“I did know that. And you changed the subject.”
She darts a glance at me and then looks away again, stuffing her hands in her back pockets. “I did. Because really, there’s not much more to the story. There was a boy. We met in junior high school. We’d been dating for a few years by the time I went back to Bosnia to visit. I decided to return to the US while my sister and aunt stayed there. When I came back, I moved in with him and his family. Two years later, he was killed in a car accident.”
I frown. “That’s sad. He was young.”
“Yes.” I study her face, trying to determine if she is sad. It’s a strange thing, grief. It cuts like a knife for the short days and months afterward, eventually dulling into an ache, then a tiny flinch of memory and regret.
“What was his name?”
“His name was Braco, but in this country, he went by Brock. His family is from Serbia, but they live here. I’m still close with them. They’re like my own family.”
I don’t know how to respond to this so I continue walking, and soon she continues. “In fact, I’m flying to Belgrade with them this summer and then traveling to Sarajevo for the wedding.”
“But you’ll come back so you can travel with the Ren Faire?”
“Yes.” She points up ahead of us at the castle. “Look, Sir William, I do believe it’s a castle to defend! Shall we go through and see if you can pull the sword out of the stone?”
I scoff. “That’s for kids.”
“Everyone’s a kid at Disneyland, Wil. That’s the beauty of it.”
“Well, I don’t do costumed people. They’re creepy.”
“The characters?”
I shudder. “Yes, we need to steer clear of those.”
She laughs. I love the sound of her laugh. It’s musical. And it’s times like this when I wish I could paint or draw a sound or emotion—that I could record them as clearly as I can record the things I see.
We make it past the sword in the stone in front of King Arthur’s Carousel and through the rest of Fantasyland without any incidents. And thankfully, no characters.
I find that my challenges with crowds are at their worst when we have to stand in long lines for the more popular attractions. Jenna uses those opportunities to practice visualization with me, and for the most part, I’m happy to say that it works.
One of the no-turnstile rides she found is Pirates of the Caribbean, and I end up enjoying this ride a lot. My favorite part about it is watching Jenna as she sits beside me, singing along with the music the entire way through. By the end of the ride, I’m happy that we came. It hasn’t been nearly as bad as I thought.
We don’t go anywhere near Adventureland though, and after dinner we resolve to do Space Mountain and Star Tours a few more times. I think she’s getting exhausted.
We’re coming out of the Haunted Mansion when everything changes in an instant.
There are sounds like lightning and thunder overhead. Startled, we both look up and I clap my hands over my ears. I’m grasping at anything to calm myself when, out of the corner of my eye, I notice Jenna collapse into a ball on the ground.
Is she sick? Hurt?
She’s curled in on herself, hugging her knees to her chest. People exiting the ride file out past us, jostling us, but I’m too concerned about Jenna to worry about any of them. I bend down next to her and ask, “Are you all right?”
Shaking and whimpering, she rocks back and forth, tucking her head down.
My blood runs cold as my mind races, trying to figure out what to do.
Chapter 19
Jenna
“Jenna…” Even with his mouth pressed to my ear, I could barely hear William through the fog of my sheer terror.
My mind was frozen twenty years in the past, held hostage in the moments between each explosion. My eyes shut tight, I recoiled with each new sky-splitting boom, and my breath came so quickly I became lightheaded. Just as I thought I might black out, arms wrapped tightly around me.
“Papa! Papa! Pomozi nam!”
It’s the third shelling this week. We haven’t been able to take the trip to get water since last Thursday. Mama says we can’t have baths until things calm down. We’re almost out of candles, so every night at sunset I cry in fear of the dark. And this time, the bombing is coming in the dark…
Suddenly, I was on the move, but not under my own power. Those arms were still around me, holding me fast against a hard, broad chest. I could feel William’s warm breath on my wet face.
“I’m sorry, sir. You can’t go in this way—”
“We’re going back inside,” he said with fierce determination. “She’s frightened by the fireworks.”
The voices sounded so far away, and all I could think of was whether or not I was strong enough to draw my next breath. Amazing how sounds could carry you straight back to your worst nightmare, and when they did, that’s all you could hear or see. It was like I was there again, in that small apartment, trying to call out to Maja, her not answering me. The smell of plaster and old wallpaper paste invading my nostrils.
“Follow me through the exit,” a voice said.
The booming, cracking and popping continued, but the terrifying sounds were fading. I peeled my eyelids open just enough to see that we were once again inside the exit room of the Haunted Mansion.
William spoke quietly and kissed my hair. I nestled against him with a whimper, unwilling to be a grownup just yet. Closing my eyes, I pressed my cheek to his collarbone. “Wil…”
“Hold on to me for as long as you need,” he whispered against my ear. I was barely aware of the crowd filing past us. The thudding of my own heart and the desperation of my own breath were the only sounds I could hear.
“Please don’t let go,” I said through my chattering teeth.
“I won’t. I won’t ever.”
“Can—can we just stay here ‘til they stop?”
There was some more discussion with someone I couldn’t see, and then William was speaking against my ear again. “The fireworks should be over in about six minutes.”
“Thank the goddess,” I said.
“Do you want to stand now?”
“No…if that’s okay with you.”
“You’re no heavier than my armor. It’s okay with me.”