Outrun the Moon(97)

45



PEOPLE STARE AS WE WHEEL BY WITH THE strange contraption, though it’s no stranger than the stuffed bird, the cello, and the painting of a mermaid we pass. When we reach our campsite, I gasp at the sight of a crowd gathered around a black horse as big as a barge. It’s Winter!

Ah-Suk plants a foot on the horse’s stirrup, and grasps the saddle as if to mount, but Tom cries, “Ba!”

The old man’s face splits in astonishment, and all eyes converge on us.

“Mercy!” Francesca is running toward me. Her color is high, and when she embraces me, I can feel her trembling. “Thank God, you’re okay.”

“What happened to Marcus?”

I don’t hear the answer for, at that moment, Elodie, Harry, Katie, Minnie Mae and Georgina fly at me as well. Words wing about like bees in the marigolds.

“I’m so sorry about your father!”

“No need, he is fine. He is right there.”

“Well, grasshoppers!”

“Aren’t you supposed to be on a train?”

“She’s parched. Someone pour her water!”

“If you had told me he was coming, I would’ve put on my blue silk.” Elodie fluffs her hair, batting her eyes toward Tom.

Ah-Suk and Tom are locked in an embrace, and the old man’s eyes are squeezed shut. Though no words are spoken, many things are said.

Ba smiles at me, an expression he wears so rarely that I can only stare back in wonder. And here at the edge of the park between ruin and order, lives begin to knit back together, one heartbeat at a time.

Harry pulls at the ends of her too-long army sleeves. “We’re glad you’re okay.”

Francesca presses a glass of water to me, and after a long draw, I give them an abbreviated account of what happened.

“Your turn now,” I tell Francesca. “Where is the noble lieutenant?”

Her mouth becomes a perfectly mischievous crescent. “He tried to lead Winter back to his quarters, but that sweet horse bolted and took us straight back to Dr. Gunn.”

Good ol’ Winter, you know who’s boss.

“Marcus followed, but that’s when it hit me: If a horse can carve his own path, so can I. I told him that I changed my mind. And then Dr. Gunn told Marcus if he didn’t leave me alone, he’d have him arrested for looting his animal.”

Headmistress Crouch approaches our camp from the lake, accompanied by a woman and a pug with a sooty face. The newcomer stands the same height as me, with gray hair just grazing her chin. A grosgrain ribbon and turkey feather give her cowboy hat a feminine touch, and a pair of leather gloves dangles from the belt of her trousers. She marches right up to us and pumps my hand, her green eyes milky but strangely focused.

“Hello, Mercy. I’m Mrs. Lowry. Katie tells me you’re the leader of this enterprise. It is an honor to meet you.”





46



Three days later.


A CROWD GATHERS BESIDE OUR RELOCATED Kitchen as Tom pulls up the stakes holding down the Floating Island. Using the heat from Tom’s newly constructed ovens, the balloon is puffed up again like a proud mother owl.

Elodie, Georgina, Francesca, Katie, and Harry stand in a clump, army shirts and trousers tailored to fit using new supplies brought by the army. All the girls decided to stay camping in the park instead of moving out of the city.

Tom has promised to give everyone a ride, and I get the honor of being first.

Minnie Mae should be safe with her parents now. It took Mrs. Lowry all of fifteen minutes to find appropriate chaperones for the girls’ trip to South Carolina—an older couple with daughters of their own. Before Minnie Mae left, I gave her Jack’s Indian head penny.

May it help her find her way.

The last stake is pulled. This time, the basket is tethered to a strong oak, so there will be no repeat of the flight of terror. Elodie watches admiringly as Tom neatly swings over the basket. I can’t fault her. Tom is rather hard to resist.

Katie claps her hands, and Harry smiles. She’s been doing a lot of that lately. Francesca shades her eyes as we float higher.

Alone at last.

Tom lowers the drag and checks the lines. We rise in our bamboo elevator with its wings of silk. In Tom’s capable hands and without a single wayward breeze, my stomach stays put. I sight our newly procured café tables, where Ah-Suk and Ba instruct Headmistress Crouch and Mrs. Lowry on the four winds of mah-jongg.

Ah-Suk and Headmistress Crouch are too absorbed in the game—or each other—to notice us floating overhead, but Ba glances up and our eyes meet. I show him the jar in my hands, filled with the paper I burned for Ma and Jack. He nods.

“I can see why you like walking on the clouds. You could keep track of everyone up here.” I give Tom my big eyes. “Maybe even me.”

Tom rakes a hand through his now-overgrown thicket of hair. “Why do you think I built it?”

I slip my fingers through his calloused ones. As oven maker, tent fortifier, furniture mover, and all-around handyman, Tom’s hands have been busy these past few days.

Tents spread out at random below us. It looks as if someone in heaven upturned a basket of white lilies upon the park. People crook back their heads to watch us, some waving, some pointing, some even cheering.

If Francesca hadn’t reminded me that I matter, I would be under a pile of bricks right now, instead of snuggled up with Tom. “Sometimes the only way to move forward is to be pushed by someone who cares,” I say.