Midnight Dolls (6 page)

“Unfortunately, that means that Main de Lumière's fears are true,” my father concludes, looking at me with a strange blend of fear and pride. “You could be the most powerful queen the world has ever known.”

T
hat night I dream of shipwrecks and storms, of gold coins washing up on deserted beaches, and of the bones of sailors who died centuries ago.

When I awaken, I realize that Peregrine, who's sharing a bed with me, is already up, staring at the ceiling. Chloe is still fast asleep on an air mattress on the floor.

“Morning,” Peregrine says without looking at me. “Bad dream?”

“How did you know?”

“You were thrashing around like a mental patient.”

I apologize for waking her, but she waves me off. “It wasn't you. I woke up on my own. I've got to say, I'm pretty freaked out by everything here. That andaba ceremony . . . it just wasn't right.”

“Because they got the ghost of the captain to actually appear to us?”

“I guess. It just feels strange. I always thought we were running a big risk by inviting spirits to take over our bodies in zandara. But at least we have some control over the situation.”

I shrug and wait for her to go on. I'm surprised to hear her expressing any kind of concern about zandara, which she has, so far, seemed to adore wholeheartedly.

“But in andaba,” she says, “the way they actually bring the spirit back, well, it's weird. I mean, spirits aren't supposed to be able to bring their physical forms back from the dead with them, are they?”

I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling. “Just because we don't do it in zandara doesn't mean it's wrong. Maybe we can learn something from andaba about what's possible.”

“But doesn't it make you uneasy?”

“Not exactly. It makes me wonder what else I don't know yet.”

Peregrine goes to take a shower, so I step over Chloe and head downstairs to the kitchen in my T-shirt and pajama pants. My father is standing at the stove flipping pancakes when I walk in. “Hi, honey,” he says. “I thought I'd get some breakfast started. How are you doing?”

I shrug.

“The ceremony last night worried you a bit, didn't it?” he asks. When I nod, he adds, “You know, that's the first time we've seen Captain Cabrillo so clearly in a very long time.”

“Really? How come?”

“The more kings we have performing a ceremony, the
stronger we are. For a long time now, it has just been Simon, George, and me, and occasionally Simon's son. With you here too, we were able to call on Captain Cabrillo much more effectively.”

“What about the other kings in my generation?”

“George's son won't be seventeen until next month, so he's not casting with us yet. And Simon's son, well, he was getting ready for a trip yesterday. But you'll meet him today.” He pauses, and a shadow crosses his face. “There's one more andaba king alive right now. My father.”

“Wait,” I say, my heart suddenly thudding. “Your father is still alive? I have a grandfather?” All these years, it was just Aunt Bea and me. Now, with my father's return and the revelation that I have a living grandparent, I've effectively doubled my family in less than three weeks.

My father nods. “Up until about a year ago, he was here with us, which made us much stronger, since he's a very powerful king.”

“So where did he go? Will I get to meet him soon?”

“He was diagnosed with lung cancer last year,” my father says. “Just like zandara, andaba has very strict rules about kings not extending their own lives. The only possibility of real treatment was for him to move to the mainland, see an oncologist, and begin chemotherapy.”

“So he's in a hospital somewhere?”

My father frowns. “It's been a long time since anyone here on Caouanne Island has heard from him. He kept us updated
through the first two rounds of chemo, and then he stopped calling about six months ago. Last I heard, he was trying to track down a few leads on Main de Lumière.”

“You don't think he died, do you?” I ask, my heart plummeting.

“No,” he says firmly. “In andaba, we always know when a king has perished. The sky turns black on the day of his death, and the leaves all fall from the island's trees.”

“So why hasn't he been in touch with you?” I ask.

A muscle in my father's jaw twitches. “After I married your mother, everything changed between us. I think he felt like I'd betrayed him by leaving. Unfortunately, our relationship has been strained since then.”

I stare at my dad, feeling suddenly guilty. “Was he mad at you because you had a child with someone outside of Caouanne Island?”

