The Peculiar Miracles of Antoinette Martin: A Novel (34 page)

Saturday night, Lily stood on a stepladder threading strings of white lights through the wisteria that grew over the gazebo. She stretched her fingers wide, waiting to feel the bones catch. Nothing.

Rose sat on the gazebo stairs, directing a flashlight beam toward the area where Lily worked. Antoinette was inside napping.

“Still good?” Will asked as he handed her another bunch of coiled lights. He had a faraway look in his eyes, as if preoccupied by a complex math equation.

“Perfect,” she said as she wound the lights through the garland of hydrangeas and roses she had made earlier and twined around the gazebo posts. Wreaths of apple blossoms and lilies draped over the rails. The crabapple trees in the house garden had burst into bloom that morning. The night was magic.

She imagined what the garden would look like tomorrow. People would mill about, stopping by Cora’s booth, or buying skeins of Teelia’s yarn. Seth would stand on the stage they had set up in the drying barn, playing his violin, switching smoothly between Vivaldi and bluegrass.

White tents sprouted throughout the garden, and despite the rain, the setup was successful. The only issue had been with Teelia’s set up and even that was minor.

That morning, Lily had closed the kitchen door and set the alarm before setting out to work. Only seconds later Teelia burst through the door, tripping the alarm.

“My tent ripped,” she yelled over the blaring noise. “I need to patch it. A garbage bag or something. The wool can’t get wet if it rains.”

Teelia ran through the kitchen, opening and closing cabinets, until Lily located the garbage bags for her. Lily wanted to remind her that rain wasn’t predicted for Sunday, but given Teelia’s agitated state she decided she probably wouldn’t pay attention anyway.

After that, the alarm had stayed off.

It was evening now, and most of the vendors were gone. Earlier in the day, the farm had been swarming with artists setting up tables for tomorrow’s show, but the majority had finished quickly. A few quilters remained, and Eli Cantwell had just arrived, but other than that the farm was empty.

Until now, Lily had never realized how many artists lived in Redbud. Among others, there was a woman selling handmade soaps and lotions, a silversmith who shaped wire into wrist cuffs, and a man with mounted butterflies in glass frames. Then there were the quilters—five women would have tables with quilts for sale at the show.

Lily grew up sleeping under thick covers her mother made, but her mother’s work was utilitarian, more for keeping the cold out than for displaying. But as Lily looked at the women unfolding appliquéd and embroidered quilts, she imagined her mother here.

“Mom would have loved the show this year,” Rose said as she aimed a flashlight beam at the tables.

“Shine it over here.” Lily gestured to the left where Seth had taped an extension cord up the side of the gazebo.

Rose shifted the flashlight beam, and Lily plugged in the lights. Then she sat back, squinted, and examined her work. It looked beautiful and romantic, like the stars had left heaven and taken up residence under the gazebo.

“Uh-oh,” Will said. He nodded at the stone path that led out of the house garden.

Eli Cantwell walked toward them. His face was skeletal, and the lights reflected off his pale skin.

“Want me to handle him?” Will asked.

“No, I’ll take care of this.” Rose’s voice was light, but she pressed a hand to her chest.

Will held out his hand to help her stand and walk down the gazebo steps.

“It’s a good thing the rain stopped,” Rose said when Eli was a few feet away. Her words sounded forced. “Do you have everything you need to set up?”

“MaryBeth is worse,” Eli said. He stopped a hand’s length from Rose. He was close enough for Lily to see his knuckles whiten as he clenched his hands into fists.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Rose said, grief in her voice. “Is she here?” She looked past Eli’s shoulder, as if hoping MaryBeth was behind him.

It was strange seeing Eli without MaryBeth, Lily thought. They were always together.

Eli shook his head. What little hair he had stuck out in wild tufts. “She’s shaking so bad she can’t hold a cup of water. Spills it all over herself.”

“I’m sorry,” Rose said. “I know how hard this must be for you.”

“No, you don’t,” Eli said. He poked a finger at her. “If you did, you’d help us.”

“That’s enough,” Will said, but Eli didn’t stop.

“You look awfully healthy for someone with a heart condition,” he said. “You’re still here—what? Ten years later?”

