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“Would you like to come to the meeting this morning?” he asks.
My voice comes out in a little croak as I wonder how I’m supposed to respond, then I shake my head. “I don’t know if I would be welcome.”
“You know a few people here now,” he says. “Peaches, Charlotte, Elijah, Grant…you should come. They would welcome you.”
“They would be more than justified in telling me to stay out,” I say.
“But they won’t,” he says. “And, well,Iwant you to come, and I’m running the whole thing.”
“Why?”
Reyes doesn’t lookremotelyprepared to answer that question. “Because you’re going to be here for a couple more weeks at least, and I don’t want you to feel like a prisoner.”
“Even though I am.”
He sighs and crosses his arms, his jaw tightening. “Look, Tilda, you don’t have to do anything, but…”
“Sorry,” I blurt out. “I’m…kind of a jerk. My sister tells me that all the time.”
“And I’m sure you miss her,” he says.
“Yeah, I do.” I take a deep breath, shrugging my shoulders. “I’m just going to change, and then I’ll go to your meeting or service or…whatever it is. I presume I shouldn’t show up in PJs?”
He smiles. “Maybe, but Grant will probably do worse.”
“I don’t know what that could possibly mean, but I’m not sure if I want to find out,” I laugh.
It feels good to laugh with him, even as I know I’m getting closer to these people than I should.
And now I’m going to their church service.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
?
REYES
We don’t typically keep to the same patterns as a normal service would. There’s no fanfare as the pack filters out of the den in the late morning light, sitting in the makeshift pews made of old chairs and log benches. People chat with each other, the few kids we have around giggling and laughing, an infant crying. I take note of the little ways that the pack interacts: how Charlotte and Elijah keep their hands clasped together, how Grant and Suyin seem to be avoiding each other as much as possible. Will looms at the back of the pews, where a waist-high fence separates us from the open field between us and the boundary wall.
Peaches has already started decorating our little outdoor chapel for the wedding, draping the music stand we use as a pulpit in wildflowers. The flowers are everywhere, hanging from the posts that hold up the sunshade overhead, scattering the ground around where I stand. From what I understand, it will be a short ceremony—but Peaches has committed to making it beautiful.
In three days, my niece will be married. I’ll be walking her down the aisle.
Everything about this is surreal.
Tilda takes an anxious seat at the front of the chapel, right next to Charlotte. I take the homily out of my pocket, the paper crinkled almost to the point where I won’t be able to read it. I’m nervous—even though I do this every week, I’mnervous.
Almost as nervous as Tilda looks, I think.
“Morning, everyone,” I say, raising my voice. The others immediately focus in on me, going silent as a show of respect to the Prime. “As usual, I’ll keep this brief; but I wanted to talk this morning about the things that we carry with us from before the convergence. The things that keep us human.”
Tilda’s green eyes zero in on me, her hands clenched on the log bench until her knuckles are white. I feel like I’m giving my first sermon, like she’s judging every word I say. No matter how hard I try to ignore her, I can’t seem to forget that she’s watching.
I can sense her like a second consciousness, like a kiss whispering across my lips.
“Many of you probably already know that Elijah and Charlotte are planning on getting married here in a few days,” I say. “Charlotte has given me permission to invite all of you. This will be our first wedding in the den since the convergence.”
Grant, sitting in the row behind Elijah, claps him on the shoulder. Charlotte’s cheeks flush.
