Memory Girl (11 page)

Her words squirm like crawlies in my gut. I want to argue that I'll only restore Milly's memories, not bring back the dead. Or does memdenity come with more than knowledge? Soul? It doesn't seem possible, but centuries ago no one believed immortality was possible either.

Rosemarie invites me into a spacious room with bone-white walls, two dressers side by side, plush brown chairs, a wardrobe closet, and retro-century cooking utensils fixed on the walls. Another wall has a gold-framed painting of a bride and a groom on a gilded platform beneath a shining white cross. The man is Arthur, looking exactly as he did today, and the woman, full-figured with olive skin and almond-shaped black eyes, must be Milly.

“Milly's wedding was beauteous.” Rosemarie sighs as she gestures to the portrait. “Arthur made her so happy—he's a wonderful man, and you will find it easy to love him. I know he's thrilled you have joined our Family.”

I'm less than thrilled. But how will I feel about this after the memdenity? Having layers of new memories—moments of joy, sadness, loss, and love—will change how I view myself and everyone around me.

Does that mean I'll love Arthur as a wife? When he stared at me, it was as if he was seeing through coverings and memories to the curvy body of the woman he loved.

My husband.
The marriage contract will legally bind me to Arthur. My Instructors didn't explain what the contract included, but I'm not
that
innocent. I've taken my cycle pills since age twelve and, like all girls, when I reach age sixteen, I'll have the sterilization procedure. By then I'll have all three memdenity insertions and share nights with Arthur. I can't imagine it—and don't want to.

To shift my thoughts, I point to a jewelry box on a dresser. “Was this Milly's?”

“It's yours,” she says with that questioning lift of her dark brow, as if she's surprised I'm asking permission.

I lift the curved lid to find pools of silver and gold necklaces, a ring with a stone so red I wonder if it's a ruby, and glittery bracelets with dangling charms. There's a tiny sand-shell too, which makes me think of the sea—and of Petal. I'd give anything to be with her now, playing in the Lavender Pool and cradling her sweet body to my heart.

“Take whatever you want.” Rosemarie's voice jerks me away from my cave and back to this bedroom. “The ruby ring will be too big, but you can wear a bracelet or necklace.”

I shake my head. “They belong to Milly.”

“But you're Milly.” She smiles, then walks back to the door. “I can't wait for you to see how I've fancied our room.”

“I'm coming,” I say with a resigned shrug.

When I shut the jewelry box, my red scarf catches on an edge of the lid. As I untangle it, the jewelry box tips over and starts to fall. I grab quickly to right the box, but a gold necklace slips out from underneath the box and lands on the floor.

I pick up the necklace, admiring the four-point golden star dangling from a chain of fine gold. At the center, grooves spread out to repeat the four-star pattern, reminding me of the lines inside a shell
. A shell star
, I think as I slip it into my tunic pocket, then hurry to catch up with Rosemarie.

The top floor has low peaked ceilings, narrow halls, and so many windows, as if night is watching our every move. Rosmarie leads me past a combined kitchen-dining area and doors that she explains lead to closets, a pantry, and privacy rooms. Moving on, she opens a door and announces, “This is our room.”

It's decorated in greens, yellows, and browns, with spacious windows, as if an outside garden has been invited inside. There's a desk, dressers, a tall mirror, and two comfortable-looking beds with bright pillows and handcrafted quilts.

Rosemarie gestures to the quilt on the bed she's prepared for me. “This is the first quilt Milly and I crafted together. We stayed up long nights cutting pieces. She stitched them so perfectly that Arthur thought we'd used a machine. He can be so serious, sometimes, and easy to tease,” she adds with a chuckle.

“Lorelei would love to see this.” I run my finger over the quilt's precise stitches. “She is more skilled at sewing than I'll ever be.”

“You'll be surprised how well you can sew.” Rosemarie tilts her head at me. “Who's Lorelei?”

“My born-mate. Only her name isn't Lorelei anymore. She's Flavia now.”

“Oh, the Ying Family's youth. We considered her too.” Rosemarie touches her chin thoughtfully. “But Ryan—Leader Cross—wanted you.”

“He did?” I can't imagine anyone wanting me over Lorelei (impossible to think of her as Flavia). Lorelei even resembles Milly—if you add ten years and shorter hair. Of course, Lorelei had already been Chosen.

There's a tap on the door, and Rosemarie jumps up to answer with a big grin on her face. “He's here to see you,” she says.

“Who?”

“Jarod.” Her grin widens at the stocky guy with short black hair and wide lips against olive skin.

“Jarod and you have something in common,” Rosemarie tells me with a pleased tone. “I thought you'd like to meet a Cross relative who understands what you're going through.”

“That would be me,” Jarod says, winking. “It's been fifty years since I came here as a youth.”

“You were a youth?” I ask in surprise.

“You didn't think you were the only Cross newbie? My youth name was Adam.”

He pulls up a chair and launches into his story of Instructors, pranks on his born-mates, and being so nervous at his Celebraze that he nearly wet his pants.

I lean forward on the edge of the quilt so I don't miss a word. Unlike me, Jarod was joyous to be Chosen by the Cross Family, although he admits to sadness at leaving his best mates and Instructors. But he sees them at Sunday Fair when Families gather for communal bartering. I'm loving
his story until he mentions memdenity.

“Weren't you afraid?” I grip my hands together.

“Who wouldn't be? Only it didn't hurt, and afterward I knew more than I ever imagined. When I finished all three mems, I remembered life before ShareHaven, when I lived with family in Florida. I was in my senior year of college when the mind-plague hit. So many were lost—including my parents. I came to this island to escape sad memories and help find a cure as a lab assistant working for the scientists. We were close to a cure—until the Attack. Afterward I helped construct the Fence to keep out desperate people, beasts, and Nocturnes. When we settled into Families, I had no relations of my own, so I joined the Cross Family.”