“Honey, it had nothing to do with that. It had to do with me following my heart over tradition. He felt like I was abandoning my responsibilities here.”

“But you came back,” I say. “You left Mom and me and returned here.”

“But I did that in order to protect you, not because I was choosing andaba over my family. My father knew that and resented it.”

“Have you tried talking to him?” I ask. “Before he disappeared, I mean?”

My father sighs. “It's more complicated than that,
unfortunately. My father's very obstinate once he makes up his mind.”

I pause as it sinks in just how much my father gave up. I take a deep breath. “I'm lucky to have you back in my life. I don't think I've been giving you enough credit for that. You know, in zandara, queens don't usually know their fathers.” Peregrine and Chloe had filled me in a couple of months ago about the strange tradition in Carrefour of zandara queens having one-night stands with men for the sole purpose of getting pregnant, and then casting charms to erase the men's memories.

My father makes a face. “I never did understand that part of zandara. I've always thought it's important to know where you come from. Then again, I'm not sure the system on Caouanne Island is a great idea either.”

“Why? What do they do here?”

He hesitates. “When a future king is a child, the current kings get together and choose a future wife for him.”

“Like an arranged marriage?” I ask.

“Sort of,” he says. “They base the decision on a few things: compatibility, friendships between the parents, and of course, power.”

I think about this for a moment before what he's saying really hits me. “So you had someone you were supposed to marry?”

“That's in the past,” he says quickly.

I study his face before realization dawns. “Diane,” I say.
“Diane was who you were paired with, wasn't she? That's why she's been so cold to me.”

“It doesn't matter, Eveny. I fell in love with your mother.” He pauses. “I remember my father in a rage, telling me that I was shaking the very balance of andaba with my decision, undermining decades of alliances between families.”

“But you chose love,” I say.

My father nods. “I chose love.”

“Wait,” I say after a pause. “Do
I
have someone I'm supposed to marry? Since I'm an andaba queen?”

My father hesitates. “It's different with you. We've never had a queen before. But I promise, I have no intention of trying to force anyone on you. You should be able to choose for yourself.”

“Good morning.” A deep, sleepy voice from the doorway cuts our conversation short, and we look up to see Caleb standing there in sweatpants and a Ron Jon T-shirt. “I hope I'm not interrupting.”

My father and I exchange looks, and I wonder if he's thinking, as I am, about the timing of Caleb's arrival. If I truly have a choice about who to love, I wouldn't think twice.

“No, Caleb,” I say. “You're not interrupting at all.”

The mothers sleep in while the rest of us grab pancakes and orange juice. By eleven, everyone's up and ready for the day.

“We don't have to leave for the airport until four,” my dad says. “Does anyone feel like a tour of the town?”

The mothers and their protectors decline, but Peregrine and Chloe say they'll come. Simon arrives a few minutes later, and we pile with our protectors into his car and my dad's for the short ride into town. They parallel park on Rue Vert, the main road through Caouanne Island, and we step out onto a brick street. American flags snap in the breeze, and wind chimes sound from many of the doorways.

“Caouanne Island was built around the same time as Carrefour,” my father explains as we walk. “There's a canal over to the left that cuts the island in half. It's spanned by a bunch of little bridges—which we'll see in a bit—so some of the townspeople joke that we're the secret Venice of the South.”

Simon chuckles and adds, “Our ancestors came from New Orleans, just like yours did. The difference is that when they moved here, they cut ties almost completely with that part of their history. That's why Caouanne Island doesn't feel as reminiscent of New Orleans as Carrefour does.”

We take a left off Rue Vert. Ahead of us, I can see a small arched bridge spanning a twinkling canal. “Because everyone in town knows about andaba,” Simon continues, “it's been much easier for us to keep up the town than I imagine it is for you. Unlike you, we don't have to hide our powers. The residents here have everything they want and need.”

“But who works for you?” Peregrine asks. “In Carrefour, we have the Périphérie. You know, the poor people who aren't in on the Secret of Carrefour. That's who works in our stores and restaurants.”

I give her a look.

