Always October (23 page)

His voice broke off and his eyes misted up.

“Tia LaMontagne?” I asked softly.

He nodded. “She was the most beautiful woman I ever saw, Lily. Even so, there was something strange about her. For one thing, she was so pale, she looked as if she were carved out of white marble, like one of those tombstone angels come to life.” Grampa paused, and I could tell it was hard for him to go on. At last he said, “When I asked her if she was all right, she reached a hand toward me, then gave a little cry and collapsed.”

Grampa went silent. I was itching to know what came next, but we had come to an upward slope that was covered with loose stones, and it took all our attention to climb it without slipping. When we finally reached the top, I said, “So what happened after she collapsed?”

“I picked her up and carried her to the house—same place we live now—and we sent for Doc Dillon. Docs still visited back in those days. Doc said there was nothin' wrong with her, she just needed rest.”

He turned away, as if he couldn't bear to say more. After a bit of silence Mrs. McSweeney picked up the tale. “Well, no one thought it was fit for that woman to stay in the house with two men, of course. And since Abraham and I were cousins, he brought her to me. He used to bring me all his problems back then, me being five years older and
considerably
wiser.”

“Which is why you had four husbands, you being so smart and all,” said Grampa with a snort.

“Only one bad marriage in the lot,” replied Mrs. McSweeney serenely. “I simply outlived them all, and you know it.” She turned back to Jacob and me. “As I was saying, they brought the mystery woman to me. It didn't take too long for her to recover, and I found her fascinating … partly because she wouldn't say word one about where she was from or how she got here. The only thing she wanted was to meet Arthur Doolittle! I might have been jealous if I hadn't found a good man of my own by that time. Well, set that aside. Arthur wasn't that famous yet, so he was delighted to meet a fan, especially one who was quite beautiful. As it turned out, she was more than a fan … she was also a brilliant painter. Even better, from Arthur's point of view, she liked painting scenes from his stories. Six months after they met, Tia and Arthur were married.”

I glanced at my grandfather. He was staring at the ground.

“Well, a bit of time went on and the two of them seemed truly happy together. Tia never really fit in, of course. Not easy to get accepted in a small town under the best of circumstances, and Tia was just odd enough to make it even harder.”

“I know what that's all about,” I muttered.

“Then one day she just … vanished. It was quite a scandal. From what Arthur testified, the last time he saw Tia, she was in her studio, finishing up a painting. He was up in the tower, working on his new book, not knowing it was the one that was going to make him famous. Lunchtime rolled around and he went down to get her and … she was gone.

“Now, some folks wanted to believe he had killed her. But there was no sign of blood and no one ever found a body. Other folks thought she just got tired of living with such a peculiar man. Some thought something stranger had happened, though no one could ever say exactly what it was. All anyone really knew was that she had just vanished.” She snapped her fingers. “Like that!”

I saw Jacob shiver.

“Eventually Arthur remarried and had a son. That would be your dad, Jacob. And Abraham here, he recovered too—”

“Did not,” muttered Grampa.

“Well, whether you recovered or not, you got married, which is how come Lily is here.” Turning to Jacob, she said, “About the time your daddy was ten, your Grampa Arthur disappeared. Not as mysteriously as Tia, since he left a note, though the note itself was pretty mysterious.” She closed her eyes, as if searching her memory, then quoted: “‘The mystery calls. Though it breaks my heart to go, I can stay no longer. Forgive me, wife. Forgive me, son. I have done the best I could. With love and regret, Arthur.'”

I shivered as I recognized the message we had found in Jacob's father's notebook.

“My dad never told me that,” said Jacob, his voice bitter.

Mrs. McSweeney nodded. “No surprise there. Your daddy didn't like to talk about it.”

“But why did Tia come to our side of the Tapestry to begin with?” I asked. “And why did she leave?”

“As Keegel Farzym told you, monsters occasionally visit Humana, just as some few humans, like me, sometimes visit Always October. One of their … well,
scouts
, I guess you could call them … brought back some of Arthur's early stories, the ones where he was trying to create a world of monsters to write about. Tia liked the stories, but he was getting a lot wrong, and it annoyed her. She came to Humana to set him straight and ended up falling in love. She was, in the truest sense, his muse.
A World Made of Midnight
and all the other Always October stories never would have been written without her.”

“That doesn't answer the question of why she left,” said Jacob. “Especially if she loved him.”

Mrs. McSweeney glanced at Grampa, then said, “Tia left because she was going to have a baby, and she felt it would be safer for it to be born in Always October.”

“How do you know all this stuff?” I asked.

Mrs. McSweeney smiled. “A woman alone in a strange new world needs a friend to confide in, Lily. Tia chose me to be that friend. It's how I learned about Always October and found my way into the magical world.”

“It's also how she got me,” put in Luna, who was trotting along at her feet.

“And a great blessin' to me you've been, darlin'.”

About that time we reached a tunnel that sloped upward and brought us back to the surface. Even above ground it was still night, though I couldn't tell if that was because we had slept so long or just because it stayed that way in Always October most of the time. At least the moon was full … and fully visible, since the forest where we now stood was sparse, the trees small and twisted.

