Transitions Page 13

  Coal bowed. “Until then.”

  She watched as he faded into the North Cave, the scientist by his side. Disappointment tinged her thoughts and, with heavy movements, she trod toward the bank, refusing to look at the linden tree. Water splashed and gurgled as it raced from one end of existence to the other. A brown-spotted leaf dodged the wheel and floated upon the surface. She trailed its journey as the current whisked it downstream. She had been foolish. Once more, her imagination and poor judgment carried her away, as if a mere leaf upon the water.

  Perhaps one day she would have a home of her own and a passel of children underfoot. That is, should a man not find her sordid origins distasteful. A dispirited sigh escaped her lips at the very thought just as her foot kicked against the metal box that Coal had dislodged from the wheel. Droplets of water glistened and rolled down the sides of the box, the source of so many of her morning’s troubles and yet already forgotten.

  “Wherever did you come from?” she mused aloud.

  Rain picked up the box and shook it. Items slid around inside and her smile widened. It was surprisingly light. She inspected the dark gray metal. Underneath, the name “Kane” was scratched into the surface. Her breath hitched. The heavier currents from the Blood Rains must have pushed it into the penstock. However did it end up in the pond? Had Timothy tossed this into the stream by the Mill? Or was this Skylar’s?

  Somehow the existence of the name instilled a sense of caution, and she tucked the box under her arm within her cloak. Before joining Coal at the Great Hall, she would hide the metal chest in her room. When the quarantine was lifted, she could deliver it intact to Skylar. She missed him. She missed all her friends. Though she was surrounded by people from dawn until dusk, she felt terribly lonesome.

  The path split to ramble along the apartments or wend its way through the forest. Rain took a left and hummed a tune as she meandered down the village path, trying to not think of the object in her care. But it was fruitless.

  Back in her apartment, she tiptoed through the house and shut her chamber door with the silence of a whispered prayer, though she was alone. It was silly, but curiosity over what could possibly be in the box amplified every sound, even her breath. Books in the lending library divulged tales of buried treasure and cursed artifacts. Her imagination was leaping at the many possibilities.

  Rain placed the peculiar box upon her vanity. She traced her finger along the rounded edges and studied the shiny, metallic latch. It did not appear locked. She nibbled on her fingernail. No, she would respect the privacy due Skylar.

  Resolute, she pivoted to move away just as the front entry door opened with a resounding bang and shut with a slam, one that rattled even her bedchamber door. And the metal box. She moved her attention back to her vanity. An idea emerged and she suppressed a giggle. A proper lady would honor the secrets it contained and abstain from meddlesome behavior. Rain, however, wondered that if she could steal kisses then, perhaps, she could steal secrets, too.

  Across the hallway, her brother charged into his room, only to dash out just as fast. Whatever was he grabbing? She did not have long to contemplate. The front door slammed shut once more and Rain pretended to startle, gasping aloud as her fingers splayed the air in mock fright and bumped the vanity. The box rattled toward the edge but remained aloft. Rain pressed her lips together in annoyance and gave the box a hearty nudge. She held her breath. The rush of Lake’s thumping scamper crescendoed by her window as the chest crashed to the floor and broke open.

  With a squeal, Rain knelt on the floor and righted the toppled box. Her head was positively dizzy with excitement. A handful of small playing cards, reflecting the strangest images, spilled onto the floor in a bizarre, transparent bag. Dribbles of water pooled on her chamber floor and beaded on the material. But no water appeared to have harmed the cards.

  Nimbly, she opened the bag, marveling at its flexibility, and pulled out the treasure. Her fingers rummaged through the contents one by one, until the end. Her hand stilled. Beneath the cards was a picture so lifelike, it was if she peered into a magic mirror. It was of a much younger Timothy and Lady Emily, who stared at her as if they knew her every secret. She half expected their eyes to blink or their smiles to falter. But they did not. How was this even possible?

  Spooked, she shoved all the items back into the box, shut the lid, and pushed it under her cot. Rain touched her hair and smoothed out her dress, then sprinted from her apartment toward the Great Hall, her heart pounding.

