Zach said, "So, you love me. Does that mean you're going to marry me?"
This threw Lucy off. But yes, that was what he had said, to start with. He hadn't actually said he loved her, though she knew he did and of course he had said it before. But just now, he'd gotten on his knees and proposed marriage, like in a television commercial for a diamond ring. Except of course they had the roll of duct tape instead, which, when you came to think about it, was a far more practical item. Such a bad mistake it would be, to embark on marriage and adult life without a nice supply of duct tape.
Marriage. Adult life.
Lucy hesitated. "You mean later, right, Zach? You mean, after the baby is born, after we've both finished college—that is, assuming that everything turns out okay—I mean, we both know I'm sort of in a mess now." She gestured at the roll of duct tape, and at the strips still compressing Zach's chest and waist. "You mean we should get married someday. After all this. Right?"
"No," Zach said steadily. His hands shifted to hold Lucy's even more firmly. "I mean we should get married now. You should be my wife and I should be your husband. It should be my name with yours on the baby's birth certificate."
"Oh," Lucy said.
Zach was still on his knees. He said gently, "Think, Lucy. Think about what's best."
Lucy's eyes flared in automatic annoyance. She tried to tug her hands away. Zach wouldn't let her. "Marry me, Lucy," he said again. "Not someday. As soon as possible. Say yes."
She was thinking now. Still annoyed, but thinking. This fix she was in—marriage—
"Oh," she said flatly. "I see what you mean. You're thinking—because of the baby. You're thinking, what if it does turn out that I end up crazy like Miranda. This way, the baby has a legal father."
Zach nodded. "It solves some potential problems."
Why had this never occurred to Lucy before? The problems Zach had referred to came to her now, spinning into her mind with the force of a sandstorm. Soledad and Leo were Lucy's foster parents only. Because of the strange situation with Miranda, Lucy had never actually been legally free for adoption. If Lucy were incapacitated, if she were like Miranda, what would be the legal position of the baby? She had assumed that Soledad and Leo could care for the baby, could just take over, but if the baby were in the legal power of the state of Massachusetts, who knew? Anything could happen. Different foster parents could be assigned. Anything.
If Soledad and Leo had been thinking about this problem—and surely they must have—they hadn't bothered to say a word to Lucy about it. They had been sparing her, she thought wildly. Protecting her. Trying not to worry her. Making contingency plans, very possibly, without her. And of course she could trust them. But…
But.
But this was something that had to be worried about. That she had to worry about. Talk about being irresponsible … why hadn't she thought about this before? Was it the fault of that strange hormonal sea of well-being? Well, forget that! She needed to talk to a lawyer!
Who, she recognized a second later, would probably think she was already insane.
Her mind whirled on. For a few minutes, she forgot where she was, that Zach was still there on his knees before her. She wondered: Was she old enough to make a will? Or rather, to create some document saying what ought to happen to her baby in case she went crazy? If she did, was it enforceable, legal? She had so many questions suddenly. Child custody. The child welfare department. State bureaucracies. It was like a sinkhole had just opened at her feet.
And there was a huge obstruction in her throat, as if she were choking.
Then it relaxed. She blinked. She looked down.
Zach was still there. Looking up at her. And he was still holding her hands. She thought vaguely that his knees had to be hurting, but if so, she couldn't tell from his face.
"I know," he said to her, as if he had been able to read on her face every frantic thought she had just had. "Luce. I know. But it'll be okay. I can help. We can make all those problems go away."
Was that right? If Zach were legally the baby's father, if he were legally her husband … He had just turned twenty. It wasn't old, but it wasn't a teenager either. He was responsible and land and he loved Soledad and Leo and they loved him, and she, Lucy, loved him too. In every way.
She swallowed. She stared at him.
"I love you, Luce," he said now. Long, long minutes after the proposal. Now, now that she understood what was really going on, he said it again.
And she understood that he did love her. Really and truly. The scope of it was before her and she recognized all of it in that moment and she couldn't say a word, because the knot in her throat was again too big.
Zach Greenfield from next door. She knew him so well, and yet she hadn't known him until this moment, not fully.
"Say yes," he said.
There was another long moment of clarity in which Lucy knew she should not. A moment when she thought, No, I can't let Zach do this, I can't let him, because I love him. It's too much, he's taking on too much, he'll end up twenty-one years old with an insane wife and a baby who's not even his … and no college degree. And babies are expensive, he has no clue, neither do I. If I truly love him I will not do it, I will say no, I will talk to Soledad and Leo and we'll work something else out—maybe that's not fair to them exactly either, but I can't go down that path right now. The point is, Zach doesn't have to do this. It's not the only answer; it's maybe not even a good answer. And also it could even be just plain wrong, wrong of me to let him do this. To take this on.
"Say yes, Luce," Zach said. "Marry me."
She looked down into his eyes and they were the whole world.
"You mean it." Her legs lost what strength they had had. She fell on her knees, facing him.
"I mean it," he said.
They knelt there, before each other, clutching hands. Lucy might have cried a little. She wasn't sure; she didn't quite remember. If she loved him, how could she just go and ruin his life, which was surely what she would be doing? But the baby. The baby.
