The stranger laughed, an oddly choked sound. “Why do you always ask me that?”
It was the strangest thing, but Zada had the sudden impulseto take this dripping stranger’s hand in her hand and say something warm, something comforting. She wanted the stranger to smile, she realized. She wanted the stranger to laugh, wanted to hear that laugh right up against her ear like a secret, and it was all completely inappropriate. These were feelings meant for one’s spouse and no one else.
Zada breathed in and out. She closed her eyes and opened them again. She had the sense she was clinging to something by her fingernails, but she couldn’t fall. She couldn’t.
“You should go,” she said.
“Yeah,” said the stranger. She crossed the room and, with some trouble, lowered herself back out of the window. “Hey.” The stranger looked up at Zada with those deep brown eyes. The rain was starting to pour outside, but she didn’t seem to notice. “I’m sorry,” she said.
“Don’t be,” said Zada. “Tomorrow will be the happiest day of my life.”
She shut the window and lay on her bed, listening for the faint sounds of someone scrabbling down the wall outside. Eventually, the noises stopped, and Zada went to sleep.
Chapter Twenty-OneDawn
Zada woke up early in the morning, feeling unrested.
Something was missing. The instrument case still lay in the middle of the room. She cracked it open and stared down at an electric stringed instrument about the length and width of her thigh. With the certainty of something she’d dreamed, she knew this was a triple cello.
“Hey, Z.”
She glanced up. Her father was standing in her doorway. When she’d arrived home from Counseling, her door had been removed. She hadn’t asked where it had gone because it hadn’t seemed important.
It didn’t matter. She didn’t care. She had no secrets.
“I think I don’t remember something,” she said quietly. “I had it, and now I don’t.”
“That’s all right,” he said. “It’ll come back to you. Are you talking about your triple cello?”
She nodded.
“I always thought you played a little too much, to be honest,” her father told her. “It took away focus from the things in life that really matter. Maybe when things come back to you, you’ll be able to find a better middle ground. It’s all aboutbalance, you know?”
Zada couldn’t argue with that.
“Yes, of course,” she said.
“I just want you to be happy here,” said her father, smiling slightly as he turned to leave. “Can you help your mother carry down all those boxes of flowers? We’re hiring a hyper-carriage to take them to the hall.”
Zada nodded. She’d seen the boxes yesterday. They were enormous, large enough for a child to climb into, but not very heavy. That was good. It wouldn’t do to exert herself too much on the morning of her wedding. At the thought of it, she smiled. Her special day.
Zada glanced back at the instrument case, the one detail out of place for today, like a strand of hair that wouldn’t stop drifting into her eyes.
“It’s part of who you are,” the stranger had said. And she’d also said, “there’s no way they took all of you, forever.”
No part of her had been taken, she reminded herself. She was whole and in one piece, and she was going to be a bride. Her life was about to begin, and that meant she wasn’t sad, wasn’t confused, wasn’t missing something vital clinging to the edges of her memory like a melody stuck in her head. Something sweet and hesitant and openly romantic. She knew the song, but she didn’t remember learning it, didn’t remember her first time encountering it anywhere else in the world. So how—
“Zada?” her mother called.
Zada closed the instrument case with a snap. “Coming!”
The processional was absolutely gorgeous. Zada stood in the alcove of the grandest room in City Hall, savoring the sound. Her makeup, her brows, the pale blue ribbons trailing through her hair that her mother had carefully chosen, and her frothy white dress dripping with ruffles—every detail was perfect. Flora and Augusta had hugged her, tears in their eyes at the sight of her. They had solemnly promised to be the best matrons of honor they could be, and Zada had clapped her hands and smiled at them.
And here, now, it was all happening. She clutched her flowers and waited for her cue, completely at peace.
The moment came. Zada walked slowly down the aisle. Everyone stood to watch her advance. In the crowd, Zada saw her parents sitting in the front beside Buford’s parents. Behind them were her old classmates from Dalrymple and her beloved matrons of honor. Flora’s husband, Aiden, was the next row over, serving as the best man. And even Administrator Erskine was in attendance. What an honor.
Oh. The stranger from last night was there, too. She was standing to the side, sleek in a black suit, a cut high on her cheekbone. Zada’s stomach swooped at the sight of that slash of dark red, in freefall at the thought that this stranger might have injured herself climbing down Zada’s wall.
