The Garden of Darkness (40 page)
“I wish Master were deader,” said Mirri.
“He’s dead enough,” said Clare.
And Ramah wept.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
IN THE MEADOW
S
OME OF THE
children took over houses near Thyme House, but many of them, especially the young ones, brought sleeping bags and stayed with Clare and the others. They all doted on Becca’s baby girl. Becca had named her ‘Little Clare.’ After a long and, to the children, scary labor, Clare had delivered the baby. Clare had remained serenely confident throughout, which lent strength to Becca.
“I’m beginning to feel like a matriarch,” Clare said after it was all over.
“That’s how they’re beginning to think of you,” said Ramah.
“Charlie and Dante should be back with Tork and Myra and the others soon,” said Clare. “I think they’ll come to us. I really think they will. But I don’t know where we’re going to put them.”
“I think we’re going to have to build on an addition,” said Ramah. “Because Thyme House is now, officially, full.”
“If they come,” said Clare, “they’re going to make life interesting.”
Most of the children moved into the houses and cabins spread widely in the farm area. But Lee, a doctor’s son, and Sharon, who was good with mechanical things, and Dante, and even Britta, stayed with them at Thyme House. Britta seemed oddly lost, and she tended to wait until Ramah or one of the little ones told her what to do. At first Clare only spoke to Britta when she had to, and she only allowed her in the house at Ramah’s insistence.
“She’s damaged goods,” said Clare.
“We’re all damaged goods,” said Ramah. And Clare knew better than to try to win an argument with Ramah.
Tomorrow they were to talk about starting a school, and maybe beginning an apprentice system of study.
As they went their ways to bed, Clare remembered the early days with Jem and Sarai and Mirri. Pest had left them with only fragments of a world, but they had made a family.
Clare woke up in the night. Gently she slipped out from under Jem’s arm. She left him and Sarai and Mirri asleep, passed through the center room and quietly stepped over the sleeping children there. Outside, the meadow was flooded with moonlight. Pale moonflowers were open, and Clare breathed in their heavy scent. She walked through the garden until she came to the rock in the center.
The moon was full. Clare climbed up onto the rock and sat for a long time. Bird Boy would have liked to have seen how it all turned out, she thought. Bird Boy should not have died. He should not have died and broken Ramah’s heart. The moon was beautiful and cold. At midnight, Jem found her, and they went back into the house together.
THE END
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
A special thank you to Richard Curtis, agent
extraordinaire
, whose close reading helped me remove some of the darker jumble of the manuscript of
The Garden of Darkness
. Thank you, Richard, for being such a superb agent, indefatigable on the matter of placing a manuscript, tolerant of my exhilaration when it was placed and indescribably supportive. Thank you, too, for your great sense of humor.
It also gives me real pleasure to thank James Gunn, whose generosity of spirit brought Richard Curtis into my literary life. A luminary in the realm of science fiction, Jim promptly answered my first email to him and has warmly supported this book ever since.
To go back more years than I care to remember, I owe a deep debt of gratitude to Alec Shane, who, at the very beginning, plucked my manuscript from a slush pile, brushed it off and said something like “hmmm.” Alec gave my manuscript its first serious critical reading. And its second. And its third. And, without wilting, staunch to the end, its fourth. Without Alec’s sharp eye and guiding intelligence,
The Garden of Darkness
would never have seen light. Thanks, Alec.
Thank you also to the team at Rebellion/Ravenstone. Jonathan Oliver was always a pleasure to work with, and I can’t imagine a better editor. His suggestions were always acute; he’s a superb reader, and we bonded over commas. Ben Smith deserves a thank you for seeing this through and Michael Molcher a medal for his work on publicity. Luke Preece delivered, as promised, a superb cover. I’m so glad for the blue-greens, and the crows and the size of the dog. In short, for all of it.
Smith College has been my academic home for many years. I am grateful to Marilyn Schuster, who understands the importance of sabbaticals. Many colleagues have given me their support over the years, particularly Bill Oram (with his enthusiasm), Nancy Bradbury (who believed that it would happen) and Naomi Miller (fellow author and Shakespearean).
I am indebted to Jane Yolen, who helped me not only in my role as new author, but also in my life as an English professor at Smith College. Thanks, Jane, for your kindness and support. Jessica Brody is a good friend as well as a wonderful writer. Caroline Kendall Orszak, a marvelous reader, made me cut three chapters (yes, it had to be done), and is also my sister. Robert N. Watson is a dear friend and a supportive colleague who has guided me for years and years and years. My participation in the Stanford Creative Writing Workshop, set me on this path, and among many marvelous and influential writers in that program two faculty members deserve my special thanks: Nancy Packer and Robert Stone. Nancy Packer taught me from the sentence up (and I was married from her house), while Robert Stone, who can’t possibly remember me, once said, after reading one of my short stories, “If you can write an ending like this, you can be a writer.”
Thanks to Mimi, sometimes known as Irene Dorit—a wondrous mother-in-law—and to Murray Dorit, whose memory remains. A particular thanks to my parents, Carol Kendall and Paul Murray Kendall—both no longer with us—who were both writers. My mother wrote children’s books—one a Newbery honor book; my father was a distinguished historian who wrote, among many other things, the definitive biographies of Richard III and Louis XI. They encouraged my imagination and my voice from the outset, and for that—among many other things—I thank them. I’ve already thanked my sister, but that was for her skills as a reader; here I thank her for being my big sister. Finally, thank you to my two boys, Sasha and Gabriel, and to my husband, Rob Dorit, who did everything.
Gillian Murray Kendall
Gillian Murray Kendall
is a Full Professor at Smith College, where she specializes in Shakespeare and non-Shakespearean Renaissance Drama. She has two children, Sasha and Gabriel, and lives in Northampton, Massachusetts with her husband, biologist Robert Dorit. Gillian likes all gardens, dark and light.
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