  Rain waited for Coal to explain the reason for his visit. But whenever he opened his mouth, he filled it with food or cautiously jested with Michael. And so she waited. And sipped on her tea. And watched the goings-on of the kitchen staff with half-hearted interest while trying to push away the unsettling image in the metal box. Normally she was not so patient and would have questioned him by this point, regardless of ladylike deportment or expectations. Only his aberrant behavior stopped her.

  The conversation eventually lulled and stretched from one awkward beat to another. Coal flicked his dark brown eyes her way. Rain smiled politely, trying not to think of how they were nearly black, they were so dark. How could one have hair like an angel and eyes like the devil? ’Twas divine cruelty, she decided. His gaze did not linger long, however. His attentions were fleeting, unless food was involved.

  Killie flew by with a large platter of strawberries and Coal leaned back in his chair as he chewed on the last gyngerbrede candy. He tracked the freshly plucked berries until they rested upon a block table across the kitchen from the inglenook, where she, Coal, and Michael presently sat.

  “Please excuse me,” he said and eased from his chair.

  Rain almost pitied Cook this moment. In the span of a few heartbeats, Coal had meandered across the room toward the platter. Cook stepped in front with hands on hips and clear warning in her eyes. The scene was almost comical, except Rain was still confused. Coal had been acting strangely since walking into the Great Hall. He would smile and tease, as usual. But a worried look would slip across his features when his humor ended all the while his attention darted around the room, as if he were hiding from someone or something.

  “Is he in trouble?” Michael asked her. The scientist appeared to shrink under Cook’s glare. He would not be the first. She was a fierce woman, though it was all bluster. She had a heart of gold beneath the gruff exterior.

  “The Son of Fire is synonymous with trouble, sir,” Rain replied. “I am surprised you have not learned this by now.”

  “Oh, I have. He’s explosive at times, too.”

  She bit her bottom lip when Coal leaned onto the block table as if there were not a single care in the world. His odd clothing—bordering on garish—clinked with his movement.

  “A dog on the hunt, you are, My Lord,” Cook said. “These are for mid-day meal.”

  “What are, exactly?” he casually asked.

  She tsked and wagged a finger in his face. “No appreciation for me work? I says no more sweets is what I say.”

  “You would deny a man his sweets?” Coal placed a hand over his heart as if mortally wounded.

  “Listen to you talk! Deny a man his sweets? Bah!”

  The kitchen maids whispered behind their aprons and hands, especially when Coal straightened to full height, followed by a gallant bow. “Madam Cook, I have never known desserts so fine as yours.” For a moment, Cook pressed her lips together, skeptical. “Your sweets melt on my tongue and dissolve into happiness. Each bite allows my heart to touch Heaven and my soul sighs in pleasure. It is truly a holy experience.”

  The Son of Fire lifted a corner of his mouth in a lazy smile and Cook flustered, waving a hand to cool her sudden flush. Rain could not blame her, as she often had similar responses herself. Appearing pleased with himself, Coal leaned down and kissed the older woman’s cheek while snaking an arm around her generous hips to the platter of strawberries. Rain gasped. The kitchen maids erupted into a flurry of stifled giggles, especially when Coo
k’s mouth fell open.

  “Coal Hansen!” She swatted him with a dish towel and he grinned, tossing a strawberry into his mouth. She grabbed a rolling pin off the block table and swung, but Coal ducked with a laugh, taking the object from her hands and placing it back onto the table. Puffing out her cheeks with hands on hips, fingers tapping in an angry rhythm, Cook loosed an irritated breath. “This is my kitchen, you ... you...”

  “Rascally goat!” Rain volunteered, and Coal shot her a look as if she had betrayed him.

  “Thank you, My Lady!” Cook pushed Coal away with shooing sounds. “Go back to your seat, you troublesome goat. You think you can graze as you please in my kitchen?” She threw a stubby finger in his face. “Well, you are wrong you are. Rules are to be adhered to. Do you understand, young man?”

  “Yes, Madam Cook.”

  “There will be no touching food, if you know what is good for you.”

  With a cherubic expression, he asked, “All food?”

  “Food not offered! Gah!”

