Chapter Twenty-Eight #2
For the second time that night, David found himself truly in tears.
At the idea of anyone having said such things to Meredith, at him taking the words to heart.
David cried at knowing he had been responsible for some of the damage himself, at looking around the room and seeing what little difference his efforts had made.
His time must be nearly at an end by now, and he was still too frightened to touch the heart ruby for fear of destroying it completely.
But as David wiped his eyes and gazed around the room once more, he realized that not all the mirrors were shattered. Some remained intact, and others were spiderwebbed with cracks but seemed to be held together by the words scrawled over them.
In Kinley’s unmistakable slanting all-caps: You’re my little brother and I love you, okay?
In Bednarek’s surprisingly graceful calligraphy: I am certain you will make someone a lovely wife or husband someday.
In Mrs. Jupiter’s looping hand: You mean a great deal to me, and I know I would not be the only one devastated should you come to harm.
In David’s own neat script: You sparkle enough all on your own.
Dotting the walls throughout was the odd pawprint he recognized as Bianca’s (all too well, after the incident with the India ink).
And, freshly painted, with a weak glow around the words: Hush, little bird.
That brought a smile to his face, albeit a bittersweet one. So Meredith liked to be called that after all, even if he did protest.
Wait.
Wait.
David had said that only a short time ago, here in the Wood.
“Meredith,” he said aloud, “can you hear me? You can, can’t you?
” He didn’t know what sort of response he expected, but he had an idea of how to get one.
In fact, he knew exactly what he had to say, no matter how the words seemed to stick in his throat, weighted by remorse.
“I know now just how badly I let you down tonight when I didn’t talk to Cartier, and I’m sorry.
I was afraid of what he’d think, but I shouldn’t have been, because it doesn’t matter—not nearly as much as you do. ”
Nothing. Perhaps he was approaching this all wrong—or perhaps it wasn’t enough, not yet, and Meredith was waiting for him to continue.
“It can’t have been easy to find out that I’d been looking at other places, either, and I wish you hadn’t found out the way you did.
I wish I hadn’t set about it without telling you to begin with, and if I could take it back, I would.
Deep down, I knew all along something was wrong with all those houses, and now I understand what it was.
Not a single one of them was right because no place feels like home without you there. ”
Did David imagine it, or was there a faint indefinable sensation just beyond the edges of his perception?
“And I hope you know, when I offered you my sweater, it wasn’t because I was trying to make you cover up in front of Cartier or your brother or anybody else.
There’s nothing the matter with you just as you are.
You just seemed so uncomfortable with the way Steve Corner was looking at you, and I couldn’t stand the thought of anyone making you feel that way, and to tell the truth, I—I like it when you wear my things,” he confessed, in spite of his own embarrassment. “Makes me go quite wobbly inside.”
At that, there was a dull but unmistakable glow deep within the mass of ruby fragments.
“You can hear me.”
There were so many things that needed to be said. David hadn’t managed to say them properly before, and he still didn’t know if he could now. But that was how they’d wound up in their current predicament, and if there was to be any hope of them getting out of it, he had to try.
“Meredith, I’m sorry, for so many things.
I’m sorry for the awful things I’ve said, and for not making sure you knew I didn’t mean them.
Right now I’m especially sorry that we’ve misunderstood each other so badly.
Neither of us has been saying what we really mean, and I suppose that went about as well as one might expect.
Earlier tonight, I wasn’t turning you down.
I was trying to tell you—” He took a deep breath and forced himself to say it.
“I was trying to tell you that I love you. I had hoped you might feel the same.”
This time, there was a definite pulse of dark red light that lasted for a full second.
“You do?”
The cracked ruby pulsed again, throbbing so intensely he could practically feel its affirmation.
“I know, love, I got it all wrong. We both did. You were trying to tell me exactly that—you’ve been trying to tell me all along, only I’ve been such a fool, I never realized it was me you were talking about.
” David scrubbed a hand across his eyes, but his voice grew steadier.
“I’ve loved you for a long time, I think, only I was too caught up in my own head to realize how I felt or what it meant.
But the truth is, I can’t imagine what I’d do without you.
That frightens me like you wouldn’t believe, and I’ve been trying to convince myself I didn’t need you, but I do. ”
Saying it aloud brought him a certain relief, but he’d expected something more to happen, something to signify his success.
