The Shadow Girl of Birch Grove (39 page)

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Authors: Marta Acosta

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situations.”

He glanced at his thin gold watch. “I must go. Is my offer amenable to

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The Shadow Girl of Birch Grove – Marta Acosta

you?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Will you walk out with me, Jane?”

Mr. Ducharme offered his arm to me and we went outside. He paused in

the shade of a pine. “I can trust in your silence?”

“There’s no reason for me to expose The Family. I might even feel sorry

for them if they showed any sympathy for others.”

“That is very generous of you.”

“You’re laughing at me, Mr. Ducharme.”

“I must, because you’re such a solemn young woman. Don’t stay so

serious or you’ll turn into someone like Hyacinth.”

“I’ll try to avoid that, sir.”

“I’ll make the necessary arrangements for our agreement. Birch Grove’s

Companion program here has been suspended until further review.”

“I’m glad.”

“Good-bye, Jane.” He took my hand in his strong hands. “I believe that we

shall meet again someday under happier circumstances. Perhaps then you’ll tell

me the secrets behind those brown eyes.”

“Only if you tell me yours.”

He chuckled and said, “You are already taking my advice. I have

something for you.” He opened the trunk of his car and took out a sapling. “This

was found in the passageway near the in the school. I believe it’s yours.”

“Thank you,” I said taking it and looking in wonderment at the fragile new

roots and leaves on the branch.

Then he got in the Mercedes and drove away.

I looked down the hillside to the school. The charred roof of the rosecolored main building looked like scabs.

I didn’t want to go back into the Monroes’ house. Carrying the sapling

carefully in my hand, I hobbled slowly around the house to the path that led to my

cottage.

When I reached the amphitheatre, I sat on a bench to rest my ankle. The

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The Shadow Girl of Birch Grove – Marta Acosta

marble was smooth and cool. What had Claire Mason and BB hoped and

dreamed for when they’d been initiated here? What we all dream about: love and

security.

I looked above me into the branches and saw a darker shadow there. I

didn’t know if it the Lady of the Wood, or BB, or a trick of the light, but I wasn’t

afraid this time. The darkness expanded, growing fainter, and then was gone.

Jack found me at the amphitheatre. He sat beside me and said, “You left

without telling me.”

“I needed to come here.”

Wind rustled the autumn leaves, and we sat so quietly that a trio of deer

came out of the trees toward us. They looked at us before ambling off.

Jack said, “I’m glad you decided not to transform into a doe and leap away

with your friends.”

“I thought about it, but something is keeping me here.”

Will you help me get to the cottage?”

“Halfling,” he said with a broad smile, “did you actually ask for help?”

“It’s okay to ask friends for sympathy and comfort.”

“May I carry you?”

“No, you can support me.” I picked up the branch and leaned against him to

stand.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“It’s the branch that helped me last night. We can plant it.”

Jack was patient as I limped slowly down the hill. Once we reached the

steps to the cottage, he ran ahead and opened the door, then returned to swoop me

up and carry me inside.

When he put me on the sofa, I looked around the room and noticed small

changes. “Someone’s been here. Things are moved.”

“The Family’s security team probably came through last night. What now,

halfling?” he said as he sat beside me and took my hand.

“I don’t know. I thought about transferring to another school, but there are

things keeping me here.”

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The Shadow Girl of Birch Grove – Marta Acosta

“Such as?”

“Such as Mary Violet’s poetry and the Free Pop and
The
Birch Grove

Weekly
.”

“Those are awesome reasons to stay. Anything else?”

“Yes, I love the grove and I have friends here and there’s this guy… He’s

incredibly aggravating. He teases me and tells me to leave. But he brings me

pizza and makes me laugh. He’s amazingly sexy and talented. He’s funny, too,

and considerate. I suspect that he’s very smart.”

“I’ll never be able to compete with such a paragon. Is that one of your SAT

words?”