  “Yes, Madam Cook.”

  Cook eyed Coal for several long, silent heartbeats. He raised a strawberry to his lips, blinking with innocence, a sweet smile on his face. She tried to remain firm, even attempting a scowl, but fell into laughter instead, swatting him again with her dishtowel. Cook pushed him until he stumbled back toward the nook table.

  “Troublesome lad,” Cook muttered under her breath. “No appreciation, says me.”

  Coal released his small bounty of stolen strawberries onto a trencher plate. “Really?” he asked Rain. “‘Rascally goat’?”

  “Are you not?”

  “I do believe I am a tad more genteel than your brothers.”

  “Only a tad, but still a rascally goat.”

  Coal blinked with mock astonishment. “Moi? I am scandalized, Mademoiselle.”

  Rain’s heart fluttered as she wrapped her fingers around her steaming mug of tea. To be scandalized by Coal Hansen. Even better, to scandalize him! But, he belonged to Fillion’s sister and the rest of the Outside world. And he was a tease. He meant nothing by the words that inspired her heated thoughts, she knew. Still, they affected her all the same.

  What would Oaklee do in moments such as these? She thought of her friend and smiled. She knew exactly what Oaklee would do. Lifting her chin, Rain angled her head away, as if she were above his charms and bravado, and took a sip of her tea. There, she had properly ignored his impish behavior.

  “She’s coming back,” Michael whispered.

  Coal flicked his gaze across the kitchen with a satisfied smile. “And with a large plate.”

  Protestations forgotten, the sturdy, ruddy-cheeked woman, covered in flour and smelling of savory herbs, plopped a plate of hot apple tarts in the center of their table, sprinkled with candied walnuts and drizzled in honey.

  “You are not eating enough, says me,” Cook huffed. “Look at you, lad. Skin and bones, you are. No wonder you sneak food right under me nose.” Rain hid her smile. Skin and bones he was most certainly not. “No one shall accuse Cook of not feeding you proper.”

  “I have missed your fare exceedingly.”

  “Seventeen years on St. Thomas Becket Day next week and look at you! Skin and bones.” For a moment she appeared to beam with pride and said, “I shall fatten you up, never you worry.”

  “I am lucky, indeed, to have your exceptional care,” Coal said, dimpled smile and all. “I pine for your creations.”

  With a loud harrumph, Cook wobbled back to her station while shouting orders at a nearby errand boy to fetch more wash water. The lad scurried from the room quicker than a blink, nearly tripping over the bucket.

  Coal popped an entire apple tart into his mouth and chewed with a look akin to rapture. Rain nibbled on hers and washed down the pastry with a sip of tea. Kitchen maids and errand boys dashed to and fro, all forgiven and all forgotten.

  He had insisted they dine at the kitchen nook by the cook hearth so he could charm Cook for food. But, really, it was to cover their conversation with all the riotous clamor. So far his plan had proved fruitful—on both accounts.

  “Oh wow,” Michael said after a bite.

  “You are welcome.” Coal tossed another tart into his mouth. “This is what real food tastes like. None of that salt-infused, unripened cardboard you Outsiders prefer.” The scientist smiled. “Though, I daresay Selah prepares a fine meal for the Nichols family.”

  “She should, considering who she serves.” Michael savored another bite with a happy grunt while nodding his head. “Is three servings of dessert before lunch normal? I always thought New Eden ate on a schedule and portioned out food.”

  “Yes, you speak true. I am clearly her favorite,” Coal said with another look of innocence. Rain choked back a laugh and sipped on her tea to conceal her mirth. “Ne gâchez pas l'illusion pour lui,” he said to her, his face perfectly serious.

  “Oui, Milord,” she replied with another laugh. “Il semble convaincu. Ton secret est bien gardé!”

  “You know my Cranium automatically translates.”

  “Drat.” Coal smiled in such a way that Rain gathered he already knew.

  “Where’s the restroom?” Michael asked.

  “The public lavatory is down the corridor and on the left.” With that, Michael pushed away from the small table and strode in the direction Coal indicated. A worried, distracted look shadowed Coal’s features once more. The Son of Fire focused on the wooden slats of the table for several heartbeats before meeting her waiting gaze. “Is my sister well?” he asked, voice low.