Lily started counting. She had never felt nervous around Eli before, but he was different now. Angry. Scared.

Rose held out her hand. “You don’t understand—”

Eli shoved her hand aside. “I know what your girl can do. It’s not right to keep her all to yourself.”

Lily stopped counting and scrambled down the ladder. No one touched her sister like that.

“I think you should go,” Will said. He stepped in front of Rose.

“You
know
us.” Eli stared at Rose, his eyes pleading. “MaryBeth loves your little girl. How can you let her die?” On the word
die
his voice cracked.

“You don’t understand,” Rose repeated quietly.

“I understand perfectly. You’re letting my wife die!”

Lily took Will’s place in front of Rose. “Eli, stop,” she said. “You know we love MaryBeth. If we could help her, we would.”

“I know what I saw.” He nodded at Lily’s hand. “It was broken. I saw it. Then Antoinette touched you and it was fine.”

Rose was shaking. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Eli took a step toward Rose.

“You need to stop this,” Will said, iron in his voice.

Eli didn’t listen. He stepped around Will and reached for Rose. “Help us.
Please
.”

“Leave.” This time, Will put his hand on Eli’s chest and pushed until the older man backed away, then turned, and disappeared into the night.

Lily touched Rose’s shoulder. “Are you okay?” she asked.

Rose’s eyes glistened. “ALS is complicated. Healing MaryBeth could kill Antoinette. I can’t let her do that.”

“Of course not,” Lily said, although she couldn’t help but wish that it were otherwise.

Rose rubbed her eyes. “I need to check on Antoinette. I’ll also ask Seth to make sure Eli’s gone.”

“I’ll come with you,” Lily said.

Rose shook her head and pressed her lips into a tight smile. Lily thought it was meant to be reassuring, but Rose’s eyes were bright with tears. “I need some time alone,” she said, and walked away.

Lily watched Rose until she faded from sight. “Do you think she’ll be okay?” she asked Will.

“She’s keeping her daughter safe. She’ll be fine.”

Lily wasn’t sure. “What about Eli? If he won’t leave—”

“Have you seen Seth? The guy’s got arms like tree trunks. Eli might be upset, but he’s no fool.”

“I hope you’re right,” Lily said. She squinted into the darkness, straining to see whether Eli was still there.

Will sat down on the gazebo steps and patted the spot next to him. “The stars aren’t this bright in the city. In thirty-five years I don’t think I noticed them. Thirty-five years, and I never looked up. How sad is that?”

“You’re looking now,” Lily said, grateful for Will’s attempt to distract her. He was right. Eli was upset, but he wasn’t a real threat.

“Too little, too late, Lils.” He flipped his hair out of his eyes. “Did you know that when a star goes supernova and explodes, a new star is born? The force of the explosion shoves clouds of hydrogen and helium molecules together. Gravity makes the clouds collapse and rotate. Once the heat and pressure reach a certain point, a new star is created from the old one.

“It’s a transfer of energy from one place to another—ashes to ashes, and dust to dust, just on a much larger stage. One star dies. Another is born. Energy can’t be created or destroyed, but it can be transformed.”

He grew thoughtful. “What if it’s something like that?”

“What?” Lily frowned, not following him.

“Antoinette’s ability . . .” He shook his head as if to clear it. “I had the thread of a thought, but I lost it.”

Lily sat down and leaned her head against his shoulder. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said.

“I am too.” He stared at her for several long moments, and for the first time since she had known him he looked nervous. “Does he tell you you’re beautiful?” he finally asked.

“Who?” Her answer was reflexive, but immediately she understood.

“Seth. Does he know how soft your skin is?” He traced his finger across her cheek.

Despite the tingle of electricity skipping across her skin, she caught his hand. “Don’t.” She saw expectation in his eyes, and her heart ached knowing she was about to hurt him. “I love Seth. I always have. And I love you too—just not in the same way.”

Giving voice to her feelings unlocked something inside of her, and she finally realized how foolish she had been to push Seth away. All because she was afraid of getting hurt. It was the same thing she did the first time Rose had asked for her help with Antoinette.

No more. Fear had already occupied too much of her life.

