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THIRTY-ONE
Liam was right that things were different in the New Year. Even though classes didn’t start until the second week of January, the town started coming back to life in that first week. I heard it in the scrape of shovels and the cheery shouts of “Happy New Year” as my vacationing neighbors returned to find their driveways blocked by snow. I saw it in theCLOSED FOR THE HOLIDAYS!signs removed and replaced withNEW YEAR’S SPECIALS!signs in the stores downtown. Our idyll was coming to an end.
I also sensed a change in Liam. At first I thought he was trying to make up for his display of possessiveness by giving me the space I’d asked for, but then I saw that he was the one who’d become restless and in need of that space. Seemingly whole woodsfull of it. He went out for long walks by himself in the morning—searching, he told me, for the inspiration to write a poem—but he came back looking more agitated than when he’d left. Once, when I watched him from my desk window crossing the yard, I saw him look back over his shoulder with a scowl as if he were angry at the woods for failing to give him the material for a poem. And another time I greeted him when he came into the kitchen and he looked up at me with the startled eyes of a fox caught snatching a chicken. It occurred to me that he probably needed a little time to himself. I started spending more time at my desk and in the “Dahlia LaMotte room,” trying to get back on track with my own writing, but I found myself too distracted. Maybe it was because Ralph wasstill unconscious and I’d begun to fear that he’d never wake up. I’d shown him to Brock when he brought my car back from his cousin’s repair shop.
“If he was still made of iron I could solder him back together,” Brock told me regretfully. “I’m not so good with things made of flesh and bone. You should take him to Soheila. She’s better with things of the spirit.”
I promised Brock I would.
Toward the end of that first week I got emails from both Soheila Lilly and Frank Delmarco announcing that they were holding office hours on Friday. I decided to take Ralph to Soheila and then go confront Frank with what I had learned and find out somehow if Abigail Fisk was responsible for the curse. After breakfast on Friday I told Liam I had to go pick up some papers from my office. I was afraid that he’d offer to go with me, but he said he felt like doing some writing. Did I mind if he used my desk? He liked the view from the window and he’d be careful not to disturb any of my things. I said of course I didn’t mind and he gave me a kiss before going upstairs, but the exchange left me feeling uneasy. It seemed silly that he should have to ask to use a corner of space in a huge house—and silly that he always had to go back to the inn for a change of clothes when there were three or four empty closets upstairs. But if I told him to move some of his things over, would he think I was asking him to move in? Did he want to move in? Did I want him to? I promised myself that we’d at least talk about the issue that night and left the house.
My ankle was still sore, but it felt good to be out in the air and moving. I went through the southeast gate, which stood wide open now, and up the path to the quad. I saw a couple of students who must have been back early for campus jobs or to get a head start on the semester. One of them was Mara Marinca.
“Good morning, Professor McFay,” she said in her formalEnglish. “Merry New Year. I see you are walking with a…gimp? Have you injured yourself?”
“A limp. Yes, I got caught in a wild New Year’s Eve rave.” Mara’s blank, wide-eyed stare made me sorry I’d resorted to sarcasm. “Just kidding, Mara. I twisted it cross-country skiing. How was your vacation?”
“It was very productive, thank you. I worked in the admissions office, sorting through applications. You would be amazed at how many students want to come here to Fairwick. And such interesting, accomplished young people! It made me feel very lucky to be here.”
I’d thought waking up in an empty hotel room on Christmas morning was pathetic, but Mara’s holiday sounded even more bereft. “I hope you didn’t work the whole vacation.”
“Oh no! Dean Book was very kind and invited me to her house for…what did she call it? Wassailing?”
“Really? What did that entail?”
“We drank eggnog and decorated her Christmas tree and then sang Christmas carols. It was fun. Dean Book is very kind and Miss Hart makes the most delicious cakes and cookies.” Mara rubbed her stomach. “I am afraid that I gained weight over the holiday.”
“That’s okay, Mara, you needed it. You look good.”
Mara did, in fact, look a little plump, bloated even, her skin a shiny pink as if it had been stretched a little too far, too fast. The poor girl had probably never had enough to eat in her whole life. It was little wonder that Diana’s cooking had been an invitation to splurge.
“You, too, are looking well, Professor McFay,” Mara said, leaning in closer as if trying to get a better look at me. Perhaps the girl needed glasses; she often stood a little too close. Or perhaps the people in her country had a different sense of personal space. “You are glowing. You must have had a very satisfying holiday.”
I blushed thinking of just howsatisfyingmy holiday had been and where that well-rested glow came from—and also because something in the way Mara was staring at me made me think that she knew, too. Could word have already gotten around campus that Liam and I were seeing each other? Was Mara deliberately teasing me? But then I dismissed the idea as paranoid. It was just Mara’s awkward English that made her comments sound suggestive. I took a step back. “Well, I have to get something from my office…”
“Do you need help?” Mara asked, stepping forward and closing the space between us again. “It won’t be easy for you to carry anything with your injury. Dean Book won’t mind if I’m a little late for work…”
“No, Mara,” I said firmly and perhaps a bit too brusquely. “I’m not picking up anything heavy. I’ll be fine. Go to work. I’m sure the dean needs you more than I do.”
“Yes, you’re probably right. She hasn’t been feeling very well. But if you ever do need anything…”
“Thank you, Mara. I’ll remember that.”
I turned and continued on my way to Fraser Hall, disturbed to hear that Liz still wasn’t feeling well. I should drop by later to see if there was anything I could do for her—or for Diana, who must be worried sick about her. Right after I saw Soheila and Frank.
Although I’d planned to go to Soheila first, I changed my mind when I got to Fraser. If I saw Soheila first I’d be tempted to tell her what I’d learned about Frank and then I would lose the only bargaining tool I had: the advantage of being the only person who knew his secret.
I would have liked the advantage of surprise as well, but my limping progress up the four flights of stairs announced me way before I got to Frank’s office.
“What’d you do, McFay?” I heard him yell as I limped into his office. “Get into a fight down in the mean old city?”
I stood in the doorway for a moment, looking at him. Hehad his feet up on his desk, a Jets cap pulled low over his eyes, and aNew York Timesopened in front of his face so I couldn’t make out his expression. “No,” I answered, “but I was attacked by a lacuna while doing some genealogy research at the public library.”
Frank lowered the paper and looked up, eyes narrowed. He might have been calculating whether he could get away with pretending not to know what I was talking about, but after a moment he asked, “Are you okay? Those things are nasty.”
I sank down in a chair, my knees suddenly weak. Part of me had been hoping that he’d deny being part of this world. After all the shocks I’d absorbed this fall learning that witches and fairies existed, I had counted on this brusque but utterly familiar man being simply what he appeared to be.
“I survived,” I said, “and learned that you’re a descendant of one Abigail Fisk.”