But of course, how could he have succeeded when Meredith’s heart still lay in pieces before him?
David had to take the chance, or they were never going to get anywhere. He pressed both palms to the mound of ruby fragments and hoped his idea would work.
“Meri, I love you so much. I love your innocence, and how you want to hold hands and kiss everybody without a second thought because that’s just how you think the world should be.
I love that you never match your socks, I love that you make coffee so strong nobody else can stand to drink it, I love that I never know what you’re going to do the next day or the next hour or the next five seconds.
I love that I have to know dozens of obscure singles by bands nobody remembers just to have the least idea what you’re talking about half the time, and that you cry every time Peter Gabriel comes on the radio, and that you never let anybody else define you because you know who you are.
I wish I had your confidence, and I wish I’d understood how I really felt instead of blundering around for so long and hurting us both. ”
At his words, the light continued to pulse with increasing speed. At each heartbeat, the cracks in the gem seemed to heal themselves, until it was whole and shimmering—whole, aside from the single piece of glass still lodged in its center.
David took another chance. He took hold of the glass shard, sharp and jagged and bigger than his palm, and, with all his strength, managed to pull it free. It bore the single word he’d already known it would: Don’t.
He rested his hand over the single deep crack that remained.
“You poor silly bird. You are just like one, you know, going and throwing yourself against windowpanes because you can’t see what’s right in front of you.
But I didn’t, either, did I?” he admitted.
“But you’re my little bird, my glittering magpie. My starlight,” he whispered.
David pressed a kiss to his fingertips, and his fingertips to the spot where the glass had lodged.
It filled in, solidified, and light emanated from the jewel, no longer dark but blindingly bright.
David gripped the glass tight, heedless of the blood on his fingers, a fierce joy in his own heart.
The chamber of mirrors faded away, and he stood in the Erlking’s dark lair, surrounded by dying pines.
“It’s impossible,” growled the Erlking, fumbling with his half-full wineglass. “You were supposed to be stuck in there forever.”
So that had been his plan. “Yet here I am,” said David. “Will you keep your word or not?”
“You impudent wretch!” The Erlking took a step toward him, reaching out, grasping—and then stopped short, looking sharply past him.
“He has defeated you fairly, according to your own terms,” said the Moon Calf, now entering the clearing to join David. He hoped that was a sign of the Erlking’s power waning.
“Go and seek your sustenance elsewhere,” added the Night Horse, stepping up to stand at the Moon Calf’s side. “You are not welcome here.”
The Erlking glowered.
In the tense silence, the Night Horse tossed his mane. The Moon Calf pawed the ground. The Forkupine’s tines glinted in the moonlight. The stance of the dryads shifted subtly in preparation. The Most Weasel rose up on its hind legs. Even the Mice bared their tiny teeth.
The Erlking charged, razor-sharp claws outstretched.
David was frozen. He had no time to think, no time to do anything except close his eyes and clutch the only weapon he had at hand, the final shard of mirror glass. On sheer instinct, he thrust it forward as the Erlking lunged at him—surely a futile gesture.
The Erlking skidded to a halt, howling in rage. The glass broke apart and fell to pieces, leaving David holding one last remnant, half its original size.
The Erlking drew a long, rasping breath.
David forced one eye open, then the other, and took in the truth: it was neither the threat of the jagged glass nor the sight of his own reflection that had stopped him in his tracks, but rather the glowing ruby light that emanated from the remaining mirror shard.
Unable to repress a shudder, the Erlking backed away, one arm shielding his face. “Stop!” he cried. “Take it away! I cannot bear it!”
David still could not find his voice, but the Moon Calf spoke in his stead.
“Begone from here,” it ordered, “and do not return to darken this forest with your foul deeds.”
“Do not imagine you have seen the last of me,” hissed the Erlking, and with as much dignity as he could muster, he turned away and stalked off into the darkness, cloak swirling about him.
David was ready to collapse with relief, but he couldn’t, not yet. He returned to Meredith, who still lay peacefully upon the stone table, and nudged his shoulder. “Come on, then, Your Majesty. Your loyal subjects await.”
When he didn’t stir, David tried again, giving him a firmer shake. “Meri, love, wake up. We’re going home.”
But Meredith didn’t open his eyes.