Will tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, then ran his fingers down her neck to the hollow of her throat. His movements were small and tentative.

She froze, unsure whether to lean into him or turn away. “I’m not like the girls you bring back to your house.”

He leaned forward until their foreheads were almost touching. “I know. Why do you think I’ve wanted to do this from the first time I saw you?”

“Will, don’t.” She put her hands on his chest. “It won’t be real. It’s not fair to you.”

“Let me decide what’s fair to me. Just once, Lils. Give me one moment when everything is perfect.”

The wind began to blow, picking up a swirl of apple blossom petals and dusting them across his shoulders. Lily lightly brushed them off, leaving her hand on his shoulder. “It won’t be true,” she repeated. “I’m sorry. I love Seth.”

“Ah Lils, haven’t you learned? There’s more than one version of truth. Let me have my version. Besides, I’ve been told I’m a pretty good kisser.”

She believed him, but that wasn’t why she let him press his lips to hers. It was because she remembered his fingers on her cheek, catching her tears after Rose called that first time. She remembered the nights he held her as she cried when her parents died. And she remembered sitting with him through his chemo treatments, when his fear was so heavy she could almost touch it.

She could give him this. She let him hold her close. He slid one hand around her hip and ran the other up her back. He was right. He
was
good at this.

The kiss was long and slow and held all the words they would never say to each other.

THE MOON HUNG
in the sky when Lily left Will sitting at the gazebo. It rose above the treetops, speaking of second chances and hope. But it also spoke of regret.

Will had kissed her. It was beautiful and bittersweet, nothing at all like Seth’s kisses, which were aggressive and passionate. When she pulled away from Will, she had pressed her hand against his lips and whispered, “I’m sorry.”

She loved Will. Through the years of silence from Rose, he had been her only friend. But when she pictured herself sitting on the porch swing at eighty, it was Seth who sat beside her, not Will.

Lily had loved Seth from the beginning, when they were still children. He tied her life together—the good parts and the bad—and that, she realized, was worth risking everything for.

With Will’s kiss still on her lips, she started down the flagstone path. A thin beam of light shone beneath the drying barn door. Seth must be in there, raking the cedar shavings and hanging fresh lavender from the rafters for the show tomorrow.

“Seth?” she called as she opened the door. No one answered. She walked deeper into the barn.

Everything was in place: the stage was set up; flowers hung from the rafters; white cloths covered the tables. But the barn was empty.

Lily sighed. Seth probably forgot to turn out the light. She flipped the switch, plunging the barn into darkness. Once outside again, she decided to go to the creek. She was too restless to go back to the house.

Trees overtook the fields, but moonlight flickered through their canopy, lighting her way. Still, it was dark, and she was cautious, stretching her feet in front of her, searching for the stone path to the creek.

Reaching the water, she rolled her jeans to her knees, then waded in. The creek was stinging cold, and she gasped. The water was lower here than farther down the stream, but with the recent rains even here the creek was deep.

She waded out to the flat rock that jutted from the middle of the creek. When they were kids, Seth, Lily, and Rose would lie on the rock, their heads touching as they watched the sky, calling out shapes they found in the clouds above them.

Tonight the moon draped everything in blue-white light. Lily lay back and put her arm over her eyes. She was almost asleep when a splash to her left startled her. “Who’s there?” she asked as she lurched upright.

“Lily?”

Instead of slowing, her heart sped at the sound of Seth’s voice. “What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Same as you, I suppose.” He crossed the creek and stood at the base of the rock. “Mind if I come up?”

“Suit yourself,” she said, scooting over to make room for him.

He pulled himself up in one fluid motion. Moonlight outlined his profile, painting him black and silver.

“I saw the light in the barn,” she said. “I stopped in, but you weren’t there.” She pressed her knees into her chest and wrapped her arms around them. If she touched him now, she knew she would never let go.

“I must have forgotten to turn it out.” In the dim light she could trace the planes of his face, the small wrinkles around his mouth, at the corners of his eyes, and across his forehead.

“Rose told me what happened with Eli,” he said, placing his elbows on his knees. “I was walking the farm to make sure he’s gone when I saw you walk past.”

“Is he?”