A Kiss in Time (22 page)

Come, Princess, come with me. And then everything goes black.

T
alia? Talia! I try to catch her as she begins to fall. Is she sick?

Freaking out from the heat? Unable to stand the sight of a giant, sexual-looking water
lily?

Talia? I nudge her, at first gently, then harder as I real- ize her bodys limp.

Is she dead? Did her heart just realize it was three hundred years old and stop beating?
No! She cant be dead. No!

Talia? Say something! My whole body is quivering, but I have to stay calm. I have to help
her because she is the only one who can help me.

Now other people are crowding around, asking if shes okay, saying theyll call 911, shoving
and pushing, grab- bing and poking, until I cant breathe.

Breathe! I feel my heart crashing around in my chest, almost as though it isnt tethered down.

Anyone know CPR? a woman says.

I shove the gathered spectators away and kneel beside Talia. What I mean to do is CPR,
like I learned in my junior lifesaving course, but somehow, when I kneel beside her, when
I hold her in my arms, my mouth near her mouth, the events of the past weekTalia in the
castle, in the dungeon, on the airplane, at the party, at dinner, even Talia gazing at
that water lilyall swim before me like a river, a waterfall, and as on that day in the
castle, I grab her. I press my lips against hers.

I kiss her.

I kiss her long and hard and like both our lives depend on it, which maybe they do.

Dont go, Talia, I murmur.

Go? Dont I mean die?

I kiss her again, harder. But this time, I say, Please, Talia, I love you.

She stirs. I pull away, stare at her. She stares back, eyes widening. Jack? Are you all
right? Her white hand flutters to her even whiter forehead,

and she says, I was flying. Flying? Im aware of people around, a woman with a concerned face, a man who offers a water bottle, which I take, but I focus on Talia. Where
were you flying? Not where. She winces at the water I splash on her face. Not where but when. I was flying
back in time, fly- ing in the airplane back over the ocean, to Europe, then to Euphrasia,
to the tower room where I lay those three hundred years. I actually saw the three hundred
years, Jack. Euphrasia was invisible to the world, but it was there. I was there. I saw
the seasons change through the window. And then I saw my birthday eve, and every birthday
before that, every Christmas and state occasion. And finally, I was a little girl, playing
in the Euphrasian hills with Lady Brooke, and there was a cottage. Jacka stone peasant
cot- tage with a holly bush beside it, a cottage I always saw but never paid much
attention to. She stops to breathe, shak- ing. And in the eaves of that cottage was a
window, and in that window was a face, the face of the witch Malvolia. She was calling me,
saying I had to come back and do it all over again. I was back. She took me to her cottage
on the highest hill in Euphrasia, where I used to picnic with Lady Brooke. I was there.

No. You were here.

I was there. I could hear you saying, Talia, Talia, say something, but I could not answer,
for I was not here. I have to do it all over again.

Why? This makes no sense.

Because the spell was to be broken by the kiss of true loveI knew that. That is why it is
all wrong. You do not love me, and that is why Malvolia pulls me back to her.

Because I dont love you? Talia nods. But I do love you. Didnt you hear me say that, too? And as I say it, I realize
it is true. I love Talia, not just because shes hot (even though she is), and not just because shes kind and thoughtful and
smart, but because she makes me be all those things when Im around her. Im a better person
when Im with you. I dont want to stop being that person. I dont want you to go.

Really?

Will that be enough for her, for Malvolia, to make you stop having these creepy dreams? I
dont really believe Malvolia is appearing to Talia, but I know that Talia believes it, and
I want to make it better for her. Does it matter that I love you?

I see her think about it, really think like shes doing a crossword puzzle or a sudoku, not
just trying to think of an answer to a guy who said he loves her. I tell myself its
because she fainted, because shes freaking out or sick.

Talia? I try to meet her eyes, which have glazed over. Is she going to faint again?

But she shakes herself awake. Yes?

Do you love me back? Because maybe thats the prob- lem. Probably. Probably she thinks Im a
jerk compared to the princes she couldve had.

