The Speed of Mercy by Christy Conlin (adventure books to read .txt) 📗

anything, for not rushing into the house to help. For not rushing to the closest house and calling the police. Stella wants to believe Cynthia’s made-up tale so she can excuse her own cowardice.

Granny comes in with a tray. “Have some iced tea, dear. And it’s just a glass . . . just a glass. Our precious girl. You people, you have to pay more attention, all of you. We should have brought you with us, Cynthia. Although I didn’t need to go to the hospital in the first place. Frank, you’re just as bad as Sally, so don’t go blaming her. Who will keep these girls safe?”

Frank’s face changes ever so slightly, his lips shifting a bit to the left, and then creeping back, but no one seems to notice but Stella.

“Stella, be a dear and bring in the cookies. I left them in the kitchen.” Granny has set the tray down and pats her cheek. “It’s terribly upsetting for you, all of this. We need a quiet summer for the girls, for everybody.”

Stella’s father sits in the kitchen fiddling with his sunglasses and absentmindedly flicking his chin, as though a fly keeps landing on it. He looks up as Stella comes in and picks up the plate of cookies. “I’m sorry I was harsh, Stella. I just couldn’t believe you weren’t here. Where were you?”

It’s her opportunity. She will tell her father the truth. He will fix everything. He will deal with Tommy Jessome. She licks her lips, tastes the blood, feels the swelling in the middle of her bottom lip and rubs it with her tongue. But her father speaks first, as he hands her the sunglasses. “Take these. You should be wearing sunglasses when you’re outside. The doctor told you that. You can use mine for now. I must have left them here. Cynthia said she found them out in the grass.” He shakes the aviator glasses at Stella, impatient. She takes them and puts them in the back pocket of her shorts and carries the cookies to the front room.

Stella stands by the window while Granny and Frank fuss over Cynthia. Stella studies Cynthia’s blank face, wondering about what Cynthia saw, if she saw anything. And then Cynthia opens her dark eyes and smiles as she focuses on Stella, Cynthia’s eyes shining still waters, whatever she knows hidden in the depths.

Outside, Stella retrieves her bike, wanting to get a head start as her father finishes up his visit. He wants her to go home and put on a casserole, or fix something for dinner. When she mounts her bike she notices the weather vane mermaid has plunged off the carriage house and crashed onto the grass — the sound that had disturbed Tommy’s assault on Cynthia.

The next day the girls help Granny in the garden, putting early September roses in vases, filling the sunroom and parlour with rich fragrance and shocking colour. They cook supper for Granny. They go for a walk after because it’s been an unseasonably warm day and the evening is warm too. Summer has gone into reverse and come back. Cynthia is quieter than usual but doesn’t seem depressed or upset. She links arms with Stella, as though nothing has happened and it’s still her job to take care of her. Stella wonders why Cynthia is hiding what Tommy Jessome did to her. Is she afraid of what else he might do? Has this happened before? She is afraid for Cynthia but she is also afraid of Cynthia.

They walk through the marsh to the beach. It’s a glorious sunset, a serenade to the day, to the summer that has passed, but they are a sombre lot in the face of such beauty and wildness. Granny tells them about sea glass and precious gems, how these have powers. When Stella and Cynthia ask what the powers are, Granny points to the water, out across the breakers where the water disappears in the far horizon, whatever might be there lost in the distance.

“There is much I need to teach you girls, although there isn’t much time. It’s September. The moon is changing. We all were sisters in the Offing Society. It goes back to the Old World, the old ways, when we came over the water originally, coming to settle on land we shouldn’t be on, leaving our homes, creating a cycle of shame. But we understood the connection between the land and the sea in the olden days. And the women kept those ways, my people — the O’Clearys — and your grandmother Morgana. She was very strong. We have it written in our book, The Commonplace Book. But it’s been missing for years. You must find it. It’s in your blood, Stella, in your tears, your inheritance, this power, and it will save you. But I must teach you. I’m the last one now. You must not go to Mercy Lake. Do you understand? I had a dream. A vision. They will try to divide you. You must not let them.”

Stella is afraid. Granny sounds crazy, and Stella worries that Frank is correct, that she’s lost now in a briny wash of dementia, that Cynthia is protecting her, that she’s trying to stop the future from arriving. Stella doesn’t want to tell Granny she has found the book but the pages are blank.

“We’ll take the salt water cure, girls. Stella Violette, we’ll keep you safe. You must not go to Mercy Lake.”

Cynthia and Stella don’t correct her.

Cynthia clearly knows what they are doing, and has done it before. They create a triangle, each at a point, and facing the sea. Granny is at the front. She lifts up her arms. The sky is hysterically orange and red. Granny calls out and Cynthia answers. They make strange noises, singing, wailing, grunting. They stop, waiting for Stella, who lets out a howl. It’s pure grief, not any words or incantations, the misery pouring out in a call to her mother who is gone.