Love Charms and Other Catastrophes (26 page)

“Of course,” Hijiri said. She didn't expect that part of Love's game to end so easily.

Love winked and faded out, the termination of a radio signal.

*   *   *

When Mr. and Mrs. Kitamura dropped Hijiri off at Lejeune's train station late Friday evening, they looked sorry to see her go.

“But I'm all better,” Hijiri said, giving her parents' hands a squeeze before climbing out of the backseat.

“Maybe we should eat at fancier restaurants more often,” Mr. Kitamura said, bemused.

She put on her backpack and checked to make sure she had her ticket in her coat pocket. “It wasn't the food. I liked your company.”

She turned on her heel and dashed into the station before she could see her parents' faces. Her smile didn't fade until the train carried her away from the city.

The trip back to Grimbaud was a blur. Hijiri clasped Ken's bell to her chest, listening to it chirp like a baby bird whenever the train car bumped along uneven tracks. Back to a warmer autumn. The beginning of November.

One month left to craft her missed-connections charm.

Her other deadlines were much shorter. Stop Stoffel. Catch the culprit. Find Ken. Tell him what her heart was feeling about him.

She took a cab back to the Student Housing Complex; walking such a distance alone wasn't an option with Stoffel lurking. Posters with the charmed robot's face on it had tripled since she was away. Grimbaud held its breath, waiting. She felt fear in the air.

When Hijiri reached her apartment, she unpacked and put the bell on top of her card catalog. Her fingers itched to get to work on her charm, but her heart demanded something different. Hijiri swore she'd listen, so she did: it wanted to sniff out Ken, even if it had to search every building in Grimbaud. And when it found him, her heart wanted to curl up inside his hands and stay there.

“Not shy anymore, are you?” Hijiri huffed. She took a steady breath, slipped her coat back on, and climbed the stairs to Ken's apartment. She knocked hard enough to make her knuckles sting. He didn't answer. She called his name and checked the windows, but all the lights were off. “Where could he be?” she asked.

Then she remembered what Fallon had said. That her friends would take care of him. Maybe he was with Sebastian and Fallon now?

Hijiri flew down the stairs and knocked on Sebastian's door.

Sebastian opened the door. He was still wearing his leather hip holster from his grooming job, dog hair covering his shirt and skin. “You're back,” he said, smirking. “Thought you'd be gone longer. A vacation before winter vacation.”

“I was ready,” she said.

The apartment smelled like onions and fresh bread. Fallon closed a cabinet door and brightened when she saw Hijiri. Relief lit every feature. “Your teachers missed you too,” she said, heading over. “I have the homework you missed.”

Hijiri smiled at her friends, but her eyes flickered over the rest of the apartment. A blanket had been draped over the back of the couch, a stack of pillows shoved in the corner. Her heart squeezed when she saw Ken's duffel bag next to the couch. “Where is he?” she said too softly, her voice cracking.

Sebastian and Fallon exchanged a look.

“There's something else you need to know,” Fallon said carefully.

“I've only been gone a day and a half,” Hijiri said, unable to mask her irritation.

“That's like a thousand years for the brokenhearted,” Sebastian said. “Ken's been staying here since you left.”

The bathroom door opened, releasing steam and a shirtless Ken, towel-drying his soft, dark hair. The scar over his heart was purplish. No blush to be found.

She said his name.

Ken turned still as stone at the sound of her voice. Slowly, he draped the towel over his shoulders and crossed his arms.

Hijiri fidgeted. “I was looking for you.”

Ken's answer was little more than a sigh. “Oh.”

This wasn't how she had imagined seeing him again after her trip home. Sure, she had expected his sadness, even anger, but not this quiet, moping version of the charm-boy she knew. “I used the charm you made me,” she ventured. “The hearth charm bell.”

Ken shifted his weight. He studied the radio sitting on Sebastian's coffee table.

“It worked,” Hijiri blurted. “My parents took me out to dinner Thursday night, just like they promised. I can't remember the last time they kept their promise. I know it was thanks to you. The charm called them back to me.”

