I write my dad a letter, and I give it to Sabine.
“He’ll want to know I’m ok,” I tell her. She nods because of course he will.
She hands me a cup of tea.
In England, tea fixes everything.
“Is Dare here?” I ask casually, because even now, he’s the sun and I’m the moon. I need his light to live.
She shakes her head. “No. He’ll be back though, child. He always comes back.”
What a strange thing to say.
But I don’t dwell on it.
Instead, I think about light.
I think about how the moonlight is really a reflection of the sun, of how the moon doesn’t create any light at all. So a thing that seems to radiate silvery, ethereal light is really the darkest of the dark.
I’m the moon.
And I have no light of my own.
I need Dare for that.
But if he’s the sun, he’ll burn me.
And my metaphors are making me sick.
I retreat to the gardens, where I’m surrounded by flowers and silence.
All I have are my thoughts here, and my mind is a scary place.
I close my eyes and will my memories to return, But all I can see is the past.
The past I know.
Not the things that I don’t.
My mother’s screams haunt me.
Finn’s headstone, my tears.
His journal, which I left at home.
I wish I’d brought it.
At least I’d feel closer to him, even though his words were crazy.
I picture a page filled with scribble, with his familiar handwriting and scratched out words.
With perfect clarity, I remember it.
Calla will save me.
Or I will die.
I will die.
I will die.
Serva me, serva bo te.
Save me and I’ll save you.
A shudder runs through me because I couldn’t.
I couldn’t save Finn.
And no amount of words and consolation… from my father, from Dare, from Sabine… no amount of argument can change that.
You survived them for a reason.
Sabine’s nonsense comes back to me, and I ponder it.
For what reason?
I don’t know.
Is my reason to save Dare, like Jane saved Mr. Rochester?
I don’t know.
All I know is I have to uncover his truth if I am ever to save anything.
The truth will set us all free.
Chapter 7
I’m lost again.
Whitley is so large that I find I’m perpetually lost. Somehow, I find myself outside of Eleanor’s study today, and I hear her voice coming from within.
Reaching out to grip the doorknobs, I pause because she doesn’t seem happy. With the door already cracked, I can hear the words loud and clear.
“She’s not well, Eleanor,” Sabine says in her creaky voice. “She needs rest and solitude, I fear.”
“Then she’ll get it here at Whitley,” Eleanor says impatiently. “I don’t see the reason for your concern.”
“She’s lost everything,” Sabine offers. “And you don’t offer her anything but shelter. Perhaps if you would just tell her…”
“Tell her what?” Eleanor snaps. “Remind her that…”
“Haven’t you heard it’s impolite to eavesdrop?”
Dare steps around me, studying me curiously. He’s handsome, he’s enigmatic, he’s in my personal space. He also doesn’t want me to hear what they’re saying.
I take a breath. “What is everyone hiding from me?” I ask him bluntly.
He shakes his head. “It’s nothing.”
It’s everything. I feel it.
“I need to know,” I insist. He stares at me.
“You’re here to recover, Calla. To rest, to come back to yourself…”
“But you said that I’m not safe,” I remind him. “Shouldn’t I know from what?”
He’s uncomfortable now, and his dark eyes seem to shimmer. “So much has happened to this family. You don’t need to think about it right now. You’re just going to have to trust me.”
I wish I could.
“This is madness,” I whisper.