She looks off into the distance over my shoulder. She smiles. Yes, Jack, I love you. I
feel myself grin, even though loving Talia was some-

thing I never thought I wanted. Now, though, it seems so perfect. Talia talks to me. Talia knows me. She doesnt think Im a stupid party boy. She
even likes my kid sister.

I love you, too, Talia. She laughs. I know.

I
love him. I love him and he loves me; at least he says he does. Is it enough for Malvolia?
It must be. It is not like the world is absolutely crawling with eligible bachelors, dying
to marry a three-hundred- sixteen-year-old princess. And besides, Jack is the one I want,
the one I love.

I love you, too, I say, and mean it.

It will have to be enough, for in the moments before Jack revived me for the second time
with his kiss, I saw what Malvolia meant when she said, Come with me.

Come with me, Princess. Her voice was so soothing, lull- ing me like the oceans waves
outside the castle in Euphrasia. I almost wanted to go. Come with me.

And simultaneously, I felt my body falling and part of mesome other part, dare I say my soul?floating ahead of it, into the center of the water
lily, then through the water and down, down, until finally I was back in Euphrasia.
Malvolia was with me, towering over me, a spindle in her hand.

Will you kill me? I asked, not as if this was a terrible ideafor my body felt light and
floating, as if I had taken opiumbut merely as a point of fact.

No, Princess. Her voice was the same, but I could see that her smile was false, as though
her lips were trying to express one emotion while her eyes showed quite another. The eyes
were true, and they were cruel. Not yet.

That was when Jack kissed me, and I woke to his decla- ration of love. He was my savior
once again.

And yet, even as Jack declared his love for me, I thought I heard Malvolias voice in the
distance, calling me back.

T
alia and I spend the next few hours walking around Fairchild, looking at the plants and
kissing. Its a cool place, and I get a lot of good ideas for my garden design, which I
plan to show Talia. I tell her about it, and she says shes really looking forward to
seeing it.

She doesnt imagine she sees Malvolia again. Im hoping that now that Ive told her I love
her, maybe shell get over this guilt trip shes on about it not being true loves kiss that
woke her, and shell stop thinking that Malvolias going to take her back to Euphrasia.

It seemed so real, she says. She even brandished a spindle.

Its all over now. And then I was in her cottage. Her cottage? Yes, I told you about it beforea peasants cottage atop the highest hill in Euphrasia.

No, Talia. I stroke her hand. You were right here the whole time, at Fairchild. I saw you.
It was a dream.

I hope so.

After Fairchild, we come home and kiss some more and discuss what to do about the huge
problem of her not being able to stay here after a week. We decide to think about it
tomorrow. Dads working late, and Moms shopping with Meryl. So we get some pizza, then
watch television.

It all falls apart when the eleven oclock news comes on. The newscaster is saying
something about a father searching for a missing daughter. She was last seen with an
American youth.

Talia gasps. Father!

I look. Its the king. Hes standing on a street corner. He wears a crown and his king
clothes. He holds a painting of a beautiful blond girl.

Talia. The headline onscreen says
MISSING GIRL
. Talia stares, horrified, at the screen. Then she moves closer, as if she has forgotten the difference between televi- sion and reality.

Father, she says. Its a whimper. Maybe its not that bad, I say. But I know it is. They
show the king again, looking tortured worse than when he ate the tough peacock. How long has the girl been missing?
asks the reporter. She is not a girl, says the king. She is a princess. The heir apparent to the Euphrasian
throne.

Ah, a princess. I see. The reporter smirks. From Euphrasia.

They do not believe him, Talia says. They think him insane.

And she has been missing several days, a week, the king says.

Had you argued? the reporter asks. Could the prin- cess have run away?

Theyre flashing a 1-800 number over the kings head, to call with tips.

Argued, yes, says the king. You could say that. But my Talia, she would never run away.
She was sheltered, innocent in the ways of the world. She could not go out on her own. She
would . . . she would . . . He looks like hes going to cry. She was the light of my life!
Of all our lives! No matter what. If she has been kidnapped, or worse, I do not know what
I shall do.

