Elv knelt with her back against the tunnel and offered him her arm. She laughed when he said he hoped it wasn’t becoming her fatal flaw. “That’s you, baby,” she said, leaning to kiss his cheek. She didn’t like to put the needle in—the metal scared her. It made her think of handcuffs, pricked fingers, blood seeping down, a sleep that lasted a hundred years. She gazed at the graffiti on the wall. It all looked like Arnish to her, only she couldn’t understand that language anymore. Lorry took something out of his pocket, a small velvet box. He tossed it to her. Inside was an emerald ring with a red-gold band. It was exquisite.
“Just so you know I’m not playing,” he said.
She leaned to kiss him. She belonged where she was, with him. Everything was beautiful, especially the snow. After Lorry got high, he put his head in her lap and closed his eyes. He sang “Blackbird,” such a beautiful, sad song. He told her he sang that song when he buried his dog in the park, when he stood there alone in the greening light, having lost his best friend, his only protector. Elv studied his face. He was perfect. He was always there for her. She gazed at the falling snow. She could still hear the wolves in the zoo. They listened together.
She took him to her grandmother’s the next time her ama went out for the evening.
NATALIA WENT TO dinner on Long Island with Elise and Mary Fox. She was caught by a snowstorm and had to spend the weekend. “Don’t worry,” Elv said. “I have tons of canned soup and frozen pizza. I don’t even have to go out.” When Elise and Mary brought Natalia home, they were shocked by what they found. Mary went to the spare bedroom. There was Elv, passed out on the bed, naked. Mary noticed the glint of needles in an ashtray before she went back to the hall. The door to the bathroom was open. Lorry had a towel wrapped around him. His dark hair was slicked back.
They didn’t know his name or anything about him, only that he threw on his clothes and skulked past them, put out, as if they were the intruders. “Tell her I’ll be back,” he said. He was a whirl wind, handsome, sure of himself. Natalia could see how he could enthrall a young girl, to whom he would seem forbidden, beautiful. She might not notice that wherever he went, destruction followed.
Annie drove in the next morning and waited for Elv to explain herself. Elv had been crying and she was exhausted. Natalia seemed so disappointed; she looked her age, a woman who didn’t know how to handle her favorite granddaughter. Elv was fidgety and apprehensive. She wore the emerald on her left hand.
“Where did you get that?” Annie demanded. “Have you seen it before?” she asked Natalia.
“It’s mine,” Elv declared. She hid her hand. “I didn’t steal it from Ama if that’s what you’re getting at.”
“Did you get it from that man?”
“That man cares about me. Unlike you.”
“She can stay here,” Natalia said. “We’ll talk things over. We’ll figure out how to make it work.”
“It’s unworkable,” Annie said. “I’m not having her do this to you.”
“Do what to her? I would never hurt you,” Elv told her ama.
They left and went down to the car, parked around the block. Elv got in and slumped down. She was tapping her foot. She looked ready to explode.
“Elv. You know I care.”
Elv stared out the window. She wasn’t listening to her mother. She was biting her nails. “You’re going to look back on this and see what a terrible mother you were.”
“That man is not to come to our house.”
“Do you think you can make me listen to you?”
Annie reached across Elv and opened the car door. “Then don’t come home. Go to a residential school.”
Elv glared at her mother, then pulled the door shut. It was freezing out there. It was so cold your fingertips could turn blue in seconds flat. She’d known all that talk about caring was a big fat lie. “Fine,” she said bitterly.
“Fine,” Annie agreed. It should have felt like a victory, but it felt like a loss. It took them a long time to get home because of the road conditions. Even so, they didn’t speak a word.
THE WINTER LASTED forever, with record snowfalls reported. It was March and still snowing. And then, one morning, Claire awoke to find it was spring. It was a Sunday and the bluebells on the lawn had suddenly appeared. When she went downstairs, her mother was already dressed. Annie was going into the city to have lunch with Natalia. Their relationship had been strained since the incident with Lorry. They usually agreed on the important things, but not anymore. Natalia felt Elv should move in with her again, but Annie seemed to have given up hope.
