He turns his attention back to the controls as we complete docking. The clamps settle around his sub with a solid, metallic clang, and I hear the whirring sound of the station’s airlock coupling with ours. Paul puts one hand under my knees and stands with me in his arms, carrying me to the portal.
When the door swooshes open, Josie is standing on the other side to check in the latest refugees. She startles as she sees me. “Marguerite?”
“We wrecked,” I say. “Theo’s still out there. I swam up the first couple hundred feet; Paul picked me up from there.”
“Holy crap. You crashed the submersible?” Josie puts her hands on her hips. “And exactly how many guys are showing up to visit you today?”
“I think she’s a little out of it,” Paul says to Josie, as he gently settles me back on my feet. “At any rate, she could use something warm to drink and a lot of rest. And I know Marguerite wants to see her father.”
I say, “I can hear you, you know.” But Paul might not be wrong about my being out of it. I’m overwhelmed physically, emotionally, you name it. Right now I only want to curl back into Paul’s arms.
I take Josie’s hand and let her help me over the step. She guides me to one of the benches as she says, “Aren’t you coming?”
“No,” Paul replies.
“Paul?” I look back at him. He stands there in his own sub, his T-shirt and slacks striped with water, the Firebird hanging around his neck. He looks at me as if he’s drinking me in, as if he’s trying to memorize me. “What are you doing?”
“The storm’s blowing in hard. Theo’s in a broken submersible hanging over the edge of the trench. I can’t leave him out there.”
Josie turns on me. “Wait, what? You wrecked in the trench?”
I ignore this. “If it’s dangerous for him, it’s dangerous for you. And he’s the one who started it.”
“The Theo who spied on us started it,” Paul agrees. “But the Theo from this dimension never hurt us. He doesn’t deserve to die for someone else’s sins. And . . . he’s Theo.”
He’s right—so right it shames me. “I shouldn’t have stranded him down there.”
“You stranded that guy? On purpose?” By now Josie is beside herself.
Paul takes one step toward me, his gray eyes intense. “You did what you had to do, to save your father and yourself. Don’t blame yourself for a situation someone else put you in. But I have to rescue Theo if I can.”
“You just had to ditch me one more time on this trip, huh?”
“Marguerite—”
But I can’t even deal any longer. “Go, and come back in one piece, or I swear to God I will kick your ass.”
Paul touches my face—his thumb against my still-wet lips, like a kiss—then steps back into his sub. His hand thumps a panel on the wall, and the doors slide shut again.
When I turn to Josie, she’s staring at me like I grew a second head. Very quietly she says, “Do I even want to know what’s going on?”
“No.”
She exhales, puffing out her cheeks in frustration—but instantly she’s back to business. “We need the airlock. Let’s go.”
Within minutes, I’m standing at one of the lower windows, watching Paul’s white sub vanish into the murky waters. I press my palm against the cold glass.
“Marguerite?” I turn my head to see Dad walking toward me, concern etched into every line of his face. “Josie’s in a state. She’s told me what happened, or what she thinks happened, but the story doesn’t make a lot of sense. Are you all right?”
I can’t tell whether he remembers himself right now or not. It doesn’t matter.
“I’m all right.” I fish out the other Firebird and put it in his hand. “We’re going home.”
27
I OPEN MY EYES.
This time, there’s no sensation of force, no moment of disorientation. Instead it’s almost as if I nodded off for a moment, then gently woke. Slowly, I look around. Night has fallen here, but only just—the western edge of the sky is still a paler blue, tinted faintly pink at the horizon. I’m sitting on the steps of our deck, wearing my lace dress with my father’s cardigan over it, both hands clasping the Firebird around my neck. In other words, I’m in the exact same position I was when I left a month ago.
“I’m home,” I whisper. “I’m home.”
Quickly I scramble up the back steps and to the sliding glass doors. As usual, Mom hasn’t locked them, so I run inside. The sight of my own house fills me with almost delirious happiness: Piles of paper! Physics equations on the walls! Mom’s potted plants! Even the rainbow table—
—and, sitting on the sofa, Mom.
She gasps, “Marguerite!”
“Mom!” I run to her, but she meets me halfway. Her arms go around me so tightly that I realize anew how badly I must have scared her these past few weeks. “I’m so sorry, Mom, but I made it. We made it.”
“You’re safe? You’re well?” Tears spill down my mother’s face as she brushes my hair back from my face. “But you didn’t hurt Paul, did you? We decoded his note hours after we got yours—”