The Appearance of Annie van Sinderen

I’m in the middle of a quiet, leafy block, standing opposite a metal gate that is locked shut with a giant rusted padlock and chain. As I gaze upon it, the gate seems to shimmer, as though the iron had been dipped in the thinnest layer of gold. It’s just a trick of the light, but I move nearer, peering between the bars.

The gate protects a kind of hidden garden, tucked between two buildings, and thrown completely in shadow by the raking afternoon sun. No one is inside. I lift my hand and rest it against the iron bars. They feel cool to the touch, cool and real. It looks so quiet in there. Quiet and safe. It looks like a perfect place to rest. And I’m so tired, all of a sudden. I’m so tired of running, and the rumbling, and being confused and lost and alone, and I can’t find my way anywhere I want to go, and I can’t get anyone’s attention except when I don’t want it. If I can only go in there to rest for a little while, everything will be all right.

I lightly touch the iron bars with my hand, and the gate swings obediently open with a welcoming creak. I sigh with relief. I pass through the gate into the shadows, feeling the springy turf under my slippers, the inviting breath of the shade. I just have to sit down. I have to rest, for a minute. A few shapes loom here and there in the darkness, but I don’t pay any attention to them. I wander without any special purpose until I find the most perfect, comfortable spot, a tuft of grass and dandelions in full white puff nestled up against the garden wall. With a heavy sigh I sink down to the earth, stretching my legs out in front of me and leaning my weight against the wall. My cheek presses against the coolness there, and I find this portion of the wall is made of marble, surrounded on all sides by brick.

It feels so good, to be sitting here.

I close my eyes.

My breath comes soft and easy.

I sit that way for a long time. I might have drifted off to sleep, but I don’t think so. I just want to close my eyes and be quiet for a little while. And so I let myself rest against this wonderful marble wall, which seems like it was made just for me.

? ? ?

After a time the backs of my eyelids glow red, and I feel a warm sunbeam move onto my face. I open my eyes, squinting into the light and rubbing my eyes with my knuckles. I feel better. I listen, and hear no more rumbling. I heave an enormous sigh, the kind Mother pinches me for making in church, and stretch my arms luxuriously over my head. My spine pops, and I roll my head back and forth on my shoulders, stretching this way and that. I’d like to loosen the lacing that’s holding my corsetry together, but I can’t reach the laces in back. I’ll just have to be too tight for now.

The sun has moved, and I realize I’m late, and they’ll be missing me at home. I have to get back. I’ll get a message to Herschel when we get to Aunt Mehitable’s. It’ll be all right.

I struggle to my feet, brushing bits of grass and dandelion fluff from the silk of my dress, hoping I haven’t made myself too odious.

I’m mid-brush when I notice that the sunbeam is falling across the marble panel in the wall where I’d been leaning my head.

“What?” I say aloud.

I take a step back, and slip on a clod of dirt, almost losing my balance.

There’s carving on the marble slab, but it’s difficult to make out. It looks like the carving has been there for a long time, and has partly melted away in the rain.

Slowly, tremblingly, I stretch my hand forward to trace the barely legible letters.

They spell V A N S I N D E R E N.

“What?” I say again, but it’s hard to speak because my lower lip is trembling.