The Peculiar Miracles of Antoinette Martin: A Novel (36 page)

She did, but Eli was scaring her. She wanted her mother. She shook her head hard.
No!
she thought.
I want my mommy!

Eli pulled her into the woods, pushing aside tree branches. He was too strong. She struggled, but she couldn’t break free. “I know what you can do. Your mama won’t admit it, but I saw it. You healed MaryBeth, but she’s sick again. I need you to fix her for good this time.”

Eli was moving so fast she couldn’t keep up with him. Her feet tangled, and she stumbled. She went down hard, scraping her knees on exposed tree roots. She cried out in pain.

“Antoinette?” her mother yelled. “Is that you? Are you okay?”

“I think she’s over here,” Will said, sounding much closer now.

“We’re coming,” her mother yelled. “Just stay there!”

Eli pulled her up. “Please,” he said, his eyes wet with tears. “I can’t lose MaryBeth. She’s all I have. Help us.”

There was a rustling in the trees on the creek bank. Antoinette strained toward the sound, her mother’s face filling her mind.

“Come on.” Eli tugged, but she couldn’t get to her feet.

Then someone crashed through the trees and grabbed her free hand. At the touch, electricity shot through her, and two songs roared to life in her ears. The first was sad and dissonant, the notes in a minor key. The second was familiar.

Will’s.

“Let go of her!” Will said, pulling her hand.

But Eli held on to her hand. “I need her help. Just for a little bit. Please. Let her come with me. I’ll bring her right back.”

Black spots dotted Antoinette’s vision, and her hands were scalding where Will and Eli touched her. She couldn’t think with both songs in her head. The discordant music competed for her attention, commanding that she do something.

She concentrated on the spot where Eli’s hand gripped her. As when she had touched Lily’s hand at Cora’s, his song became louder.

Then she turned her focus to Will’s hand, and his song flared to life. In one spot, the notes were off. Surprised, Antoinette realized that Will was sick. Very sick. In fact, he was almost as sick as her mother. Almost as a reflex, she grabbed Will’s wrong notes—not all of them, there were too many—and pushed them into Eli.

At the same time, Seth crashed through the woods, Lily following right behind. “Get off her, Eli,” Seth said. He grabbed Antoinette, pulling her free from both Eli and Will. Her connection to both men broke and the songs faded.

Then her mother was there. She touched Antoinette’s face, her arms, her hands. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

Antoinette tried to answer, but the world blinked black and white. Her mother’s face disappeared and reappeared in quick flashes.

“Why couldn’t you leave her alone?” her mother cried.

Antoinette’s vision was fading and she was starting to shake, but she could still make out her mother’s voice.

“She’s not strong enough to do this. If she keeps seizing like this, she’ll die. You could have killed her!”

“I didn’t know . . . I would never.” Eli sounded shocked. “I just thought . . . MaryBeth is dying—”

“And now Antoinette might be,” her mother said. “Put her down, Seth. Roll her onto her side.”

Antoinette felt the earth beneath her and hands on her side, rolling her over. She was shaking, but she was still conscious.

“Eli,” Lily said softly. “You know we love MaryBeth. If we could help her, we would. But Antoinette can’t keep doing this. The seizures are getting worse. Soon one of them might kill her.”

“I didn’t know,” Eli said, his voice tight. “I swear, I didn’t know. I would never hurt Antoinette.”

Will knelt beside her, examining her. All of a sudden, he frowned; then his eyes widened in surprise as if something had just clicked into place.

“You’re a conduit,” he said, only loud enough for her to hear. “The sickness doesn’t disappear, you just move it from one person to another. Matter can’t be destroyed, only transformed. That’s what you’re doing. Transforming the illness by moving it.”

Antoinette’s last sight, before the world went black, was of Lily, appearing over Will’s shoulder. He turned to face her. “I figured it out,” he said.

Chapter Thirty

On Sunday evening, white lights winked among the hydrangea vines growing up the sides of the gazebo. To Lily, the garden felt alive. Anticipation buzzed through the crowd gathered for the show. Every once in a while a person looked up, as if expecting the plants to grow legs and walk among them.

Who knew? Lily thought. Given what had been happening there lately, maybe they would.

Strangers and locals milled about the garden, stopping every few feet to stare at one of Rose’s paintings or run their fingers through Teelia’s hand-dyed alpaca yarn. Lily’s favorite booth was the glass blower’s.

Earlier that evening, she stood in the shadows with her head on Seth’s chest, watching as a man twirled liquid fire at the end of a long metal stick. Somehow the orange blaze at the end of the pole transformed into a glass bowl with bright green streaks running up the sides.

Seth bought it for her. “So you’ll remember this night.”

As if she could forget.

He was in the drying barn now, playing for a full crowd. Tonight he eschewed the classics and chose old-time fiddling, some traditional tunes, but mostly bluegrass. She looked toward the barn and felt her face glow.

“He’ll be beside you soon enough,” Will said. He sat on the bench that ran the length of the gazebo.

Antoinette stretched up on her tippy-toes. She didn’t wear shoes, and her skin was so pale her feet gleamed in the reflected light. Lily looked from Antoinette to Will.

Deliberately changing the subject, she gestured toward the people crowding the garden. “I didn’t realize it would be as nice as this,” she said. “No wonder Rose insisted on having the show.” Right now, Rose was back at the house, resting and recovering from the effort involved with hosting the party.

Will watched Antoinette tiptoe around the gazebo. “Your sister’s smart. I’d make a lot of the same decisions she has.”