I nodded. “Don’t try to compete. Be yourself. The problem is that he’s

been so inconsistent that I’m not sure he really cares for me.”

Jack put his arm around me, and I inhaled his scent of pine and warm earth.

He said, “I think he was conflicted because he thought you loved someone else

and he was trying to get you to safety, even though he wanted you to stay.”

“Does he want me to stay now?”

“Yes, because he’s in love with you. He’s never met a prettier, braver,

smarter halfling, and all he wants, Jane, is to be with you.”

I pulled Jack to me and kissed him.

When our lips parted he said, “You know this is going to be complicated.”

“Compared to what I’ve been through, it will be a cake walk.”

Jack grinned and said, “My beautiful elfkin made a joke!”

Then he kissed me again and again, his mouth tasting like the stream I’d

tasted in the Other World, his arms as strong as the arms that had carried me up

on the night of the storm, and his eyes the color of spring. And when he said,

“Jane, stay with me,” I said, “Always.”

I slipped my hand under his shirt, feeling his warm body, and he pulled off

his t-shirt. I kissed his bare shoulders, stroked his chest, and then he unzipped the

pink warm-up jacket.

His body kept me warm even though I trembled at his touch. He said,

“Does your ankle hurt?”

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The Shadow Girl of Birch Grove – Marta Acosta

“Not much. Be careful.”

“I’ll only do what you want. Tell me what you want.”

“I want you.”

He hesitated and then said, “We don’t have to rush. I can wait.”

“I’ve already died twice, Jack. I may not come back next time. I’m not

going to wait to live anymore.”

He took me to the bedroom and slowly undressed me, nuzzling, kissing,

and stroking me until I forgot the pain in my ankle, I forgot everything but him.

His naked body seemed miraculous to me and when I touched him, he gasped and

said, “Jane, Jane.”

Because we were so new to each other and he was trying not to hurt my

ankle, we fumbled, our damp bodies sliding and slipping, but Jack laughed and I

laughed, too, because it was better not to be too serious.

And when we found our rhythm and the sensation built up in me, I clutched

his shoulders and it was better than I could have imagined, because he was

looking right at me, seeing
me
, and I cried out in pleasure and happiness.

IN THE MIDDLE
of the night, when the birches danced in an autumn wind and

sang their song, Jack and I built a fire and wrapped ourselves in the comforter.

His calloused fingers went to my scar and it throbbed warmly, as if it

craved his touch. He asked, “It’s shaped like a leaf. What’s this from?”

“My stepfather shot me, and I climbed into a tree,” I said. “No, what really

happened is that the tree lifted me up and saved me. That was the first time I

died. I always thought the scar was the mark of the bullet, but now I realize it’s

the mark of the tree that saved me.”

“So I was right, and you are magic.”

“Not me. The Lady of the Wood.” I looked up at my painting and listened

to the branches brushing against the cottage. “She watches over me.”

“No, I think it’s
you
, Jane.” His fingers traced my tattoo. “What does this

H mean?”

I told him about Hosea and how I had loved him.

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“He sounds like someone who wanted you to be happy. H is also for happy

and for hope, and…” He thought for a moment and said, “And for honey, which is

both an endearment and nice with peanut butter in a sandwich.”

“It’s for hilarious, which you think you are.” I ran my hand along his

muscular leg. I thought he was so beautiful.

“H is for Halfling, and I love Halfling.” Then he said, “I have something to

say to you,” and then he spoke very slowly and carefully:

‘Karissima, noli tardare

studeamus nos nunc amare

sine te non potero vivere

iam decet amorem perficere.”

I translated the poem in my head as he spoke: “My dearest, do not hesitate!

Let us now study the art of love. Without you I cannot live. Now is the time to

perfect our love!”

“But I want to say it in English because I can’t run to Catalina for old Latin

poems every time I want to tell you something,” he said. “I love you, Halfling.”