How could she not give her baby this father? Not just any father, but this father?
She thought of what Miranda had put in her letter to Lucy, about finding Soledad and Leo for Lucy. What a miracle that had been.
Now she was faced with a miracle of her own, and it was even better. Because if Lucy really did have only a few months left of sanity, of the ability to love, how could she say no to it? She wasn't strong enough to say no, not when everything in her screamed yes.
Yes. Yes. Yes! Take it. Be selfish. A few months—if it's only a few months—to be with him—
"Yes," she said.
She saw Zach smile. And then, at the very moment she said yes, at the very moment Zach dropped Lucy's hands and reached out to pull her close, the earth beneath the house rocked a little, as if it were located on a fault line, as if this were California and not Massachusetts, as if a very small earthquake had just occurred.
Neither of them noticed. And Zach was kissing Lucy, finally. His arms were around her, tight, urgent, and safe. Safe and dangerous all at once. And she was kissing him back, and her arms were just as fierce around him. She could feel the edge of the duct tape roll on his arm, pressing into her back. What was happening in her life was all very serious, and she still had to make the shirt. Yet, here she was, engaged to be married.
Lucy would have laughed with joy, except that her mouth was otherwise, and even more happily, occupied.
CHAPTER 40
When the creature who called himself Padraig Seeley drove up to the Markowitzes' house in Waltham at three o'clock that afternoon, exactly on time to meet Soledad, he knew immediately that no one was home. It wasn't only that there were no cars in the driveway, and no lights burning within the house. It was that the house also had that indefinable feel of temporary abandonment. He got out of his Range Rover and looked disapprovingly at the faded paint on the front door and at the old-fashioned mailbox next to it that Leo had set up, slightly
askew, twenty years earlier. He didn't need to ring the bell; he knew no one would answer.
He narrowed his eyes and concentrated his senses, taking in the information that was available to him.
First, Soledad had completely forgotten he was coming. Padraig did not know why; just that it was so. Something had happened to make her forget, and not long ago either.
This was irritating—-he had looked forward to seeing Lucinda in person again—but had to be accepted. There were limits to Padraig's magical abilities when amongst humans, and normally, he had no difficulty accepting these limits because his power and influence over their weak, suggestible minds was still more than adequate. But Soledad and Leo Markowitz had proven unexpectedly challenging. Whenever Padraig was not present, their love for their foster daughter sprang back into precedence. He-knew, for example, that they were actively helping Lucinda with the seamless shirt project. That stupid boy Greenfield also appeared to be involved. Padraig might need to pay some attention to him. Make him go back to college where he belonged, for example. He had not bothered earlier.
He had not actually bothered to interfere with the activities of the Markowitzes either, beyond having Soledad keep him informed about every single thing they did. It was quite entertaining for him, to watch them scurry, all the while knowing what he knew. The curse—or the Game, as he liked to think of it—would prove impossible for Lucinda Scarborough to win. He knew this because he had set it in motion himself, centuries ago, and not one of the Scarborough girls had even come close on the very first task.
It was hard for him to remember now, but once upon a time he had truly cared for the strong-willed, pretty, and disrespectful Fenella. She had refused to understand how honored she ought to be. She had declared that she wanted a human life, with children, instead. She had even dared to choose a human lover and have a child with him, a daughter.
Well, Fenella had come to regret her decision, once she understood what it would mean for that precious daughter of hers, and all the daughters after. None of those daughters had even been allowed to choose their human lovers, the fathers of their daughters, as Fenella had. Padraig had chosen for them. It had amused him tremendously.
No, Fenella had not properly appreciated his power and her good fortune in having attracted his interest. Not until he had forced her to.
Lucinda reminded him of Fenella Scarborough, a little. It would be great fun to destroy her, once she had tried and failed to meet the three conditions of the Game. It would be almost as juicy, perhaps, as his initial victory over Fenella herself.
In a way, it was too bad that he had to wait, but it was the condition of the Game, after all. He could do nothing to Lucinda now. But her freedom soon would end. And then, one day, she would be madly singing the Scarborough song to her own daughter. It would be sweet. It always was.
He stepped closer to the Markowitzes' house and then sniffed the air, frowning. He could now taste an unexpected tang of magic within the house, and it made him pause. Whoever had worked the magic had done it recently. This person was not adept or powerful—not like him—and he would need to get closer to discern exactly what had been done, and by whom. What he could sense, however, was a distinct aroma of success.
This disturbed him only for a moment, and then provoked his curiosity. Was he in for a small fight before he inevitably won? He smiled. That would be quite amusing. It might be Soledad who was making the difference, working a kind of protective love magic to which many humans—especially, but not exclusively women—retained a weak, misunderstood access. A Scarborough girl had never had a mother helping her before, and he had wondered if Soledad's presence would make this particular victory even more interesting than it usually was.
Yes, this really might be the best Scarborough girl he'd had in generations.
He went up the walk to the front door of the house, placed the tip of his index finger on the lock, and tapped it gently. The lock clicked open. He walked into the Markowitzes' living room, glanced around it, and turned left unerringly to enter the dining room.