High praise from Will.

Lily cut a piece of lavender bread from the loaf on the stairs next to her and popped it in her mouth. It was sweet and a little lemony. Rose was right; it tasted like love.

She held out a piece to Will, but he shook his head.

Lavender was an herb like basil or oregano, but most people didn’t think to cook with it. She turned to Antoinette. “Want some?”

Antoinette flapped her hands and took the bread. That morning, as she walked through the farm, marigolds had bloomed in her footsteps.

Marigolds meant grief.

Except for a light bruise circling Antoinette’s wrist, she seemed untouched by her encounter the night before with Eli, but Lily wasn’t. Eli’s horror upon realizing the price Antoinette paid for healing was matched by his grief when he realized that nothing could help MaryBeth.

Antoinette closed her eyes while she chewed the lavender bread, as if shutting off her other senses helped her enjoy it more.

“It’s good, isn’t it?” Lily said. Antoinette flapped her hands.

Lily thought back to her conversation with Will last night, when he tried to explain how Antoinette’s ability worked. “No wonder the seizures were getting worse,” she said. “One little girl can’t hold all of that sickness.”

Will nodded, picking up on her thought. “It was overloading her system.” He paused for a moment, thoughtful. “When she’s the only one touching a sick person, she absorbs the illness. But when she’s touching
two
people, she pulls the sickness out of one person and deposits it in the other. It’s still a strain on her, though. That’s why she seizes.”

“I should have known you’d figure it out,” Lily said, smiling up at him.

He didn’t return her smile, though. Instead, he reached for her hand. “I’m better for you than he is. I mean really, choosing a farm boy over a doctor? How does that happen?” He twisted his mouth into a tight grin.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” She put both her hands around his.

“Can’t help the way you feel, Lils, and neither can I. But maybe you could kiss me and make it better?” A string of lights over him winked out, covering them both in sudden shadows.

She kissed him on the cheek. Then she rested her forehead against his. “I’m sorry.”

Will brushed his fingers down her face, then dropped his hand to his side. “You’re not coming home, are you?”

She shook her head and swallowed. She hadn’t wanted to tell him until later. “This is home. It always has been; I just didn’t realize it until now. I’ve already called work and told them I’m not coming back.”

“What will I tell our neighbor, Soup Can Artist? He’ll be distraught.”

She looked into his eyes, and for a moment she was lost. “Tell him I’ll miss him every single day.” She laid her head on his chest. His heartbeat was strong and reassuring.

The sky seemed darker than it had a few minutes ago, and she wondered whether a storm was coming. The air felt electric.

Antoinette came up behind her. She tapped Lily’s shoulder and then pointed to the house. “Mmmm,” she said. “Mmmm.” She jabbed the air again and again.

“You want to go home?” Lily asked. “You miss your mom?”

Antoinette stumbled down from the gazebo steps. She pointed to the house again.

“Okay,” Lily said. “Let’s go see your mom.” Will followed them.

The night air grew thick. The crowd sounded louder. Antoinette threaded her fingers through Lily’s hand. In a moment the house came into view.

Rose sat on the porch swing, but something was off. She was too still. “Oh God,” Lily said, “something’s wrong.”

Will was already halfway up the steps. Lily swung Antoinette up into her arms and ran after him.
Please
, she prayed.
Please. Please. Please.

They were too late. Rose was unconscious. Her cheeks were pale and her lips blue. Lily set Antoinette down and knelt beside her sister. “Rose? Rose?” Lily shook her hand. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.

Will pressed his fingers against Rose’s neck, searching for a pulse. “It’s there, but barely.”

Antoinette stretched past Lily and took her mother’s hand. “No, Antoinette.” Lily tried to pull her away, but Antoinette wouldn’t let go. When they touched, Lily felt a strange buzzing beneath her skin. “I can’t let you do that. I promised to keep you safe.”

Antoinette growled and bit Lily on the wrist.

Lily tightened her grip, and the buzzing grew louder. “No, Antoinette. I promised her. I won’t let you do this.”

“Let her try.” Will pulled Lily away from Antoinette.

Lily struggled. “No! I can’t let her do this. I promised Rose I’d keep her safe.” She didn’t realize she was crying until she looked up and couldn’t see Will through her tears.

“And you will,” he said. He kissed the top of her head. “Don’t forget I love you, Lils.” He took Antoinette’s free hand. Instead of pulling her away from Rose, he leaned down and said, “Send it to me.”

“No!” Lily yelled as she realized what he was doing. She dug her fingers into his shoulders, but he shook her loose.

“Death always wins in the end, Lils,” he said. “Somebody’s got to lose.” He locked eyes with Antoinette. “Send it to me. All of it.”

Chapter Thirty-One

ONE YEAR LATER

Wind skittered over Antoinette’s skin, but she didn’t twitch or flap. She kept her arms at her sides, even when the breeze lifted the hem of her white dress, and it fluttered around her knees. Around her, the land sang of new beginnings and old friends.

She closed her eyes so that she could hear every note. Today it sounded like the violins in Pachelbel’s Canon in D. She swayed and raised her hands to the sun, letting the song flow through her and back to the land.

When she opened her eyes, the green hills were brighter, and the wild roses growing along the white-plank fence encircling the cemetery were sunset pink. Normally, the roses wouldn’t flower for another month, but last year, after the funeral, Antoinette had pushed her hands into the dirt and they sprang to life. They hadn’t stopped blooming since. Even bowed under a blanket of December snow, the pink petals shone like the spots on a butterfly’s wing.