“There has to be a way to bring her back to us,” Natalia continued to say.
“If I knew what that was, I would do it,” Annie told her.
“Maybe we should get to know that fellow of hers,” Natalia said.
“Absolutely not,” Annie had told her mother. “Not him.”
“Give Ama a big hug from me,” Claire said when her mother was about to set off for the city.
“Can you keep an eye on your sister?”
“Absolutely,” Claire said, even though she knew Elv had been in a wretched mood since her return.
When her mother left, Claire gazed out the window. A robin was hopping about on the lawn. It made her think of the baby bird they’d found and the necklace of bones Elv had made. She wondered if she was the only one in the world who thought the things Elv did were beautiful: the robin necklace and the tattoo of roses, the language made up of words that sounded like birdsong.
After a while Meg came down and they sat there together in their nightgowns—presents from their grandmother, the smocking stitched by hand—and had a quick breakfast. They went back upstairs and got dressed. Claire pulled on jeans and boots and a sweatshirt. She’d packed her gym bag with her equestrian equipment, her helmet and gloves. She had taken up riding again and it was a perfect day for going to the stables. Claire had completely recovered from her broken bones, although she still had twinges on humid days. She could always tell when it was about to rain. It had taken a while for her to get over her fear of falling, but she’d done so with practice. Now she was horse crazy. That was the best thing about spring finally arriving. She would be able to ride every weekend.
Meg was heading out with Claire. She’d study for the SATs in the tack room at the stables, where she could curl up on an old leather couch. She was also bringing along her copy of To the Lighthouse to reread as a treat if she happened to finish studying. The truth was, she didn’t like to stay alone in the house with Elv. Not that Meg would ever consider riding. She wouldn’t even try it when Claire begged, insisting they’d have great fun. Meg was afraid of horses. She’d seen how hard and how fast the carriage horse in the park had gone down. She’d felt the thud right up through the tires of the police car.
They were just about to leave when Elv came into the kitchen. She’d slept for seventeen hours and was groggy. She got herself a cup of coffee, then sat down at the table and pinched one of Claire’s half-eaten waffles. Her skin was pale and she was wearing a velvet headband, the one she’d stolen from Meg. “I miss Lorry,” she said plaintively. She sounded almost human.
“Who’s Lorry?” Meg asked Claire when Elv went to get herself some juice.
“He’s her boyfriend. He gave her the ring she wears.”
“He must have been the one who was in Ama’s apartment.” Meg went to rinse the dishes and load them in the dishwasher. Then she got her jacket and Claire’s. “Let’s go.”
Elv was drinking right out of the container of orange juice. She had to fill up the next few weeks until she at last turned eighteen and no one could tell her whom to love and how to live her life. “Where’re you going?” she asked when her sisters headed for the door. “Where’s Mom?”
“She went to see Ama.” It was so beautiful outside Claire didn’t think she needed a jacket, but when Meg handed her one, she put it on anyway. “She’ll be back at dinnertime. We’re going to the stables.”
?
??Wait a minute,” Elv said. She didn’t want to be alone.
“We’re already late,” Meg said. “Come on.” She guided Claire toward the back door. “We have to go.”
“I know more about horses than the two of you put together,” Elv said. “I ran the stables at Westfield. I wasn’t some spoiled brat who has a hired hand to pick up the shit and clean out hooves. I did it all.”
“Let’s go,” Meg said to Claire. She had the curdled feeling she had whenever Elv was around.
Elv put the OJ container on the counter. She wanted to have fun, the way they used to. “I can give you a ride,” she said. “You’ll get there on time.”
“I don’t think so.” Meg was disgusted. She wasn’t about to be won over by Elv’s tricks. “You don’t have a car.”
“I’ll get Dad’s.”
Meg elbowed Claire. “Come on.”
“Seriously,” Elv said.
“She’s a good driver,” Claire told Meg.
