall of trees could be skewering my view, so I kept my eyes down on the ground. I wondered what we would do while walking around the place. There wasn’t all that much now that I thought about it. I went there to project, and he obviously couldn’t do the same. Say I told him about me, I could take him with me, but that was strictly against any laws I knew. So what then? Talk about him some more maybe?

Soon, I’d stepped into the dripping trees and the soggy ground. Looking around, I didn’t see Stranger at first, but as I walked closer to the spot I called my own, I found him sitting on the same fallen log I usually occupied. He looked over his shoulder at me and smiled, moving over and gesturing to the spot next to him.

“Sorry—didn’t mean to steal your spot,” he said as I hesitated next to him.

“It’s fine,” I said, sitting down. I stared out at the familiar scene ahead of me, aware that he was watching me. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. “So—this is it.”

“Yeah. It’s a good view of the place,” he said, following my gaze. “But not the whole thing. Have you ever walked through it all?”

I shrugged, fiddling with the zipper of my hoodie. “Most of it, I think.”

“Alone?”

“Yeah,” I replied, briefly glancing at him. “My friends don’t exactly like it that much.”

“That’s crazy,” he laughed, picking at the long grass growing next to him. “I love this place.”

I laughed weakly, embarrassingly nervous.

“Come on,” Stranger said, standing, “I’ll show you my favorite places. They’re kind of across the place, but it’s not that far.”

He offered a hand, and I looked at the tattoos peeking out from under the sleeve of his jacket. It reminded me of something—something tied to the swamps—but I couldn’t quite recall it. So I took his hand, letting him pull me to my feet.

I followed him down the edges of the swamp, stepping in the impressions his shoes made in the sponge-like ground. We passed by everything familiar; trees I’d marked in my mind to just remember where I was going. It was easy to get lost here, but Stranger led the way like he’d done it a million times, like me. Walking around one bend of trees, we had to balance on a precarious edge, one that slanted down into the murky water. Stranger held his arms out for balance while I just gripped the few thin branches that came every now and then. I almost slipped in once, and my right shoe was partially soaked.

“You okay?” Stranger asked, stopping to turn and look at me.

“Fine,” I replied, embarrassed. I shook some of the water off, but I could feel it seeping into my sock.

“You haven’t ever gone this way, have you?”

I gripped the next branch and kept moving, stopping when I stood next to him. “No, but it’s all the same to me. Ready?”

He grinned and nodded, facing forward again. I was slightly annoyed by his positive attitude, but it could have been an effect of being embarrassed by my near-catastrophe. That would have been brilliant . . . me falling into the swamp, coming up soaked and stinking of stagnant water. At least there was that little handful of meager branches to help me out.

Passing the balancing act, we walked on solid ground again, and I was beginning to wonder where he was going. The trees were starting to thin out, signaling the edge of the swamp. But he stopped at a sort of small cove-like area where the trees hung with lacey moss and ferns lined the shore.

“This is one of them,” he said, stopping and spreading his arms wide. “If the water were in better condition, I’d definitely swim.”

“It is nice,” I admitted, walking towards the edge. The water even seemed a little clearer here. If the sun were out, it would have come through the opening in the canopy of trees, lighting the ground where I stood.

“And it’s close to home,” Stranger added.

“It is?” I asked, frowning as I turned around. Looking past him, I only saw more trees, though they were getting sparse in that direction. He nodded and turned around, walking the opposite way. I paused, but then went after him.

Coming out of the trees, I saw we had come to a further side of the town where the people preferred more seclusion. The houses were space far apart, though there was one right in front of me. The white two-story home was almost on the very edge of the swamp itself.

“Wow,” I said the second I saw it. “That’s where you live?”

“Yeah,” Stranger smiled, rocking back and forth on his heels.

“Alone?”

He nodded as we kept walking towards the front door. He said he didn’t mind it at all since he was used to being somewhat solitary. I just nodded, still staring at the place in amazement. It was beautiful, really. The framework was subtle but elegant, and pillars surrounded the wraparound porch. A wicker table was on the front porch as well as a swing, which was peeling white paint over the floor. As we climbed the stairs, I came out of my amazement in time to see the little red sachet hanging over the door.

“What’s that?” I asked, interrupting something he was saying.

“What?” He looked to where I was pointing before opening the door. “Oh that. Just something I got from someone. It’s kind of a protection thing.”

It was similar to something Rene might do, but there was no way he was like us. You could tell with all people, and he definitely didn’t give off any of that feeling.

I passed through the doorway into the house, finding myself in between the living room and the kitchen. The setup was a little like Rene’s home, though it seemed so much bigger. It looked like Stranger had put some time into making it his own though. There were paintings on the walls, some framed, some not, and a few miscellaneous items that made me wonder about him; a bundle of dried flowers hung from one corner at the ceiling. All the furniture looked antique, like the paisley-patterned couch and the fraying tassels on the curtains.

“Did you furnish it all?” I asked as I drifted into the living room.

“Hell no,” Stranger replied. “All of this was my great uncle’s. I’m still filling it up with some of my stuff; make it feel more homey.”

I looked at the flimsy curtains and the pressed flower teacups in a nearby cabinet. If this was the only room I’d seen so far, I was betting the others were just as great. There was a kind of faded beauty to it all, and it already felt pretty homey to me.

“You’re really lucky, you know,” I commented, looking up at him.

“That’s what everyone tells me,” he replied as he went to the kitchen. “Want some tea? It’s iced.”

“Sure,” I replied, drifting to the cabinet of teacups and china. There was a glass tray with butterflies at the bottom and some silver sugar tongs layered with dust. I wondered if he ever planned on using any of it.

He returned with two glasses full of red tea and ice. I thanked him as I took one and sipped. It reminded me of summer and the hot, damp days in July.

“I’m addicted to this stuff,” he said as he flopped onto the couch. “I think that’s one of the perks of settling down: being able to make sun tea whenever I want.”

“Settling down?” I repeated, sitting in a small armchair beside the couch.

“Yeah, I’m used to traveling a lot. Sort of just living out of my car, stopping to live with people every now and then.”

“Sounds like a fun time,” I said, imagining him in a car, window down, one arm dangling out.

He shrugged. “Yeah, being a drifter’s all right. I just need to get used to this.” He gestured to the entire room before downing the last of his tea.

“Do you think you’ll miss it? Drifting?” I asked.

He shrugged smoothly, putting his glass on the coffee table. “Probably. I already feel restless sometimes. But would you have passed up this place?”

“No way,” I replied, “I’d just feel sort of lonely out here, especially since the house is so big.”