I think my former father-in-law just wants to be rid of us for a while, and although I’m in no hurry to reenter those walls anyway, there’s something I have to deal with. “Wait here,” I tell Rowan, and I run into the kitchen after Vaughn.
Vaughn stops walking when he reaches the hallway. With his back turned to me, he says, “How nice it must be, darling, that the boy you ran off with is still alive.”
My heart is in my throat. “Gabriel has nothing to do with all this,” I say. “And I’ve done everything you’ve asked.”
“Yes,” he says. “I suppose you have. Though you could allow a little time to pretend to grieve before replacing my son with the hired help.”
The word “pretend” hits me in the chest. So much of my time with Linden was just that, but surely Vaughn can recognize that this pain I’m feeling is real. I’ve been angry with Vaughn before, but now I want very much to take a swing at him, and I really think that I could. But the moment of satisfaction wouldn’t be worth the repercussions.
“Gabriel is not a replacement,” I say, in a measured tone. “He’s a person, and he’s done nothing to deserve what you’re doing to him.”
Vaughn’s shoulders tense. I think he’s going to turn around and face me, but he doesn’t. “It isn’t wise to make me angry with you right now,” he says. “I intend to hold up my end of the bargain, but there’s a certain etiquette to this matter.”
The elevator doors open, and he’s gone.
“Etiquette,” I say under my breath.
I return to my brother, furious and sad and drained.
“Are you feeling sick?” he asks. “Your eyes are a little glassy.”
“Let me give you the grand tour,” I say.
Things are buzzing in the gardens. I wonder if Rose and Linden have found each other in the orange grove, if they’re the ones rustling the leaves, if the orange that falls from its branch and rolls along the dirt is part of a game they’re playing. It taps my shoe.
“Hi,” I tell it.
“Who are you talking to?” Rowan says.
“I don’t know. Come on; I’ll show you the golf course.”
I lead my brother through the loveliest avenues of my prison, which will now be shared with him. It seems silly that I ever thought I could be free. If this cure really does what it’s supposed to, maybe I’ll outlive Vaughn. Maybe I’ll be free then.
And what will happen to Gabriel? How long is he going to remain in that state, gradually growing closer to his twenty-fifth birthday?
When we get to the pool, I turn on the hologram machine. The still water comes alive with guppies weaving anxiously through corals.
We sit at the water’s edge and watch them go.
“They look so real,” my brother says. I try to imagine how the two of us would look from Reed’s plane. Two little forms with blond hair. The color of our eyes wouldn’t matter. Whatever Vaughn has put into our blood wouldn’t matter. We’d be nothing but a moment flashing by.
I’d like very much to fly again. I close my eyes, try to remember that dizzying moment of weightlessness when I first felt myself lifting off the ground.
It’s quiet for a while, and then Rowan says, “We could talk now. We’re alone out here. No walls.”
“There are always walls,” I say.
Shortly before dinner Rowan uses his own key card to access the elevator. Once he’s made it to the guest floor, I ride the rest of the way to my own floor.
“Cecily?” I call as I step out of the elevator.
There’s no answer. I find her bedroom empty, one of Bowen’s bottles lying in her unmade bed. A sick feeling begins to form in my stomach. I hurry down the hall, and I check all the aisles in the library and the sitting room. The keyboard is on, its keys lighting up one by one as it waits for hands to play it. I check Jenna’s room, which remains pristine and untouched.
When I open the door to my own room, I’m greeted with the familiar smell of baby powder, and I find Cecily sleeping on my bed. Bowen is napping under her small, protective arm.
She’s wearing one of Linden’s button-up shirts; the open collar falls over her shoulder; the hem just about reaches her knees.
“Cecily,” I whisper, and sit on the edge of the bed.
She flinches and opens her eyes.
“Rhine?” Her voice is scratchy. “Rhine!” She sits upright. “Where have you been? Nobody would tell me anything. They wouldn’t even talk to me.”
“We can talk about it downstairs at dinner.” I frown and clear some of the tangled hair from her face. She doesn’t look well; if I hadn’t found her napping in my bed just now, I would think she hadn’t slept at all since I left.
“Dinner?” she says. “Downstairs?” She looks as though she’s just tasted something sour. “Then that means Housemaster Vaughn is back?”
“Come on,” I say, guiding her off the bed. “Let’s get you cleaned up. We don’t want Housemaster Vaughn to see you in Linden’s clothes.” I don’t know how it’s possible, but she smells like Linden and Jenna and Bowen, and nothing at all like herself.
She stumbles as I guide her to my bathroom. She sits on the edge of the tub, staring through me while I take a warm, damp towel to her face. She doesn’t seem to mind when I brush the knots from her hair, and there are a lot of them.
“Do you want your hair up or down?” I say.