“I love you, too, Jack.”

He stayed with me during the week that Birch Grove was closed. He

brought down his guitars, bikes, grubby shorts, and several t-shirts, including an

extra-small Dog Waffle Research Laboratories tee for me.

He took care of me, making tea and toast in the morning and bringing pizza

at night. He washed the dishes and played songs for me. He hung the birch

painting above the fireplace and planted the sapling outside my bedroom window.

And when Jack touched me, I felt every nerve come alive, as it had on the

day that we’d met when he’d placed his hand on my shoulder.

Mary Violet and Constance visited, bringing Mrs. Heyer’s cupcakes,

movies, and flowers.

Mary Violet waited until Lucky had gone to band practice to say, “Hattie’s

so busy with Lucky that we haven’t seen her in years.”

“She stopped by yesterday,” Constance said and winked an almond eye at

me.

“Only for a nanosecond.”

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The Shadow Girl of Birch Grove – Marta Acosta

Constance said, “It was at least four hours.”

MV looked at Jack’s things scattered around the room and sighed.

“Everyone’s got lovers, but me. Even Constance is seeing Joe, who’s our year at

Evergreen. When we were in seventh grade, Joe laughed out loud when I got

beaned in the head with a softball at the Fourth of July picnic, so I don’t approve

of him at all. My self-esteem is in shambles.”

“She’ll recover,” Constance said to me. “Three guys already asked her to

the Winter Ball.”

“They don’t count. I’ve known them since we were all embryos and our

mothers were in the same birthing classes. I think I’ll dress my sister Agnes in a

tux and take her as my date.”

“You wouldn’t!” Constance and I said together and then we all started

laughing.

AFTER A FEW
days, when I could walk short distances, Jack and I would go

into in the grove at night. We’d stop at the amphitheatre and he’d wrap his arms

around me, keeping me warm, as we talked.

I began remembering more things about my life before: my mother pushing

me on swings at the park, a gray cat we’d had, blowing bubbles on a summer

day…

The pieces of me began coming together. Sometimes I could even imagine

the woman I would become: quiet, thorough Jane Williams, who loved solving

problems in a laboratory and was happiest when she came home every evening to

her family.

When the week ended, I said, “Jack, you have to move out of here and go

back home.”

“There’s too much drama there. Hattie and my mother are always going at

each other. Besides I want to be with you.”

“Classes start on Monday, and I won’t be able to study if you’re here all the

time,” I said. “Don’t forget the moral turpitude requirements. Mary Violet is

already writing poems about my lost innocence.”

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The Shadow Girl of Birch Grove – Marta Acosta

He grinned and said, “We wouldn’t want a scandal. Okay, but I demand

visiting privileges.”

“Constantly and maybe you could start looking into colleges.”

“Are you tired of me already?”

“Colleges with a good music program and a great chemistry department and

terrific pizza. A college set in the woods,” I said. “I want to live where there are

trees. I want to live with you.” I fiddled with the silver leaf necklace that Jack

had made. “JFM. What’s your middle name?”

“Forrest,” he said. “It’s my birth family’s name. Jacob Forrest Monroe.”

IN SCIENCE AND MATH,
one is always trying to find an elegant solution: an

answer that is at once simple and true. Jack is that to me, my elegant solution,

and I stepped out of the shadows forever.

I still dream about the nights that I died. Sometimes I have nightmares

about being lost in the hidden passages, unable to find a way out. The escape has

become the prison.

More often, though, I dream that I am in the grove. The wind is blowing

and the birches have lifted their roots from the soil and are doing a lumbering, yet

graceful dance. They’re singing their whispery song in a language that predates

time.

I’m very young and playing Ring-around-the-Rosey with other small girls.

We’re singing, “Ashes, ashes, all fall down.”

Somehow I know that my playmates are Claire Mason and BB. There are

others girls here, too, and many wear Companion rings, the stones glinting like

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