“Here on Caouanne Island, we don't see a reason to divide the haves and the have-nots.” Simon looks straight ahead as he speaks, and I have the distinct feeling he's judging us. “Everyone in town has a job. Everyone benefits equally.”

“Like communism?” Peregrine asks.

Simon looks at her like she's crazy. “Of course not. Simply like a utopian society.”

She shrugs. “Sounds like a lot of work.”

“Hard work is the backbone of every successful society,” Simon says. “For example, take me: I'm a king, but I act as a boat captain when I'm needed, and I use my carpentry skills to beautify the town and keep up everyone's homes. In fact, I built this bridge.” He gestures ahead of us to the wooden footbridge that arches over the canal. “It took me two years,” he adds, “but it's my masterpiece.”

“It's nice and all,” Peregrine says, “but I thought you said you could use your magic out in the open here. Why would you do things by hand?”

“Because,” my father answers, “we believe that magic should be used in moderation and that we should never take the spirits' generosity for granted, because it always comes at a price.”

Peregrine makes a harrumphing noise, but she drops the subject. “So anyway, when's lunch?” she asks. “I want to have some time to go shopping before we go home.”

Caleb and I stay behind with Simon to admire the bridge he built while my dad takes the others back toward Rue Vert
to grab a table at the diner. Simon beams as he explains how he constructed an arch over the water tall enough to let canoes and kayaks through but with a low enough incline that it's easy for pedestrians to cross.

“It's modeled after the Kapellbrücke bridge in Lucerne, Switzerland,” he says as he leads us onto the bridge. I notice that the wooden trusses all feature paintings, and I lean closer to see them as Simon continues. “The Kapellbrücke is full of landscapes and portraits, but I'm a lousy artist, so I was never able to do that here. But as it turned out, my son is a very talented painter. When he was fourteen, he started working on this bridge. So now, it's not only my masterpiece, but his too.”

“Your son's really talented,” I say as I stare at the images of shipwrecks, dark storms, and the early days of the town.

Simon smiles. “I'm very glad you think so.”

“Eveny?” Caleb asks. He's farther down the bridge, almost at the other side of the canal, studying a painting closely. “This one looks just like you.”

I walk over to see what he's looking at, and I'm surprised to see my own eyes looking back at me from a painted image. The girl's red hair flows in the breeze, and the white dress she's wearing billows out behind her. She's standing on a beach somewhere, and above her head, in the clouds, hovers a crown.

“It
is
Eveny,” Simon says, coming up behind us.

“Your son painted this?” I ask. “How did he know what I look like?”

“He said the image came to him in a dream.”

I blink a few times. “Your son dreamed about me?”

“Not only did he dream of you,” Simon says, “but he dreamed of your coronation as queen. He knew you'd be back here someday.”

I bend down to look at the painting again. It's beyond strange to see such an accurate depiction of me in a place I've never been, painted by an artist I've never met. As we walk back across the bridge and toward Rue Vert, I can't shake the strange feeling that the residents of Caouanne Island seem to have laid out the pieces of my life long before I got here.

“It's like they're already expecting you to return,” Caleb says softly as Simon strides ahead of us.

“It's more than that,” I reply. “I'm already part of their story, whether I like it or not.”

After a huge lunch of fried green tomatoes, corn bread, and Brunswick stew—a thick, sweet, and smoky regional specialty with tomatoes, lima beans, okra, corn, onions, beef, and chicken—we finish up with piping-hot peach cobbler and homemade vanilla ice cream at the diner. Peregrine and Chloe head off to shop, with their protectors in tow and Simon escorting them, while Caleb and I return with my dad to his house.

“Caleb, do you think you could give me a hand with something in the garden?” my father asks when we pull into the driveway. I notice that there's another car in front of the
house, a beige Lexus with tinted windows.

Caleb glances at the car, then at me. “Sure, Mr. Desjardins. Eveny, you okay?”

“She'll be fine,” my father says before I can answer. He avoids meeting my eye as he adds, “There's someone here to see you, Eveny. Why don't you head in?”