House of Ivy & Sorrow

THIRTY-FIVE





“Ugh!” I almost throw Mom’s pendant out the window, but restrain myself just in time. The stupid thing won’t work no matter what I do. Toppling onto my bed, I stare at the crack in my ceiling. I even tried that as a pendant trigger, and all I got was a nice afternoon nap. But after yesterday’s miserable revelation that my boyfriend is probably a Shadow, this pendant is my best option. A long shot, but at least I can’t get Cursed while hiding in my room.

My phone buzzes on my nightstand, and I don’t dare look at it because it’s probably Winn again. The thought of talking to him fills me with panic. I’m too tempted to answer it, to fall deeper into whatever trap he’s laid. But then I think of Nana dying, and my resolve grows stronger. I can’t let her down like that. I have to focus on saving her.

“Jo?” my dad calls from the hall. When I don’t answer he taps on the door, and then he cracks it open. “Can I talk to you?”

I shrug. I’m still mad at him for not telling me about Nana, but part of me wants to cry on his shoulder and tell him all the horrible things that have happened in the past few days.

The door swings open, and that’s when I notice the sleek white box he carries. It’s my computer. I suck in my excitement, trying to look as indifferent as possible. He can’t buy me off. I mentally repeat that as he sets it on my bed. I want so badly to reach out and touch it, but I hold back. “You think this will fix everything?”

“No, but it arrived and I thought you’d like to have it. Just because you’re mad at me doesn’t mean I’ll keep a gift out of spite.”

Ugh, how am I supposed to resist when he’s so nice? “You should have told me about Nana.”

“Perhaps.” He looks at his hands. “We weren’t sure how it would progress, Jo. Your mother had it for a few years, and Dorothea didn’t want to raise the alarm if she had that long to figure it out. If we’d known this guy would drain her so quickly, yes, maybe the decision would have been different. But she didn’t know.”

I put a finger to the glossy box. “Even if we had a few years, you still should have told me. I’m not a little girl anymore, and I’ll be the next head of this house. I have a right to know when my family members get hurt.”

He purses his lips. “You’ll have to talk to your grandmother about it.”

“I . . .” I haven’t talked to Nana since I found out. Every time I think about it, my stomach gets sloshy and sick. There is so much to tell her, but I can’t watch her die like I watched Mom.

“She keeps asking about you, and Maggie is already tired of being grilled for updates.” He stands. “I can’t imagine how hard this is, but don’t forget that this isn’t only about you. Dorothea deserves much more than a cold shoulder, considering all she’s done for you.”

Watching him go, I’m stunned by the reproach. He shuts my door, but I continue staring at it, baffled that my dad is . . . a dad. How did it happen so quickly? That guilt trip made it feel like he’s been parenting for years. I glance at my pretty computer box, but I can’t get myself to open it. Instead, I flop back into my pillows, the remorse cutting straight to my heart.

He’s right. Of course he is.

I shouldn’t punish Nana, but I can’t help thinking about how long she kept my mother’s illness from me, too. Apparently, Mom had been Cursed around the time I turned four. I was too little to remember or to even know she was sick, so they hid it from me.

Nana didn’t tell me until I was six and a half, and by then I’d already noticed how quickly Mom got tired and how often she needed to go to the bathroom. I just didn’t know it was to throw up the black blood. It was bad enough learning Mom was that sick, but worse to know she’d been that way for a long time while I lived like nothing was wrong. I took her for granted, not knowing how little time I’d actually have with her.

I squeeze my eyes shut. No more crying. I’m so tired of this emptiness, this constant ache in my chest, as if I’ve lost part of my soul.

Grief is such a strange thing. Sometimes it seems to be gone entirely, but then one smell or sound or memory and it’s as if it was waiting there, in the shadows, until you noticed it following you.

Lavender envelops me, and I tense. My lungs can’t seem to get enough of it; they beg to breathe in more to make sure the scent is still there.

