In the Shadow of Blackbirds(9)



“About a month ago he started insisting he wanted to get out of this house.” Mrs. Embers blotted a drop of tea before it could stain the tablecloth. “He’ll be training at Camp Kearny, just up north, but he says he doesn’t even want to come back home to visit if he gets a weekend pass. His father’s death hit him hard.”

“That’s very sad to hear,” said my aunt. “Hasn’t Julius ever helped Stephen through his grief? Perhaps if their father’s spirit showed up in a photograph—”

“No, that’s never going to happen.” Mrs. Embers smiled, but her brown eyes moistened. “My two boys couldn’t be any more different from each other. They’re like a volcanic eruption whenever they’re together.”

I couldn’t keep my legs still. I had to hunt down Stephen. “May I use your washroom, Mrs. Embers?”

“Certainly. Go past the bottom of the staircase. It’ll be the first door on your right before the study.”

“Take those silly goggles off your neck first,” said Aunt Eva, with a tug at my leather straps.

Mrs. Embers chuckled. “I was wondering about those goggles. It seems like you were always wearing some sort of new contraption whenever I saw you in the old days, Mary Shelley.”

“I bought them for her yesterday at the Liberty Loan drive.” Aunt Eva shook her head at me. “Some salesman with yellow mule teeth tried to convince her they’d let her see the future, and I think she half believes him.”

“I’m hoping they’ll be my good-luck charm.” I rose with as much grace as a person defending quasi-magical goggles could muster. “You know I’ve always admired aviatrixes.”

“But you don’t need to wear them all the time.” My aunt sighed. “Boys were giving her the oddest looks when she walked around Horton Plaza Park with those things over her eyes. You should have seen their faces.”

“I wasn’t trying to impress boys at a Liberty Loan drive.” I gripped the back of my chair. “I was desperate to see if there’s anything in my future besides a war. Thank you for the tea, Mrs. Embers.”

“You’re welcome, dear.”

As I made my way to the heart of the house, I overheard Aunt Eva explaining my obsession with aviatrixes, electricity, anatomy, and machinery, as though I were some sort of bizarre species—the rare Female scientificus, North American. “I don’t know if you remember, but my older sister, her mother, was a physician,” she said in a voice she probably assumed I couldn’t hear. “Mary Shelley seems to be channeling Amelia’s love of exploration and technology. That girl has always been passionate and headstrong about everything.”

Dark, knotty wood lined every wall, ceiling, and floor in the Emberses’ entry hall—an immense space that reminded me of the belly of a ship. A brass lantern hung overhead. I almost expected the floor to roll with the swell of a wave.

The soles of my shoes pattered across the floorboards to the rhythm of a beast of a grandfather clock that rose to the ceiling at the opposite end of the hall. I slowed my pace, placed my goggles over my eyes, and approached the clock with interest. The minute hand ticked its shadowy finger toward the twelve on a face painted to look like the moon, with eyes and a mouth and pockmark craters. The metallic gears spun and clicked deep inside, all those shiny pieces fitting into just the precise positions to make the contraption work. The pendulum swung back and forth, back and forth, hypnotizing with its gleaming brass.

“The boys who gave you odd looks don’t appreciate originality.”

I jumped backward a foot at the unexpected voice.

Through my lenses, I viewed a stunning boy who looked to be an older version of the Stephen I remembered, with hair a rich brown and deep, dark eyes that watched me with interest. He sat toward the bottom of the staircase, a book in hand, with one of his long legs stretched down to the floor. A black band of mourning encircled his white shirtsleeve. A gray silken tie hung down to his stomach and made him look so grown up, so distinguished, compared to my Portland childhood friend.

I caught my breath. “The Stephen Embers I knew wasn’t an eavesdropper.”

“Did a man really try to convince you those goggles would let you see the future?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“And what do you see?”

“Only a person who lurks in the backs of houses instead of coming to see his long-lost friend.”

He grinned and revealed a dimple I’d long forgotten.

I smiled and pulled the goggles down below my chin. “You’re not as gentlemanly as you used to be, Stephen. I remember you used to jump to your feet whenever a lady entered the room.”

“I’m far too stunned by the fact that you are a lady now.” He scanned me down to my toes. “You used to be so small and scrawny.”

“And you used to wear short pants that showed off your knobby knees and drooping socks. Plus you always had that scuffed-up old camera satchel hanging off your shoulder.”

He laughed. “I still have that satchel.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear not everything’s changed.” I stepped closer to him, my heart beating at twice its normal rate. My skin burned as if with fever. “Why are you hiding back here instead of coming out to see me?”

“Because …” His dimple faded. “I got the impression you came to see my brother instead of me.”

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