Page 35

Claire

I t was decided that John and Kimmy would go to Summerhurst that day, ahead of me and Asha, to start the process of opening it up again. Danny and Jenna were on their way over to Dreamspring to pick them up and lend a hand with Summerhurst.

“I’d like to help, though,” I protested, standing in the foyer with John.

“We’ll need plenty of help in the coming weeks,” John replied. “But everything’s boarded up right now, and all the furniture’s covered and packed away. I don’t want that to be your first look at it. I want you to see it how it should be. I want it to feel like home for you.”

Touched, I smoothed the front of his jacket. “Alright. But be careful. The last thing we need is for you to make it all the way home and then get crushed under a rogue beam or something.”

He grinned. “If I am, you’ll know it was Danny.”

As if summoned, there was a loud knock on the front door.

“You ready there, Johnny?” Danny called. “I’m about to freeze my balls off out here. ”

“That’d be an improvement,” John said as he opened the door, “considering how often your balls have gotten you into trouble in the past.”

Framed by the doorway, Danny grinned. “Not wrong. In my defence, though, I can’t help that I’m irresistible.”

“Good to know that becoming Chief hasn’t gone completely to your head, Danny,” Kimmy retorted as she walked out of the kitchen, and John chuckled. “Now, children…there’s work to do.”

John kissed me goodbye, and the three of them headed for a horse-drawn wagon, where Jenna waited. I’d never seen horses in person before, and though they were intimidating, I was curious about them and wished they could’ve stayed. Oh well.

I sighed as I headed back to the living room alone; Asha had gone upstairs to catch up on sleep.

Our sleeping bags and packs were still laid out around the hearth…

only now, there were children playing with them.

Jake was hiding in John’s sleeping bag from an inquisitive little girl of perhaps four years old, who kept trying to unzip it.

Every time she tried, Jack would roll over, making her giggle loudly, and the game would repeat.

Allie glared at them from the sofa, a book in her hands.

“I’m trying to read,” she said irritably.

My eyes immediately went to the book she held. The Odyssey by Homer. I frowned. An eleven-year-old girl was reading The Odyssey ?

“How’s your book, Allie?” I asked, moving to take a seat next to her.

She looked at me nervously, clearly unsure how to interact with me.

“It’s okay, I guess,” she replied, looking down at the floor. “I mean, I don’t really get most of it.”

“I’m not surprised,” I said, and when she looked offended, I quickly clarified, “A lot of adults don’t get it. It’s a difficult book.”

She sighed heavily as the two younger children squealed with laughter again.

“Dr. Irons was making me read it before he died, and Mom says I have to finish it. But I hate reading.”

I frowned again. “It’s for school?”

When she nodded, I couldn’t help judging the deceased Dr. Irons. What teacher would possibly think The Odyssey was appropriate reading material for an eleven-year-old ?

“Did he say why he wanted you to read it?” I asked, holding my hand out for the book. Allie hesitated but handed it to me.

I flipped through the dog-eared pages. No annotations, no teaching guide, and it was unabridged, which meant it was at least 400 pages.

The language was dense and difficult—far beyond the expected reading level for her age group.

I’d read it for the first time in a university course about Greek classics.

Allie rolled her eyes. “He said it’s ‘high’ literature that we should all know because if we don’t, it’ll be lost. He said that about everything, though.”

I couldn’t help but smile at her tone. “What other books did he have you read?”

She rattled off a list that included texts from Shakespeare, The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald, and Ulysses by James Joyce. Nothing I would’ve given to a preteen girl. No wonder she hated reading.

“I don’t blame you for not liking them,” I said thoughtfully, chewing my lip. “Lots of grown-ups don’t even like them. Can I make you a deal?”

She eyed me warily, but she was listening.

“If I can find you some better books, would you give them a try?” I asked. “I want to try to change your mind about reading. Some of the most fun I ever had was while reading.”