“You can do that?” I ask.

“I did.” He grins mischievously. “Take a few hundred years and lots of things can happen. I could tell you some stories ….”

Rosemarie, who sits in a nearby chair, clears her throat. “Jarod, keep to the topic,” she says with reproach.

“Fine, fine.” He winks at me. “So I'm a totally well-adjusted former youth, and you will be too. If you get bored, join a sports team or hobby club. In my free hours, I kick smack-ball. Two of my born-mates play too. And there are some sweet girls I see at every Sunday Fair. Never a dull day in forever-land.”

I laugh, and something inside me lightens. He's doing a job he enjoys and kept youth friendships—confirming that not all memories fade.

When he leaves, I wrap my arms around Rosemarie. “Thank you so much for inviting him.”

“I want you to be happy here.”

“I am,” I say, and for the first time I mean it.

Rosemarie has given me so much, yet there's nothing I can give to her—except the sister she misses. So I ask her to tell me about Milly.

I curl up on the quilt with a pillow and listen as she tells me sweet, funny, and sad stories of Milly. They were born in the retro-century and lived in a grand city by the Pacific Ocean called San Francisco. Her words paint images of cars, computers, school, and a magical way of communication called the Internet.

There was a brother too: Gregory.

“After he died from the mind-plague, our parents came to this island.” A shadow crosses her face. “Things were wondrous for a while until the Attack, when my parents were killed. I was already planning my wedding to Jed, and Milly fell in love with Arthur. But you'll know this soon—I don't want to bore you.”

“It's not boring. Milly is more real when you talk about her.”

“I was closer to her than anyone—including Jed.”

At the mention of her husband's name, I ask something I've been wondering. “Where is your husband? I've met your three sons, but not him. Won't he mind my sharing your room?”

“No.” Her lips press tight. “He died.”

I don't know what to say so I just nod.

She gazes at a framed retro-photo on a dresser of a smiling black-haired man with heavy brows and crooked teeth. “I thought we'd be together forever.”

I wonder which of The Three Dangers ended their “forever.” Wanting to comfort her but not knowing the right words, I repeat a phrase the Instructors say: “Accidents are
tragic.”

“It wasn't an accident,” she says bluntly.

I blink at her, confused. “But then how … how did he die?”

Her lips press tighter. “My husband was murdered.”

I've been warned about accidental deaths for as long as I can remember but aside from The Attack I've never heard of an intentional death.

Murder.

How could that happen in ShareHaven? Violence is forbidden. Even a small offense like hitting is cause for Uniforms to step in with severe punishments. Clark was only age ten when he smacked Homer in the head with a stick. Homer wasn't hurt, but within an hour, the Uniforms arrived. They locked Clark away for a week.

Clark never lost his temper again.

Poor Rosemarie. She's suffered a terriful loss, yet she smiles as if she's eternally happy. I study her in a new way, creating a memory of my own.

Rosemarie offers me a nightshirt that is comfortably baggy, made of silky fabric. I crawl into my bed, which is made of softer cushions than I'm used to, but my mind won't relax. I glance over at Rosemarie as she reaches out to turn back her blankets. Only instead of climbing into bed, she kneels on the floor, and presses her palms together, her head bowed.

What's she doing
? I wonder, breathing evenly so she won't know I'm awake. I can't see her face, but I understand some of her words.

“… am grateful … second chance to … right with Milly and forgive ….” Her voice falls to silence as she makes a gesture over her heart and climbs into bed. Something about her manner seems so private that I'm ashamed to eavesdrop.

When I close my eyes this time, I fall asleep almost before my head hits the soft downy pillow, and I dream ….

I'm at the sea, wading in the surf and flinging a stick in the waves. Petal clings on my shoulder. She tickles my neck, and when the stick doesn't return after I throw it, she dives into the foaming waves. She's so very tiny, smaller than the stick she's seeking, but she's done this many times before, so I don't worry.

The clouds darken, waves toss angrily, and Petal doesn't come up for air. She can swim like a fish, but she still needs air to breathe. I call her name over and over, running into the waves. The sea has become a wild monster, immense and black-hearted.

A glassy shape rises from the waves like a life-size monster. I try to run, but a tube-like arm snakes out, winding around my wrist. I can't breathe, sinking beneath the water, drowning. I'm going to break a rule—dying by one of the Three Dangers.

But the glassy shape peers at me with blue eyes, and the tube-arm becomes a human hand. When he lifts his other hand, he's holding tiny Petal out to me. She tinkles her bell laugh, then scurries up my arm.

“You came back,” I say.

“To see you.” Nate's smile goes straight to my heart. Stubble bristles around his jaw, and his cheeks are hollowed as if he doesn't eat enough. Yet he's all muscle too, and I can feel his strength through his gentle hand.

His shape shifts. Tubes sharpen into fins, scales cover his skin, and the smile glints with pointy-knife teeth. A human vampfish. I smell blood. The cut on my arm has burst open, bleeding swirls in seawater. And the creature that once was human aims fish fangs at me ….

I jerk up in bed. A dream … that's all. Yet I'm startled by the quietness of the room. My first night away from the noisy whispers of my born-mates. I look over to the outline of Rosemarie underneath blankets. She snores softly, so deep in sleep not even my bad dreams wake her.

Dawn light creeps through the window, and I long to sneak out to my cave. Will Petal look for me today? She'll wait and wait, but I'll never come. Nate will comfort her, and she'll forget me. But no matter how many memories are crammed into my head, I'll never forget her.

There's no going back to sleep, so I change into a tunic. I'd rather wear comfy denim pantons, but I want to make a good impression on my Family.