Do you suspect foul play, then? the reporter asks.

I do not know, says the king. Perhaps. There was a boy. . . .

I groan. He thinks I kidnapped you.

The news goes to another story, a story about the sud- den decline of a forest on the
Belgian border, but Talia still stares at the television.

Its okay, Talia. Well fix it all. Okay? It is most assuredly not okay. While I have been frolicking in America, my parents, who have lost every- thing, believe I am lost to them
as well. I have frolicked, Jack! And drank and partied. And my parents are in such agony
that my fatherwho has never seen a car or a bus, let alone a television camerahas somehow
gotten out of Euphrasia and found this Belgian news station, all in the hope of finding
me, his most beloved daughter. The light of his life.

Yeah. It does sound pretty bad when she puts it that way.

We must call.

What? Im thinking of what they said about foul play. I didnt kidnap Talia, but sometimes
things get messed up. What if they think I did? I dont We must call. My father is suffering.

Wait! Shes leaving. Shes going to get on a plane, and Ill never see her again. I
understand. Youre right. You have to call.

I am horribly selfish and thoughtless. She tries to grab the phone from me.

No, youre not. I hold it away from her. Youre nice. Youre going to call now that you know
he wants you back. But couldnt we just wait until morning?

Morning?

Its the middle of the night. Its later there. Everyones probably asleep. That news show
wasnt live. It couldnt have been. And Im just a little worried that theyll think I
kidnapped you. But you did not. I will tell them you did not.

But they might not believe you. They might think you have . . . I try to remember the name
of it, this thing I heard about on television, where victims bond with their captors. . .
. Stockholm syndrome.

Impossible. I have never even been to Sweden.

Still, your dad threw me in a dungeon once. Whats to say he wouldnt . . . misunderstand
again? Couldnt we just wait until tomorrow when my dads home?

It sounds crazy, but Im thinking maybe Meryl was right. My parents have bailed me out a
bunch of times when Ive screwed up. No, they havent been perfect. Sometimes theyve been
total jerks. But theyre the only parents I have, and I dont want to go through this alone.

I promise, I say, Im not trying to get you not to call them. I know its the right thing to
do. Its just . . . I want my dad here, too.

Talia nods. All right. Tomorrow, then.

T
omorrow. Tomorrow I will speak to Father, perhaps even go back to Euphrasia. Will it be
the same Euphrasia I have always known, or will it be irreversibly changed?

It matters not. As soon as I saw Fathers dear face on that television, all thought of
anything else evaporated, replaced by only one notion: I must find him. I must let him
know I am all right.

I settle down on the air mattress. Finally, it has just the right consistency, the correct
amount of air, and now I am leaving. I remember that first night when I was visited by the
Jell-O demons and Jack came in to comfort me.

Dear Jack . . . Will I ever see him again? In my time, if someone journeyed from Euphrasia
to America, one might never return. But now, there are air- planes, cellular telephones, even
something called email. Surely, I will be able to see Jack again. After all, we love each
other.

For the first time since waking from my long sleep, I am able to rest.

The Jell-O demons do not return. Instead, when I open my eyes, it is morning and Malvolia
stands before me.

You got away, she says. I was rescued, I reply, by my true loves kiss. Rescued? You cannot
be rescued. She grabs my hand, and I see a spindle in her other. No! I scream it, but
nothing comes out. Still, my throat hurts as if I have screamed. It feels flaming and raw. The old womans claws dig
into my hand.

No! I manage to say. I must go back to Father. It is probably best that Malvolia does not
know this, for it is not a sentiment destined to win her over. Still, I struggle. The room
is dark, and I can see little. The old woman pulls at me, and although I try to rise and
struggle against her, I am unable to find purchase on the tight air mattress. I fall back-
ward. My arm feels as though the veins are being stripped from it, and I hit my head upon
something, a chair.

Then everything goes from black to blacker.