Ken's mouth twitched. After seeing so many of his smiles, she couldn't pretend that this one came anywhere close.

Fallon grabbed Sebastian's arm and led him into the kitchen, giving Ken and Hijiri more space. Sebastian looked like he wanted to get in the middle of it, but Fallon's grip was unyielding.

“Please go back to your apartment,” Ken said.

“We need to talk. I saw Love while I was in Lejeune and this amazing—”

“
Please
,” he said, holding up his hand. “Just go.”

Hijiri swallowed thickly. “You're mad. I get it.”

Ken let out a dry laugh.

His laugh wasn't right. It was broken, wrong-sounding. Hijiri's pulse quickened. “Is your heart okay?” she asked softly. “Did I break it?”

Ken pressed his fingers against the scar and shook his head.

“Let me see,” she said, stepping toward him. Several love charms came to mind. “I bet I can fix it.”

“You've done enough, thank you,” he said harshly.

Hijiri flinched. “But you love me.”

Ken turned away.

“You
do
,” she said, her voice rising. His feelings for her had always been a constant. He bluntly told everyone he could about his love for her. He said it without words: through his unwavering belief in her, his touch, his tender smiles. He wouldn't deny it now, would he? “I dare you to say otherwise. Tell me when you first fell in love with me. Was it on your first day of school? When you popped out of the giant present?”

Ken looked over his shoulder, about to say something, when his hands flew to his throat and he hunched over, coughing.

Hijiri lunged forward and grabbed his shoulders, holding him upright as he coughed into his hands. Her mind raced.
Love's charm is stopping him from saying … what?

Ken sucked in a few deep breaths and leaned on his knees.

Hijiri bent down in front of him. Her eyes searched his face. “Did you love me … before you hid in that box?”
Before you ever met me?

He pushed away from her.

Hijiri waited another minute, but Ken stubbornly refused to open his mouth. She wished she had thought of complaining to Love about his charmed throat. Get that obstacle out of the way. But perhaps that was something she had to get rid of herself.

She clenched her jaw and said, with the absolute certainly of a love charm-maker, “If you won't tell me now, then maybe you will later. When I give you a better way of sharing the story.”

*   *   *

The florist had called that night to tell her that the hibiscus petals came in. Hijiri ended up making enough Heart's Ease tea to last for about a week—now that an entire hospital wing was occupied with Stoffel's victims. She warned Dr. Vermeulen that she couldn't keep up with the demand. He told her that Detective Archambault was still trying to squeeze a confession out of Gage, but the old man claimed innocence.

No chance of a real cure anytime soon.

That weekend, Hijiri holed up in her hermitage of an apartment, determined to finish her missed-connections love charm. When she worked hard, and her focus was at its best, she forgot everything else. No breakfast. No lunch. Her stomach growled and her laundry piled up, but Hijiri barely noticed. Her card catalog's open drawers looked like loose teeth, sticking out for hours before she remembered to close them.

Hijiri realized what was missing from the basic construction of her missed connections charm: heartstrings. Zita had used the townspeople's heart's threads to control them, but thanks to Love, Hijiri now knew that the heart had many strings—connected to destiny, perhaps, but also to other people.

Her run-in with Love made her even more sure that heartstrings were the key to her love charm.
It makes me believe that our hearts can be tangled and tied to each other, no matter how far away we are or how much time passes between
, Hijiri thought, bent over her table.
Our hearts remember more than our brains do. Even missed connections from many years ago can be found again
, she thought,
because that moment imprinted itself on the heart where it stays, long after the brain forgets.

She drew up new blueprints. Changed her materials. Then put her plans into action and crafted. Hijiri wiped the sweat from her face and finally took a break to eat hours later. When Fallon knocked on her door, she didn't even bother fixing the weak bun barely holding her hair back.

“I see you're putting your own heartbreak to good use,” Fallon said mildly. “When was the last time you took a shower?”

“Not heartbroken,” Hijiri insisted. “Just bruised. But if this charm works, I might finally solve Ken. Everything will be okay.”

