Ma shifts her head on my lap, and then her voice comes weakly. “We shouldn’t be imposing. We don’t even have a house gift.”
I let out a strangled laugh. Of all the trivial things to worry about.
“It’s okay,” I say to her. “They won’t mind, I’m sure.”
“Have they taken Thea to the hospital?” Linus asks Tom.
“No,” Tom says. “Thea left very explicit directions that she doesn’t want to be taken to a hospital again. That doesn’t really matter, anyway. The Floreses have essentially brought the hospital to her.”
He slows to make a turn onto a narrow road, and after we pass under a wooden sign that reads “Flores,” he speeds up again. I barely notice the passing blur of greenery. A new truth has suddenly become horribly clear. After all we’ve been through in the past twenty-four hours—losing Larry, the deaths of Berg, Ian, the doctors and Whistler, plus the obliteration of hunderds of dreamers—if Thea dies, I’ll have failed miserably. It wasn’t enough to save Dubbs and Ma. I need to make sure Thea’s alive, too.
I tighten my hand into a fist and press my thumbnail against the gap in my front teeth.
“It’s going to be all right, Rosie,” Burnham says in his husky voice.
I let out a laugh. He doesn’t know that. We jolt over a pit and I brace my knee on the back of the seat before me.
Arself? I ask uncertainly. Are you with me?
She hasn’t spoken since we were down in the vault, and the last hint I had of her was the strength she gave me to help Ma and Burnham out of the park. Maybe my vision of the dragon flying over the flames was from her, too, though I don’t know. It hardly matters. It was beautiful, and tragic, and right. Arself doesn’t answer me now. She’s never been one to surface on command, even though I could use her comfort.
I blink as the car pulls to a stop.
“We’re here,” Tom says.
On a slope overlooking a wide, grassy valley, a mansion sprawls in rustic phases of wood and stone. Upper windows reflect the sky, and worn, satiny rockers beckon from the porch. Massive trees drop pools of cool shade on the lawn, and a cast iron bell tops a pole near a raised bed of flowers. A sweet fragrance, maybe honeysuckle, drifts on the air, and I can feel the exclusive hush of privacy and wealth.
“Althea grew up here?” I ask.
“She sure did,” Tom says.
Only now do I recall that Thea’s family wasn’t too keen on Tom. I wonder if that’s changed lately with the birth of his baby.
Linus comes around to give me a hand with Ma. She’s able to walk now, but she’s far from steady. Dubbs goes ahead beside Burnham, and Tom brings up the rear. The front door of the house opens, and a beagle comes out to bark from the porch. An old man follows.
“?Silencio, Solana! ?Ya, deja de hacer tanto ruido!” he says, and the dog quiets. The man lifts a hand and smiles. “We’re so glad you’re here. Come in!”
Dubbs shifts closer to Burnham, but she’s all eyes for the dog.
“Does your dog speak Spanish?” Dubbs asks.
The man smiles and leans down to take the dog by the collar. “Si, she does. Do you want to pet her? She’s friendly. Her name’s Solana.”
It feels bizarre to have cordial introductions when we’ve just come from Grisly and we’re all thinking about Thea, but that’s what happens. The old man, Thea’s grandfather, asks us to call him Tito. Thea’s parents quickly join us. Diego’s tall and broad-shouldered, with a quiet, sober demeanor. It’s obvious that Thea gets her eyes and Latina coloring from him. Her mother, Madeline, is a petite, fair woman with short, silver hair that sticks out in a staticky halo, and she radiates both friendliness and high-strung energy.
As soon as Madeline meets Ma, she takes charge, bustling her off upstairs to a guest room. A frosty pitcher of iced tea stands on a silver tray with matching glasses, and a fresh bouquet sits on the bedside table.
“We can all get properly acquainted after you’ve rested,” Madeline says, drawing a curtain across the window with a soft rustle. “Not another word until then. We have a highly trained nurse on staff, and I can send her up to look in on you. Also, I had my assistant pick up a few clothes for you. They should be here in the closet.” She opens a door and glances inside. “Yes. And the bathroom’s through there. Anything you want, you just call down and we’ll get it for you, all right?”
Ma looks at me, amazed, but as Madeline leaves us, she sags onto the bed. It’s a big one, with a carved wooden headboard and a white, nubby spread, and Ma spreads out her fingers over the fabric as if she’s never touched anything like it before. With her dirty dress and limp hair, she looks completely out of place. We all do.
“Who are these people?” Ma says.
“I told you. They’re Thea’s parents, and she’s a friend of mine.”
“But what do they do?” Ma says.
“I’m not sure,” I say, trying to recall if Thea ever mentioned what her parents did for a living. “Burnham said they made their fortune in the helium business, I think.”
Dubbs is busy rustling through the closet. “Check this out,” she says, holding up a hanger with a green dress in her size. She fingers the price tag. “It’s new,” she says reverently. She holds the fabric up to herself before the mirror and then heads into the bathroom.
“What would Larry think of all this?” Ma says.
It’s the first time she’s mentioned him, and I feel a tick of alarm. I sit slowly on the bed beside her. “Ma,” I say softly. But then I don’t know how to go on.
She gives me a weak, sad smile. “My sweet Rosie, always so fearless. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you when you first told me the truth about Berg back at Forge. I should have.”
I shake my head. I don’t want to hear this now. “It’s okay.”
“No. Leaving you there was the worst mistake of my life,” she says. “Even Larry knew better.”
“Ma,” I say. My throat’s tightening.
“Are you safe now? Is Berg still after you?” Ma asks.
“No,” I say. “That’s all done. He’s dead.”
She pats my arm and then frowns. Her troubled blue eyes search mine.
“Larry’s dead, too, isn’t he?” she asks.
I nod.
She nods, too, and then her gaze slants away. “I thought as much.”
I never liked Larry, but I know Ma loved him, and I hate seeing the tears brimming in her eyes. I can’t begin to describe what happened at Grisly. “There was an accident of sorts,” I say. Major understatement.
She holds up a hand to stop me. “You can tell me all about it later,” she says. Her chin trembles. “I should really take a shower,” she adds, but instead, she slowly topples over on the bed.