Page 48 of The Light Between Worlds

Tom walks over and I slide my hand into his. My heart is a wild thing in my chest, anxious and crying out for home, but I bid it to be still just a moment longer.

“Thank you, Tom, for telling me about your brothers. For being here with me.”

He looks at the ground and though there’s not enough light to see him flush, I know he’s red to the tips of his ears.

“You’d better go,” I say. “It’s getting awfully late.”

Tom still has hold of one of my hands and he runs his thumb across the back of it. “Will I see you Saturday?”

One last time, I lie to Tom Harper. “Of course. I’ll see you then.”

He stands with his head bowed, then straightens. “You’re right. I should get back. Are you going in?”

“Not yet.”

“Alright. Good night, Ev.”

“Good night, Tom.”

I watch him disappear down the lane and try not to fidget. As soon as he’s lost from sight, I bolt, hurrying across the field and past Hobb’s cottage.

The back gate squeals softly as I slide through it and into the tame and sleeping forest. I travel the dim path to the birch ring and step out into its center, into the icy rain. There, I pull my wool sweater off and stand in my thin shirt, letting cold water wash overmy skin. I kick off my shoes and peel away my wet socks so that slush oozes between my toes.

Grey sand, grey sea, grey sky.It’s time for me to stand on my own.

“Cervus the Guardian, who watches over the Great Wood, call me out of this world. Honor your word. Take me back to where I belong. I swear to you, this heart beating in my chest is a Woodlands heart, and a Woodlands heart always finds its way home.”

I wait in the rain until my fingers and toes are numb and the cold has leached like lead into my limbs. Drops trickle down my face, and I can’t tell which have fallen from the sky and which are tears. I want to lie down and sleep, to give in to the quiet heaviness the cold has set in my bones, but I’ve come too far to surrender now. I’m a girl unmoored, cut free from the very last of the ties that bound me.

“Very well,” I say to the dark. “If you won’t call, I’ll walk until I find the way.”

I step forward, into the night, trusting my feet to return me home.

Philippa

February 1950

34

WHEN A FIST HAMMERING ON MY DOOR KNOCKS ME OUTof sleep and into the cold dark of a New England night, I have a moment of perfect clarity. I know what this is about. I’m on the brink of a disaster that’s been six years in the making.

Guilt lodges in my stomach, solid and unshakable and familiar as a friend. Whatever’s coming, it’s my fault.

The slate floors of the Women’s Building are frigid in winter so I push my feet into thick slippers and pull on a dressing gown. I feel naked without powder and lipstick but there’s nothing to be done about it. Smoothing my hair, I throw back my shoulders and open the door.

Professor Allard stands on the threshold. She’s a tall, plain woman with a pallid complexion, and when I look at her straight on, she can’t meet my eyes. She knows, like I do, that a transatlantic phone call at this hour can only be bad news. What she doesn’t know are the specifics, but I can guess those without even hearing Jamie’s voice on the other end of the line.

When Professor A ushers me into her sparsely furnished officeand motions to the phone, I sit down and stare pointedly until she leaves. Only then do I pick up the receiver.

“Hello?” I’m counting on the long-distance crackle to erase the rough edges of sleep still clinging to my voice, and blur any traces of the shame already weighing me down.

“Philippa. It’s Jamie.”

“I know.”

A long pause. “Oh, hang it all. What time is it there?”

I glance at the small clock on Professor Allard’s desk. “Twelve minutes past three, a.m. not p.m.”