We could hear the River Doom before we saw it.

“Getting close!” said half of Sploot Fah.

“Sploot Fah good guide!” said the other with obvious self-delight.

We emerged from the forest onto a stretch of bare rock about fifty feet wide. In the light of the full moon I could see that the rock ended at the lip of a chasm. I couldn't tell how deep the chasm was. I
could
, however, see that it was hundreds of feet to the other side.

Stretching across that gap was the strangest bridge I had ever seen.

Also the most frightening.

It was a good thing I was carrying the baby at that point, because if
I
thought the bridge was frightening, then I was pretty sure Jacob was about to …

F
REAK OUT!

Of course I freaked out.

I have a problem with bridges even when they're short, wide, and sturdy. The Black Bridge of Doom wasn't short, it wasn't wide, and it wasn't sturdy. Oh, and one more thing it wasn't: something on which any sane person would set foot!

“I can't cross that!” I screamed.

The truth was, I had been bracing myself for this moment ever since the Poets had first told us we would have to cross a bridge. I had also been praying it wasn't going to be one of those swaying rope-and-board horrors you sometimes see in adventure movies. I should have been so lucky! The Black Bridge of Doom was not made of rope and boards, or metal, or stone, or concrete, or anything normal like that.

It was made of twigs.

Twigs
!

Long black twigs that grew together in a woven mass and stretched from one side of the abyss to the other, a distance that appeared to be longer than a football field.

As if that wasn't bad enough, the wretched thing was only three feet wide, hardly enough to make me feel safe—especially since it had no side rails!

“I can't go on that,” I repeated, more softly this time. “Why didn't the Poets warn us it was made for crazy people?”

“If you'll remember, our conversation with the Poets was cut short,” said Mrs. McSweeney. “And I'm afraid you'll
have
to cross it if you want to get home.”

I stared at the bridge in dismay, flinching as it swung in a gust of wind.

“Why can't you cross?” asked half of Sploot Fah.

“Jacob has a problem with bridges,” said Lily.

“But it's a very nice bridge!” cried Sploot Fah's other half. He scampered onto the bridge, ran about twenty feet out, then jumped up and down. I suppose the point was that since it didn't collapse, I should feel safe crossing it. Unfortunately, though the bridge didn't fall, it
did
bend and sway. The sight made my stomach churn. Sploot Fah wasn't that big. If the bridge moved that way under
half
of him, what would it do when I got on?

“Jacob, darlin', we've got to cross that bridge if we're goin' to get you home,” Mrs. McSweeney repeated.

“I know, I know,” I groaned. “But you'll have to give me time to get ready for it. Maybe you could just knock me out and carry me.”

Gnarly rolled his eyes. “Fer Pete's sake, kid, it's just a bridge. Get over it.” He blinked, looking surprised at himself, then began to laugh. “That was a good one! Get it? Bridge? Get over it?”

I liked him better when he showed no sense of humor at all.

“We can't delay much longer,” Mrs. McSweeney said firmly. “It's possible Mazrak is on our trail.”

I drew several deep breaths, tapping the fingers of both hands against my thumbs so fast, it's a wonder my arms didn't go airborne. Then a sound distracted me—LD, shaking that rattle I had bought him.

In that moment I knew, without question, what would get me across.

“It's my job to take care of Little Dumpling,” I told myself firmly. ‘“And I have to get him to the other side.”

I turned it into a ritual. Crossing my arms in front of my stomach so my right hand was against my left elbow, and vice versa, I repeated to myself, “It's my job to take care of the baby. It's my job to take care of the baby. It's my job to take care of the baby.”

Each time I said it, I smacked my fingertips against my elbows.

Ten repeats, ten smacks, and I was ready to give it a try. Stepping over to Lily, I reached for LD and said, “All right, let's go.”

She hesitated, then said, “Maybe we should bind LD to your back before you cross.”

“How?” I asked.

“Octavia's silk would do,” said Mrs. McSweeney. “It might be safer that way, Jacob. I'd hate to think of LD lunging for someone else while you're in the middle of that thing.”

“I could carry him,” offered Gnarly, surprising me a bit.

“Thank you, Abraham,” said Mrs. McSweeney. “But I think it's better to have you on defense, in case of attack.”

He nodded and tightened his grip on his pickax.

I had decided Lily's idea made sense. Lifting my shirt, I unwound the silk and handed it to Mrs. McSweeney. Lily put LD on my back, and Mrs. McSweeney started wrapping the silk around the two of us. The little guy protested at first, but after a minute or so he settled down.

“I think the binding makes him feel secure,” explained Mrs. McSweeney. She stepped back to admire her handiwork. “There,” she said with satisfaction. “Snug as a little papoose!”

I swallowed hard. It was time to start.

Half of Sploot Fah was on the bridge already.

Lily went next.

Then it was my turn. Luna Maria Eleganza trotted on beside me, as if to provide encouragement. I needed it, because the bridge instantly sagged beneath my feet, making my stomach lurch. It was like walking on a trampoline, except a trampoline is wide and only a few feet above the floor while the bridge was narrow and spanned a horrifying chasm.

“Good boy!” cried the part of Sploot Fah who was ahead of me.