Elv sent her a grateful look.
Meg opened the door. “Let’s go.”
“See you later,” Claire called to Elv as they headed for the door.
“Alligator,” Elv called back.
They looked at each other and laughed.
MEG AND CLAIRE cut across the lawn, then started down the street. The lawns themselves looked blue, as if the sky had somehow been reversed. There were robins in the trees, on the fences, in the grass. The lawn where Pretzel had always been tied up looked empty. The grass there was ruined.
“She’s really not that bad,” Claire told Meg.
Meg’s book bag was slung over her shoulder. She was wearing a pair of black leather boots, a short denim jacket, and khaki slacks. Her hair was pulled back. “Bad is a relative concept.”
There was still a crust of snow and ice on some lawns. They had to walk three miles, but Meg and Claire didn’t mind. On their way they sang Beatles songs, their mother’s favorites. They sang “Imagine” as high as their voices could go, then exploded into giggles. Halfway to the stables, they heard a car behind them. Somebody honked. They turned and saw the Miata. Claire laughed and ran over to the car. The top was down and there was Elv, driving. She looked like a movie star.
“You are so crazy!” Claire said. “You’re going to wind up in jail!”
“Dad didn’t know last time. He won’t know this time. Anyway, I think they went away for the weekend. You said you were late, so hop in. I’ll be your chauffeur.”
Elv was wearing sunglasses. In the spring sunlight, she looked like Audrey Hepburn in Two for the Road. Their mother could watch that movie every night and never get tired of it. It was all about falling in and out of love with the same person.
“Ready, set, go,” Elv said brightly. She pushed her sunglasses up.
Claire grabbed Meg’s arm. “Let’s,” she said.
“You’ve got to help shift,” Elv told Claire, who’d already begun climbing into the passenger seat.
“You don’t know how to shift?” Meg was standing in a patch of bluebells.
“Two heads are better than one,” Elv reflected. “So two drivers are better than one. Come on. Squeeze in. I’m going to get a sports car when I move to Paris.”
“You’re moving to Paris?” Claire was surprised.
“Maybe. Lorry and I have plans.” Elv winked, which was exactly what Audrey Hepburn would have done.
“Come on,” Claire said to Meg. “Trust me, it’s fun.”
Meg got into the back, which was less of a seat than it was a shelf for sacks of groceries. She pulled her legs up under her. She had her book bag on one side and Claire’s gym bag on the other. It was only a five-minute ride to the stable. The sky was unbelievably blue.
Elv told Claire when to shift, and after an initial stall-out, they got going. The Miata revved like a racecar every time Claire shifted. They went past the woods, then along the harbor. It was a beautiful stretch of road. Sometimes you could see blue herons glide over the water. There was no traffic, so Elv kept her foot pressed down on the gas. The wind smelled fresh, and the sun was surprisingly strong. When Meg squinted, the light looked green. She could hear her sisters laughing, but she couldn’t hear much more. The motor was loud and the wind blew against her ears. She could see bits of the water in the bay and the tall bare trees that would soon be leafing.
They were only going fifty, but it seemed as though they were flying. When Elv lost control they didn’t even realize what was happening; they were just flying higher, blue sky, sweet air, the sound of the motor, and then they weren’t flying anymore. Elv screamed, but Claire couldn’t really hear her. She heard the wind, then a thud and a metal sound. Elv grabbed Claire and pulled her down hard, toward the floor. Claire covered her head with her arms, as she’d been taught to do should she ever fall from a horse. The impact was so hard she bit through her lip. They had leaped from the road into the woods. Everything was dark when they rolled over. It was quiet, but something echoed. Claire couldn’t tell if she was blind or if the whole world had turned black.
“Are you there?”
It was Elv’s voice. Shaky, unsure. Claire could see shadows: There was the car window, there was the earth covered with leaves and patches of snow, there was a stalk of swamp cabbage.
“Go out the window,” Elv told her.
