“I’m all right,” she sobs. “I’mbetterthan all right.” Her eyes meet mine. “Edgar,” my mother marvels, “my headache is gone.”
DELILAH
This must be what it feels like to be superhuman.
Every sense is firing at once. Even with my eyes closed, I can see each color in the rainbow. I feel the change in heat in my body as Oliver’s arms close around me. I run my fingertips along the velvet of his tunic, marking every stitch.
I am soaring through the universe, rootless, groundless, spinning.
I’m glowing, like I’ve swallowed a star.
And when I finally fall back to Earth, it’s a safe landing, because I know he’ll catch me.
“So,” Oliver whispers, brushing my hair back. “I heard it’s going to rain tomorrow.”
I expected a profession of love, or at least a hello. Not a weather report. “What?”
He grins. “I just want the first words I say to you, here, to betotally ordinary. Something I might say to you if I were going to see you tomorrow and the next day and the day after that.”
Suddenly I’m smiling. It’s what I told him when we said goodbye, but with one critical change: Iamgoing to see him tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that.
Joy bubbles inside me; it feels like champagne in my veins. “Perhaps,” I reply, parroting what Oliver once said to me, “it will be sunny on Wednesday.” And I kiss him again.
Gradually I become aware of the rest of the world: the sound of conversation picking up, the clatter of plates and forks as cake is passed around, the smell of burned wax from the birthday candles.
Oliver won’t let go of me. He glances from my tiara to the hem of my gown and smiles broadly. “Brilliant dress.”
“I thought you might like it. . . .”
Suddenly Jules grabs my shoulder. “Um, if you lovebirds can spare a minute, there’s a queen we have to hide.”
Breaking away, I glance at my mother to make sure she’s occupied—and see her serving cake. I grab Oliver’s hand and drag him behind me as I follow Jules to the bathroom. She knocks softly, and the door opens.
Queen Maureen has turned on the faucet in the sink and is flushing the toilet. “Have youseenthis, Oliver?” she asks, delighted. “Where does the water come from?”
“It worked,” I breathe. “They’re both gone.”
Jules looks away. “Yeah.”
“We must get you dressed,” Oliver says. “Remember?”
Queen Maureen nods. She too has been informed of theplan. She will dress in the spare set of scrubs Jules brought for her and then Jules will drive her home.
“My dear,” she says to me, “would you mind unlacing my stays?”
I take the scrubs from Jules and disappear into the bathroom with Queen Maureen. She turns around and I pull at the bows on her gown, loosening it. She steps out of the dress, and I help her pull the scrubs top on. “Now that Oliver’s not here,” she whispers, hiking up the baggy pants and tying them at her waist, “might I ask you something?”
“Of course,” I say.
“Seraphima told me of this magical place you took her. Might we go to this . . . mall?”
I laugh, twisting her braids into the surgical cap so that the color—darker than Jessamyn’s—is hidden. I make a mental note to buy her some hair dye. “Absolutely,” I promise. “We have all the time in the world.”
When we step outside (after a few flicks of the light switch so Maureen can experience the miracle of electricity), I find Jules sitting on the floor, her back against the wall, and Oliver missing. I tamp down the immediate panic that swells in me. I have to be able to let him out of my sight without freaking out every single time and assuming he’s been sucked into the story again.
Jules looks up at me. “Relax. I sent him back downstairs to say goodbye to the people who are leaving. It’s weird if the birthday boy isn’t even at his own party.” Then she turns to Maureen, surveying her critically. “I think you’ll pass. But we’d better get out of here quickly so we’re not tempting fate.”
I turn to Maureen. “Can you give us a minute?” Rummaging in the folds of my princess gown, I pull out my phone and thrust it toward her. “Here,” I say. “Knock yourself out.”