That’s when I realize only a moment of true grief can trigger the pendant. The voices kick in, but these sounds make me wonder if I want to look. I venture a peek and quickly shield my eyes again. Yup, that’s my mom and dad doing it. Apparently, the memories don’t come in order. Good to know. I really wish I could plug my ears, but I want to know when it switches.

This is way too much information.

“I love you, more than anything in the world.” Dad’s voice is surprisingly the same as it is now.

“And I love you forever,” Mom says.

As awkward as it is, I can’t help feeling sad, too. They were so happy, and she left because of me. Because of her duty to this house. She used to get this far-off look in her eyes, her smile sad and wistful. I wonder if all those times she was thinking of him.

“Mom!” My mother’s voice bursts with excitement, and I figure it’s safe to look if Nana’s there. My heart stops at the sight of her belly, so large I can’t see her feet on the other end of the living-room couch. Her breathing is ragged, and her arms glisten with sweat. “I think it’s time!”

Nana comes into view, her face much younger than I ever remember it. She hands Mom a rag. “Bite down on that; don’t want you harming your jaw when the pain really kicks in. You think the contractions hurt? Well, you’re in for it.”

“Hardly comforting, Ma.”

I snort. Ah, Nana.

She checks Mom out down there, which I’m really glad I can’t see. “She’s ready, darling. Next time you get a contraction, push like you have to pass a—”

“I know!” she yells. “We’ve gone over this for nine months!”

And then she pushes. For a long time. Mom screams and snaps at Nana anytime she tries to give direction, and I start to wonder why this ended up in the Good Memories category because it scares the crap out of me.

“One more, Carmina. You’re almost there.” Nana takes hold of a goopy lavender blob I can only assume is me. So relieved this is not in color. Baby Me lets out a wail, and Nana holds me up for Mom to see. Even through all the nasty and monochrome, my hair is jet-black. “You did it, honey, and she’s beautiful!”

Mom’s hands reach out, eager to their fingertips. “Let me hold her.”

Nana cleans me and wraps me in a blanket. Then Mom takes me in her arms. I can hear her sniffling as she says, “Hi, beautiful. It’s so nice to finally meet you.” She kisses my forehead. “Oh, I wish Joseph were here to see you. He would love you as much as I do.”

She feeds me, which is kind of awkward, but I’m mesmerized by Baby Me, by how crisp this memory is, making the others seem a little hazy. Her joy is so intense I can feel it through the spell.

The scene changes, and it’s the first one I recognize. She’s in her bed, holding on to this very pendant, as I come bursting through the door in all my awkward childhood glory. My frizzy hair is worse than I remember, and I’m covered in dirt. No, those are my freckles. Mostly. I proudly hold up a massive bullfrog. “Look what I caught, Mom!”

“Wow!” she says, her voice not betraying how sick she was at this time.

“Nana said that if I found a big one it would make a stronger spell for you.” I kiss the frog. “I think this one will make you all better!”

She laughs. “I think so, too.”

I come over and give her a big kiss . . . with my frog-slime lips. “I love you, Mommy. I’m gonna give this to Nana now.”

“Come back when you’re done?”

I nod, my hair bouncing wildly with the action. “I’ll bring you a pudding!”

She laughs loudly as I skip out the door. I’d forgotten how perfect her laugh was, warm and sincere, never mocking. It filled you with sunshine, made you want to do anything to hear it again. I never thought about it, but even when she was sick, she didn’t stop being that happy person I remember.

The scene changes again, and my eyes go wide. I know this one, too—she’s in San Francisco with Stacia, when she meets Dad for the first time.

“Don’t worry, Carmina,” Stacia says. “They’re nice. Well, except Jeff, but I’ll protect you from him.”

She gives her sunshine laugh. “Thanks.”

“There they are.” One of the other girls points to a group of guys outside a café. Dad’s there, but he’s not the one I can’t stop looking at. Next to him, tall and brooding, is a boy that looks exactly like Levi.