Fallon tucked her hair behind her ears and lifted her chin. “I'm here to make sure you get to our charm theory club meeting today.”

“It's not Wednesday.”

“This is a special meeting. We really need you to be there.”

“Can we stop somewhere first? I need to see Ms. Ward. Urgently.”

“As long as you wash up,” Fallon said. “And change out of those pajamas.”

*   *   *

Hijiri made herself presentable with a quick shower and a change of clothes.
I hope this works
, she thought, wrapping her finished missed-connections charm in newspaper so that the glass bottle wouldn't break on her way to Ms. Ward's apartment. She put the bottle in her messenger bag and nearly ran out the door.

“Slow down,” Fallon called.

“I thought you said we have a meeting to go to,” Hijiri said, looking over her shoulder. “I'm hurrying.”

She and Fallon arrived at Ms. Ward's apartment, out of breath and sweaty.

“What a pleasure to see you two,” Ms. Ward said. Her brows furrowed. “Is there some kind of emergency?”

“I need your help,” Hijiri said, her heart still pounding from the brisk walk.

Ms. Ward flushed and welcomed them inside.

Hijiri moved a stack of hardcovers off the couch so she could sit while Ms. Ward brewed tea. Her stomach whined when the bitter scent reached her nose.

“If I understand you correctly,” she said, carrying the tea tray into the living room, “you've crafted a missed-connections charm.”

“That's right.” Hijiri snatched her teacup and drank, burning her tongue.

Fallon blew on her cup of tea. “She's going to use it for the competition.”

“I need to know if it's going to work. Would you like to try it?” Hijiri asked.

Ms. Ward's face flushed with pleasure. “I'd love to.”

Hijiri wasted no time in grabbing the charm from her bag: a green glass bottle with a red string tied around the neck. “This is it.”

“What does it do?”

Hijiri drew in a breath. She'd been practicing how to explain it clearly. “No matter how short an encounter is with someone, our hearts can remember forever. The memory is like a thread, connecting one heart to the other, and most of the time, we never realize the hearts we touch and those that touch ours.

“This charm taps into that connection. It's the same principle as using paper cups and string to communicate with a friend. You leave a message, the bottle carries it by following the string, and your missed connection receives the message. He or she can respond back the same way.”

Ms. Ward gasped. Her hands shook as she held tight to the bottle. “Am I dreaming?”

“I hope not. I don't know if it really works yet or not. Would you do me the honor of trying to contact one of your missed connections?”

The librarian didn't hesitate. “How?”

“You're going to send your memory of him,” Hijiri said. “Hold the bottle to your heart and remember. The charm will absorb the memory. You can also ‘think' a message to go along with the memory if you want. Either way, I've included instructions for the receiver. I'll get that while you remember.”

Ms. Ward grabbed Hijiri's elbow. “But I don't even know his name.”

She grinned. “You don't need to know where this person is, or his name, or if he's balding or has three kids by now. All that matters is that you remember him as he was then.”

“Okay,” Ms. Ward breathed more than said. She looked nervous. After a moment, she pressed the bottle to her heart and closed her eyes. The bottle began to glow.

Hijiri plunged her hands into her bag and felt around for the rolled-up instructions. If the charm worked, she'd need to print the instructions rather than handwrite them. Her handwriting was pretty neat, but not if she had to write hundreds of instructions at a time. She looked up in time to see golden sparkles fill the bottle and melt away.

“I think I did it,” Ms. Ward said, looking down. “The bottle feels heavier.”

Hijiri popped the instructions into the bottle and corked it. “Last step. You have to throw it.”

“Miss Kitamura,” she said, astonished, “this isn't a plastic bottle. It'll smash against the floor.”

“It won't
touch
the floor.”

Ms. Ward frowned.

“Go on. You have to be the one to do it. It's like throwing a bottle into the sea.”

Ms. Ward stood up, squeezed her eyes shut, and threw the bottle as hard as she could. The bottle sparked and disappeared in a puff of smoke before it could collide with the wall.

“There. It's sent,” Hijiri said, sighing.