Claire pulled herself through the shape that looked like a window. The car was upside down. There was still a blue sky. Elv was climbing out through the place where the windshield used to be. Broken glass was scattered in the leaves. There was a carpet of diamonds; diamonds were everywhere.
Meg was underneath a big tree. There were pine needles spread out, the color of hay. There was the sound of a siren very far away. It was like something in a dream, but it was coming closer. Elv went to stand beside Claire. Meg’s face was cut and she held one arm close to her body, clenched against her abdomen. She had hit the steering wheel hard. She was covered with glass. Blood was flecked over her skin. Elv stared down at the grass. “Tell her to get up,” she said, baffled by what she saw. “Tell her. She’ll listen to you.”
Claire turned to Elv, sobbing. “Don’t you see? Look at what we did to her!”
There were dog violets in the woods. They grew underneath the snow and now the snow was gone. Beneath the tree everything was quiet. The quiet spread out like water in a pond. Elv ran off, but Claire didn’t care. She didn’t hear the sirens when the police cars drew near. Everything had stopped, even the sky. No clouds moved. No birds perched in the trees. She went to lie down beside her sister. If she really tried, she might be able to imagine they were still safe in bed, hours before this, back when the day was just beginning, when the ice was still melting, when the violets in the woods hadn’t yet bloomed.
Part Two
Snow
Twelve girls were missing. One gone for each month of the year. People in town grew used to it. They wondered what beast had done this, and who the next victim would be.
I found a handful of teeth on the ground. My mother said they belonged to a dragon. My father said they had lined the mouth of a wolf. But the teeth were small and white, perfect as pearls. There were twelve all together. I strung them on a chain and wore them around my throat.
That was when people began talking.
There was a town meeting to decide what to do. Everyone said the teeth must be disposed of. They’d bring a curse to me and to my village. But I heard someone whisper “No” in what sounded like my voice.
I ran away. The town council came to my house. They questioned my father and my mother. They searched for me, but it was too late. I was on the hillside, planting the teeth in the ground. When it rained, twelve girls would grow. They would point to their murderer before they turned into flowers, each one as white as snow.
ANNIE HADN’T STARTED HER TOMATO SEEDLINGS THAT SPRING. She hadn’t bothered to weed. The garden was filling with Virginia creeper and thistle. Goldfinches flocked to the weed, trilling over their good fortune. The wea
ther was lovely, a lamblike March, nothing like the terrible year when there was a false spring and the roads were slick with hidden patches of ice. Annie still wore a coat. She was cold all the time. She sat in a wrought-iron chair under the hawthorn tree. On the day the accident happened, there had been bluebells. By the following morning, nearly twelve inches of wet snow had fallen. They had learned not to trust the weather.
Annie and Claire stayed in the chapel with the body for twenty-four hours, unable to leave her. At last, the funeral director pleaded with them to go. There were some things for which family members shouldn’t be present. Remember her as she was, he suggested. But Meg had never been wound up in white, her face so pale, her eyes closed. They were already remembering her the way she was in death rather than the way she had been in life.
Claire had to be escorted out. The door was bolted so the body could be prepared without interruption. When they wouldn’t let her in, she sank to the floor. Mourners had to step around her. Those who did lean down to try to embrace her were greeted with stony silence. Just before the service began Natalia insisted she come into the chapel. “Do this for Meg,” she said. Claire sat in the front row, between her mother and grandmother, head bowed. She wore the same clothes she’d had on when the accident occurred. Splinters of glass glittered in the seams.
At the cemetery Claire felt as if she were watching the burial from a great distance. Her head was bare, covered with snow. She didn’t feel anything, just a fluttering in her stomach, the same panicky feeling she’d had while waiting on the corner of Nightingale Lane all those years ago, heedless of the mosquitoes and the darkening sky. As she stood between her mother and grandmother, all she knew was that she should be the one being lowered into the ground. She looked up at the falling snow. She couldn’t see anything but spots of light. Meg had trusted her. She’d agreed to get into the car because Claire had told her to.