The House in the Cerulean Sea(120)

She shot out toward the garden.

He sighed. “Of course.”

He followed her.

The flowers were in bloom, and they seemed brighter than he remembered. He walked along the path until he heard muttering in a strange tongue. He rounded a hedge to see a little bearded gnome digging in the dirt.

He stopped.

“Hello,” he said quietly.

Her shoulders stiffened before she continued digging, Calliope sitting at her side.

He took another step toward her. “New tools working out well, then?”

She didn’t respond, but the dirt was flying out around her.

“Helen told me she was impressed with your garden. Said it was one of the best she’s ever seen.”

“Yes, well,” Talia said irritably, “I am a gnome. I’m supposed to be good at it.”

He chuckled. “Of course you are.”

“Why are you here?”

He hesitated, but only briefly. “Because this is where I belong. And I never should have left to begin with. I only did so in order to make sure you would be safe. All of you. And now…”

She sighed as she set her spade down before turning to look at him.

She was crying.

Linus didn’t hesitate as he scooped her up in his arms.

She buried her face in his neck, beard tickling his throat. “I am going to bury you right here,” she sobbed. “I’m digging your grave, just so you know.”

“I know,” he said, rubbing a hand over her back. “I would expect nothing less.”

“No one would ever be able to find you! And even if they did, it would be too late and you’d be only bones!”

“Perhaps we can hold off on that, for at least a little while. I have something important to say to all of you.”

She sniffled. “Perhaps. But if I don’t like what I hear, we come right back and you will climb inside the hole without arguing.”

He laughed, wild and bright. “Deal.”



* * *



She ran ahead, Calliope chasing after her. Linus took a moment to breathe in the scents of the garden around him. He listened to the waves. If he had any doubts before this moment, they were gone now. He just hoped the others would feel the same.

It was time.

He left the garden, rounding the side of the house. He stopped when he saw what waited for him.

They had gathered in the front of the house. Zoe looked exasperated at the sight of him, shaking her head fondly. Phee was glaring at him. He hoped she wouldn’t turn him into a tree. Or, if she did, at least that it wouldn’t be an apple tree. He didn’t like the idea of them eating him when he blossomed.

Chauncey was fidgeting nervously, as if he wanted to hurry toward Linus, but knew his loyalties lay with those around him. Sal stood with his arms across his chest. Theodore was sitting on his shoulder, head cocked.

Talia was wiping her eyes and muttering in Gnomish. Linus thought he heard her say that she’d have to widen his grave seeing as how he was still rotund.

And Lucy, of course. Lucy, who stood in front of them all, a strange expression on his face. Linus wondered if he was about to be hugged, or if his blood was going to start to boil, causing his organs to cook within him. It could really go either way.

Arthur stood behind them, and though his face was blank and his hands were clasped behind his back, Linus knew he was wary, he could see it in the stiff set of his shoulders. The fact that Linus had played a part in this made him feel ill. Arthur should never be so unsure. Not about this.

Linus kept his distance, though Calliope seemed to have no such problem. She was meowing quite loudly as she rubbed against Sal’s legs, as talkative as she’d been since they’d left the island.

How could he have been so foolish? How could he have ever thought he could leave this place? It was color, bright and warm, and his heart felt like it was finally beating again. He hadn’t realized he’d left it behind. He should have known. He should have realized.

“Hello,” he said quietly. “It’s nice to see you all again.”

They didn’t speak, though Chauncey twitched, eyes bouncing excitedly.

Linus cleared his throat. “I don’t expect you to understand. I don’t know that I do. I’ve made mistakes, some bigger than others. But I…” He took a deep breath. “I heard something once. Something important, though I don’t think I knew just how important it actually was. A very wise person stood up in front of others, and though he was very nervous, he said the most profoundly beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.” Linus tried to smile, and it cracked right down the middle. He said, “I am but paper. Brittle and thin. I am held up to the sun, and it shines right through me. I get written on, and I can never be used again. These scratches are a history. They’re a story. They tell things for others to read, but they only see the words, and not what the words are written upon. I am but paper, and though there are many like me, none are exactly the same. I am parched parchment. I have lines. I have holes. Get me wet, and I melt. Light me on fire, and I burn. Take me in hardened hands, and I crumple. I tear. I am but paper. Brittle and thin.”

Sal’s eyes widened.

“It stuck with me,” Linus continued. “Because of how important it is. How important all of you are.” His voice broke, and he shook his head. “There is nothing to fear from the Department in Charge of Magical Youth. This place is your home, and your home it shall remain. You can stay here, as long as you wish. And if I have my way, others like you will know the same peace.”