John had told me that his grandparents had a small library of books, and I knew he’d be willing to help me scavenge for books if needed. If I could just find one that was appropriate for her age group and reading level…

She laughed doubtfully. “Why would you do that?”

I smiled. “Well…I used to be a teacher. Back where I came from. I taught music and history, because those were my specialty, but…I’m qualified to teach most subjects except mathematics. That was always my weakness.”

“Oh. I didn’t know,” Allie said, fidgeting with her sweater, “I’m sorry Dr. Irons died, but school was so boring that I’m kinda glad I don’t have to go.”

I bit my tongue to avoid saying something I’d regret.

I knew some kids may never like school, but from everything I’d heard, it sounded like the Valley children had a better reason than most. Suddenly, John’s adolescent misdeeds sounded less like a deliberately wayward child and more like an incredibly bored, under-stimulated teenage boy.

If school was this dull, of course he’d been far more interested in learning about shooting and horseback riding.

Sarah came in from the kitchen, unusually red-faced, a protective hand over her enormous belly.

“Sorry to ask you, Claire,” she said, clearly embarrassed, “but I knocked my knife off the counter while chopping, and I can’t…well, I can’t bend over to get it.”

I smiled. “Of course. I’d love to help.”

I followed her to the kitchen, retrieved the knife, and started to help her prepare small meat pies for dinner. As I rolled out the pastry for her, I remarked, “It’s quite amazing how you’ve been able to maintain such a high standard of living here.”

Sarah looked surprised. “Probably still much lower than you’re used to, I bet, coming from a compound.”

I shrugged. “It’s not about comparing the two. The compound had access to a lot of high-tech solutions that made living easier. But there was a steep price for all that.”

“You didn’t like it there?” Sarah asked cautiously.

“I didn’t know any different,” I replied, rolling out another ball of pastry. “But once I was outside…I saw that we’d lived very small, constrained lives, under strict control. I like being free.”

She seemed to relax at my answer, and we chatted amiably for a long time after that.

She seemed interested in my life inside the Cave, so I told what stories I could, and in exchange, she shared babysitting stories about John and Kimmy.

Predictably, John was the wild child, while Kimmy was more laidback and studious.

She’d always wanted to be a doctor, Sarah said, while John wanted to be a cowboy.

“I don’t want you getting the wrong idea about John,” Sarah said after we’d both stopped laughing.

“He was a bit of a troublemaker, but he was never mean. Always hated bullies and got in trouble a couple times for fighting with a kid who picked on the others. He was sweet, if a little unhinged at times.”

I giggled. “Sounds like the man I know and love.”

Her expression softened. “Never saw him do anything like he did for you at that meeting. He wouldn’t have done that for just anyone, so he must love you too.

” She paused, then continued, “I mean, it’s not hard to see why he’d want you.

You don’t look like any of the girls around here, that’s for sure. ”

My smile faltered a little. “I suppose you’re right.”

There was an uncomfortable silence.

“I’m sorry,” Sarah said, touching my arm. “That came out wrong.”

“It’s okay,” I replied, trying to recover the pleasant conversation we’d been having. “I’m looking forward to living here with him. I’ve heard so much about Summerhurst and all of you, and it’s kind of a dream come true to be here finally.”

Sarah stared at me for a long moment.

“You’re not what I expected, coming from a compound. You’re alright, Claire.”

It wasn’t exactly a glowing endorsement…but I’d take it.

For our last night at the Armstrongs’, Sarah insisted that John and I sleep in the bedroom that Maisie and Allie shared, even though we said we’d be fine in the living room again. Kimmy and Asha would share the boys’ bedroom.

“They’ll survive one night in the living room,” she said, giving her children a pointed look. “Won’t you, kids?”

“Yes, Mom,” the three oldest mumbled.

That night, I took a real, honest-to-goodness shower—my first in months, and the hot water droplets raining down on my skin felt like a revelation.

