It had not taken long with Maggie and Jared working together for them to decipher Jeb’s riddle. The four of them had gotten to the caves before I’d moved from Chicago to San Diego.
When Jamie and I spoke of Melanie, it was not as difficult as it should have been. She was always a part of these conversations—soothing his pain, smoothing my awkwardness—though she had little to say. She rarely spoke to me anymore, and when she did it was muted; now and then I wasn’t sure if I really heard her or just my own idea of what she might think. But she made an effort for Jamie. When I heard her, it was always with him. When she didn’t speak, we both felt her there.
“Why is Melanie so quiet now?” Jamie asked me late one night. For once, he wasn’t grilling me about Spiders and Fire-Tasters. We were both tired—it had been a long day pulling carrots. The small of my back was in knots.
“It’s hard for her to talk. It takes so much more effort than it takes you and me. She doesn’t have anything she wants to say that badly.”
“What does she do all the time?”
“She listens, I think. I guess I don’t know.”
“Can you hear her now?”
“No.”
I yawned, and he was quiet. I thought he was asleep. I drifted in that direction, too.
“Do you think she’ll go away? Really gone?” Jamie suddenly whispered. His voice caught on the last word.
I was not a liar, and I don’t think I could have lied to Jamie if I were. I tried not to think about the implications of my feelings for him. Because what did it mean if the greatest love I’d ever felt in my nine lives, the first true sense of family, of maternal instinct, was for an alien life-form? I shoved the thought away.
“I don’t know,” I told him. And then, because it was true, I added, “I hope not.”
“Do you like her like you like me? Did you used to hate her, like she hated you?”
“It’s different than how I like you. And I never really hated her, not even in the beginning. I was very afraid of her, and I was angry that because of her I couldn’t be like everyone else. But I’ve always, always admired strength, and Melanie is the strongest person I’ve ever known.”
Jamie laughed. “You were afraid of her?”
“You don’t think your sister can be scary? Remember the time you went too far up the canyon, and when you came home late she ‘threw a raging hissy fit,’ according to Jared?”
He chuckled at the memory. I was pleased, having distracted him from his painful question.
I was eager to keep the peace with all my new companions in any way I could. I thought I was willing to do anything, no matter how backbreaking or smelly, but it turned out I was wrong.
“So I was thinking,” Jeb said to me one day, maybe two weeks after everyone had “calmed down.”
I was beginning to hate those words from Jeb.
“Do you remember what I was saying about you maybe teaching a little here?”
My answer was curt. “Yes.”
“Well, how ’bout it?”
I didn’t have to think it through. “No.”
My refusal sent an unexpected pang of guilt through me. I’d never refused a Calling before. It felt like a selfish thing to do. Obviously, though, this was not the same. The souls would have never asked me to do something so suicidal.
He frowned at me, scrunching his caterpillar eyebrows together. “Why not?”
“How do you think Sharon would like that?” I asked him in an even voice. It was just one example, but perhaps the most forceful.
He nodded, still frowning, acknowledging my point.
“It’s for the greater good,” he grumbled.
I snorted. “The greater good? Wouldn’t that be shooting me?”
“Wanda, that’s shortsighted,” he said, arguing with me as if my answer had been a serious attempt at persuasion. “What we have here is a very unusual opportunity for learning. It would be wasteful to squander that.”
“I really don’t think anyone wants to learn from me. I don’t mind talking to you or Jamie —”
“Doesn’t matter what they want,” Jeb insisted. “It’s what’s good for them. Like chocolate versus broccoli. Ought to know more about the universe—not to mention the new tenants of our planet.”
“How does it help them, Jeb? Do you think I know something that could destroy the souls? Turn the tide? Jeb, it’s over.”
“It’s not over while we’re still here,” he told me, grinning so I knew he was teasing me again. “I don’t expect you to turn traitor and give us some super-weapon. I just think we should know more about the world we live in.”
I flinched at the word traitor. “I couldn’t give you a weapon if I wanted to, Jeb. We don’t have some great weakness, an Achilles’ heel. No archenemies out there in space who could come to your aid, no viruses that will wipe us out and leave you standing. Sorry.”
“Don’t sweat it.” He made a fist and tapped it playfully against my arm. “You might be surprised, though. I told you it gets boring in here. People might want your stories more than you think.”