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

as she hears the car engine idling and then driving down the lane. He beeps and beeps the horn. She gives him the finger. Inside, she takes a sharp breath, smoothing her hair, trying to compose herself.

Stella finds Granny and Cynthia inside making blueberry jam with late-summer berries. Granny intently screws lids onto the glass jars. Then Granny wants to go outside. She’s flushed and her hair is messy. She looks how Stella feels inside. The girls follow her out to the garden where she sits in a chair beside the abandoned attempt at the Celtic knot garden she had them working on a few days before.

“Why don’t I make some sandwiches, Granny?”

The old lady doesn’t look at them.

Cynthia takes Stella into the house to make ham and lettuce sandwiches. “I’m sorry your mom left,” Stella says as she spreads mustard on the bread. The old house seems extra creaky today, in sympathy with them, Stella thinks.

“Yeah. Whatever.” Cynthia takes the knife and hacks away at the cold picnic ham.

Stella and Cynthia are in their nightgowns having cinnamon toast and milk at the kitchen table. Granny is not yet ready for bed but she’s making a pot of sleeping tea, she calls it, from mint and passionflower and chamomile. Granny sits at the table while the concoction steeps under a tea cozy. It smells lovely as it brews, and for a moment Stella convinces herself that this is all for the best, the two motherless girls here. That maybe she can convince her father to let her live at Cedar Grove, and he can live at the Faculty House. The only problem is Cynthia and her impervious face. Stella wonders now if her seemingly devoted friend might turn on her. What if she knows that Stella was outside the window when Tommy Jessome attacked her? What if she is planning revenge for the stolen paper?

There is a strange knock on the back door. One knock followed by three shorter knocks, repeated three times. Granny doesn’t move or speak. The knocking repeats, Cynthia watching Granny. The air in the room feels alive, heavy and thick, and the overhead light seems to dim for a moment. Stella puts her head down. She looks at her socks and wonders when they became grey. When Stella lifts her chin up, Granny is looking at her. “You’re one of us, you know, Stella Maris, star of the sea.” Then she points towards the back door. “Cynthia, see who it is.”

Cynthia opens the door to the porch where a woman stands, bags under her eyes. She looks older than she is, fatigue pulling her mouth down, early middle-aged but an old lady at the same time. At her side is a young girl, about Cynthia and Stella’s age. She has dark braids and tattered jean shorts. It’s chilly and she has only a green T-shirt on, her arms covered in goosebumps. They both stare at Cynthia, with her black dress and eyeliner, her teased wild cloud of hair. Cynthia stares back. The curiosity of two strangers in Seabury knocking at the door in the purple hour.

Granny picks up her cane. “Martha. Goodness. It’s late for you to have come all this way from the Lupin Cove Road. I haven’t seen you in years. And who is this?”

“This is my daughter, Seraphina. Say hello.” The middle-aged woman named Martha pushes the girl forward. She doesn’t seem afraid, just nervous, shifting from foot to foot. “Hello, Mrs. Seabury.”

“Ah, your daughter. Named for a fire spirit.” Granny looks at Martha, who stares back.

“I need to speak with you.”

Granny shoos Stella and Cynthia out of the kitchen. “Go to the front parlour, please, girls. Close the back door behind you.”

They leave and close the door but the girls do not go to the front parlour. Cynthia and Stella hide behind the door to the kitchen listening, Stella looking through the keyhole.

Seraphina turns her head towards the kitchen door and Stella sees the girl sniff the air. Seraphina keeps looking at the door, blinking, cocking her head. Stella is sure Seraphina knows that she and Cynthia are on the other side.

“I need a tea for my daughter. I need something to keep her safe. She’s thirteen now.”

“I see. And why don’t you go to the Flying Squirrel Road?”

“Because Lucretia is in prison. You know very well why.”

“Yes, I suppose I do.”

“Can you help me? I’m afraid for Serrie. I’m afraid for myself. It’s desperate times. They have that stupid Sodality. Just when you think things have fallen away. They’ll never stop.”

“And what is it you think I can do for her?”

“I know you still know the old ways. From the sea.”

Seraphina hasn’t spoken. She stands quietly while Granny and the other woman talk.

Stella hears the thump of Granny’s cane, and through the keyhole sees her shuffle across the floor into the porch. Cynthia opens the kitchen door and takes Stella’s sweaty hand as they creep into the kitchen and peer into the porch. Granny with a silver tin, measuring something into a paper bag. Muttering something into Martha’s ear. It isn’t any language Stella recognizes. Martha’s eyes are closed and she bows her head as Granny whispers. Martha opens her eyes and Granny Scotia strokes her cheeks. “You understand, Martha? You must keep her safe. I know you’re tired. I know how long the years can be. Keep watch. You must keep watch. Lucretia will come back. She always does.”

Stella sees Seraphina in the porch with Granny and Martha, looking cowed. Seraphina sniffs again and then looks through the opened porch door into the kitchen at Stella and Cynthia. Her face is implacable, her dark hair casting her eyes into shadow.

The girls scurry back through the kitchen and down the hall to the parlour. A few minutes later they hear a car leaving and Granny thumping down the hall and into the parlour. She bangs her cane three times before turning and leaving the room.

Cynthia whispers very quietly, but Stella hears