Yes. The dining room reeked with the magic that had been done here, and in addition, the desperate evidence was strewn all around.
"A shirt without needle or seam," he said aloud. "True, nothing was said about it needing to be attractive. But still." He put out a hand to touch the … thing—made of matted felting wool, still wet, that had been stuck to a male-shaped upper-body form that was composed of duct tape. The whole contraption was sitting on top of the dining room table.
But to his surprise, he was unable to lay a finger on it. It was as if the duct tape torso, covered in wet wool felt, lay under an invisible barrier. He compressed his lips in annoyance.
He understood, however. When the thing dried, it would be a vest-like top without a discernible seam. Wouldn't its lack of sleeves disqualify it from being a shirt? Apparently not, or he would have been able to touch it. A true seamless shirt it must be, then. The creation of which, done in this room, had released the magic that he could still sense, and which was now protecting the shirt. Therefore, it could be—it must be—that this disgusting item, though it was crude and close to unwearable, would, when finished, actually meet the first test of the ballad.
He touched his forehead, doffing an imaginary hat to Soledad. He had no doubt that this was her conception, and none either that the girl Lucinda would have actually done all the work. Under instruction, of course.
"The first test." He spoke aloud again. "This round apparently goes to you, Soledad Markowitz, and to you, Lucinda Scarborough. Though you will not know it, not for sure. And of course, you will win no more."
He smiled. He could afford to lose this little battle. It was not as if they would be able to proceed much further.
He left the Markowitzes' house as easily as he had entered it.
CHAPTER 41
"Are you sorry you proposed?" Lucy whispered to Zach as they walked side by side after Soledad to the small waiting room at McLean Hospital, where they would meet Leo. "It's only been a few hours, and we're in a psychiatric hospital."
Zach moved so that he gently bumped hips with Lucy. Actually, he almost couldn't stand not to be touching her in some way. It had felt wrenching, on the ride to the hospital in Soledad's car, to have Lucy in the front seat, apart from him.
He whispered back, "No. I'm glad they've found Miranda. If we get some time with her, I'm going to ask her for your hand in marriage. Formally." He had the satisfaction of seeing Lucy's jaw drop.
Then she smiled. "What? Just Miranda? What about my mom and dad?"
"I'll ask them too. Three at once. I'm good at multitasking."
Lucy bumped him hard with her hip.
He wanted to grab her. Hold her. Kiss her fiercely and tell her it would be okay. She was trying hard to appear normal, even making jokes, as things in her life got progressively stranger. Even his proposal, he knew, was yet another episode in a chain of weirdness.
And now this. What would it be like for Lucy to see Miranda here at McLean, knowing everything she now knew about Miranda, and with her own pregnancy visible?
How would Miranda react to seeing her daughter pregnant? Had Soledad thought about that when she'd insisted they come? Did she hope that Miranda would be more likely to reveal information once she saw her daughter's pregnancy?
Zach had no idea, but at least Lucy wasn't alone in facing any of it, and she never would be again, if he could help it. He was her fiancé. Soon, everyone would know, and as quickly as possible after that, they'd get married.
Zach was already planning strategies for the wedding, with many contingencies taken into consideration, including possible parental disapproval. Under the circumstances, though, he figured the real problem would be his own parents, not Soledad and Leo. Now he found himself half wishing his parents had already been told everything, all the gory, preposterous, and unbelievable details about Lucy's situation. It was going to be difficult to explain now. Maybe it couldn't even be do
ne.
But he was old enough to get married without his parents' approval, and so was Lucy. If Zach had to break into his college funds to support them, there was no legal way to stop that either. Thanks to his grandparents, there would be enough money for three frugal years, he had calculated.
In his heart, though, he doubted that he'd have to figure-it out without his parents' advice. They weren't likely to turn their backs on him and Lucy or on their longtime friends the Markowitzes. There'd just be some drama to get through first.
And speaking of drama, Zach and Lucy had already agreed that they would tell Soledad and Leo about their engagement that very night. Of course, they hadn't expected the news about Miranda. They hadn't expected to rush off to McLean Hospital.
But here they were.
Soledad had come hurrying into the house bare minutes after Lucy finished piecing together the seamless felted shirt on top of the duct tape dummy. It had to be the ugliest garment ever made. Just before they heard Soledad, Zach had been giving Lucy a congratulatory kiss for finishing. They'd sprung away from each other instinctively, even though a second later Zach wondered why, since they didn't mean to keep it a secret, and a picture was worth a thousand words and all.
But Soledad was bursting with her own news. "Lucy, you have to come with me right away! Leo just called me from McLean Hospital. It's Miranda."
As soon as she had breath to continue, she did. "That detective Leo hired found Miranda at a shelter in Providence. And it turns out he knows some specialist on staff at McLean who got Miranda admitted there for evaluation under some special program.
"McLean! They're the best, Lucy. We could never afford it, but this doctor has a grant for indigent patients who fit a certain profile, and it turns out Miranda qualifies. If she cooperates. I know, she probably won't—but suppose she did? She has so far; she let herself be admitted. She signed the papers. And McLean is nice. Maybe she'll like it. We can go see her right now, if we hurry, and maybe this time …"