  “Yes, My Lord.” She knew not how else to respond. Did he know of the coming babe? She wished to share the happy news, but unmarried women did not speak of such things, most especially with unattached men. “She fares well.”

  He chewed on his bottom lip and leaned forward. “My Lady,” he whispered, “nearly a fortnight ago I sensed her distress. Did she fall ill? The lab refuses to answer my questions. My communications to the Techsmith Guild are blocked.”

  “Communications?” She drew her eyebrows together. He knew when Ember was troubled? “As far as I know, she has not fallen ill with influenza.”

  “I am much relieved.” He tapped his fingers on the table and looked around the kitchen, offering a polite smile to a maid who hastened by with a bowl of various greens. He leaned over the table once more and half-whispered, “The lab is in an uproar. The media caught wind of the Perkins boy and McCauley girl who died needlessly. The Surgeon General has imposed state law on New Eden Township in response.”

  “Which law, My Lord?” Rain marveled at how his manner of speech had changed since leaving their community. “We are in violation of the law?”

  “Yes, actually.”

  “Has Jeff confirmed these claims?” Rain tried her best to ignore the warmth creeping up her neck at the mention of the barrister’s name. The name of her biological father. She stared into her cup of tea and hoped she hid her mortification from Coal.

  “He has.” Coal studied her and she pretended to focus on the cook hearth. “Worry not, My Lady. We shall not be evicted. My apologies for startling you so.”

  “You are kind, but I am well.” She listened to the hearth crackle and watched the flames dance a spell before asking, “What law have we broken?”

  “Vaccination laws. According to the state of California, all those who reside within its borders are required to be inoculated against a handful of preventable diseases, influenza being one of them.”

  She played with her tablet-woven belt as she thought over his words. “Are you inoculated?”

  “Yes.” A flash of anger crossed his face with the admission. “Which is why I am permitted to come and go within New Eden.”

  The sudden change in demeanor was unnerving and Rain knew not how to reply. Was inoculation dangerous? Or uncomfortable? Before she could ask, Michael returned and slid into his seat with an affable smile.

  “Did I miss anything?” he asked.

  �
��I am confused, My Lord,” she said to the Son of Fire, ignoring Michael completely. “How then did influenza come to us?”

  “I guess I did.” Michael looked to Coal and a silent message passed between them. The Outsider turned in his chair to fully face her, his gaze darting around the kitchen. Warily, he whispered, “A scientist falsified his medical records. He no longer works for the lab.”

  “How shall he rectify the damages done, then?”

  “My Lady,” Coal said, eyes downcast. “He shall not face New Eden, though he may face a judge eventually, if Hanley presses charges.”

  Rain pushed away from the table and turned in her chair, folding her arms over her chest. The plate––smeared with honey and crumbs–-clanked against the table. “He is not to apologize to the families who lost their precious children because of his deceit?” Her lips trembled as she tried, in vain, to contain her fury. “He is a coward.”

  Coal touched the plate to silence the clatter, head bowed in respect, grief etched into each of his features. The kitchen maids quieted and peered their direction. He blinked back the emotions and lifted his head with a playful smile. She drew back in confusion. “You dare attempt to take the last apple tart?”

  Her pulse galloped as he stared at her unblinking, as if willing her play along. “Coal Hansen,” she began hesitantly. “Have you not eaten enough apple tarts already?” Rain forced a smile and her stomach sickened.

  “No, I shall never eat enough, especially Cook’s.” He pushed the plate toward her and offered the remaining tart. “I suppose I shall share, My Lady. If I must. Cook’s fine pastries shall be but a happy memory.”

  “You are such a rascal, My Lord.”

  He flashed his angelic grin, the very one that had all the matriarchs eating out of his hand. The kitchen resumed its busyness and the clank of pots and boisterous voices hid their conversation once more.

  Coal’s gaze grew sorrowful as he searched her eyes. “The Outside world does not demand an honor price the same way as New Eden.” His voice was barely above a whisper, but cracked with the same sense of injustice she expressed.