I may not have missed many things about the Cave…

but proper showers were at the top of the list. Sarah had also volunteered to wash our clothes—threadbare and wretched as they were at this point—and so when I went to bed, I was cleaner than I’d been in almost a year.

We retired to a very pink bedroom on the second floor, with childish animals painted on the walls. Clearly, it hadn’t been redecorated in some time. I stood in front of a full-length mirror, brushing my damp hair, while John stripped down to boxers for bed.

“Pretty,” he murmured, watching me .

His gaze reminded me of Sarah’s earlier comment and the reaction to my looks during the council meeting. It bothered me.

“I want to ask you something,” I said, “and I want you to tell me the truth.”

John raised an eyebrow, leaning back on his hands. “Okay.”

“Am I strange?” I asked quietly, concentrating on the knots at the bottom of my hair. “Everyone in that meeting today talked about my looks.”

John frowned. “And?”

“I’ve never had so many people comment on my appearance…other than my mother, who was never happy with it.”

Understanding softened his features. “But she was wrong.”

I set the hairbrush on the dresser, staring deliberately at the floor.

“They acted like I was a…a freak,” I said, mortified. “I spent so long being the ugly duckling in my family…if I’m going to be that again here, I want to be prepared.”

To my surprise, John gave an incredulous laugh.

“Sweetheart,” he said gently, beckoning me over, “you’re so beautiful that they don’t know what to think. Why do you think we disguised you and Asha in Little River? Because your beauty is a dead giveaway that you’re different.”

I stood between his parted knees, giving him a doubtful look as he wrapped his arms around my waist.

“But I never thought you and Kimmy were…that different.”

“Nice of you to say,” John replied, amused, “but to the rest of us normies, it’s pretty obvious that you stand out. I may not be bad to look at, but I have scars, and the odd wrinkle here and there. The sun burns me, and bugs bite me. Not like you—perfect and smooth.”

I moved to straddle his lap and studied his face.

His soft, affectionate smile revealed sweet, soft creases at the corners of his eyes that I’d always liked.

His skin, paled by winter, was still darker than mine, and I ran my fingers along the length of his sharp jawline, admiring him.

His dark amber eyes held mine, exuding warmth.

It was true that he wasn’t the same as the people I’d grown up around…

he was better. More real. Less concerned with artifice.

“I think you’re beautiful,” I whispered, like it was a secret. “I told you before that I like the scars and wrinkles. They give you character, which is its own beauty. ”

He chuckled. “Good news for me, since there’s only going to be more of both as time goes on.”

I traced over the laugh lines at the corner of his mouth. “So, you think I’m going to fit in here, then?”

“Of course,” John said, pecking my lips. “Your family may not have loved you like you deserve, but I promise that mine will, if you let us.”

A swell of emotion rose in my chest. No one had ever accepted me so unconditionally.

I thought of the earlier breakfast with the Armstrongs, and my heart ached, once again, to belong.

Here I was, being offered the thing I’d wanted since I was a child, and I just had to be brave enough to take up the space I was being freely given.

I grabbed his face in my hands and pulled his lips to mine.

Surprised, he froze for a second before kissing me back enthusiastically, winding his hands in my hair.

I kissed him breathlessly, with abandon, until I felt the rigidness of his erection between us.

I broke apart, giggling, and he gave me a sheepish grin.

“I wish we weren’t in a child’s bedroom right now,” I said with a sigh. “I don’t think that bear on the wall would be impressed if we started… cuddling. ”

John laughed. “Kinda looks like he’s judging us, yeah.”

Even though there were two single beds, we climbed under the covers of the left one together.

We’d gotten used to sleeping close, sharing a sleeping bag in the cold winter, so we snuggled easily into the small space.

The bed was warm, and so comfortable compared to the frozen ground that I wanted to cry.

“Just wait till you see Summerhurst tomorrow,” John said softly against my hair. “I know these past months were tough, but you made it, baby.”

I smiled at a cluster of paper stars stuck to the ceiling.

“We all did.”