Pandora's Key (26 page)

“We already tried that,” Samantha said, walking into the room behind him.

Samantha (her hair chin-length and dyed red) and Dr. S. stared at Evangeline as she smoothed and adjusted her silvery-blue dress, a little uncomfortable with the attention, but also reveling in it. The shimmery sleeveless sheath fell just above Evangeline’s knees. Melodie had insisted on sewing the dress for her from a picture Evangeline had torn from W magazine. She’d wanted to make it ankle-length but Evangeline had insisted that shorter was cooler. Dr. Sullivan had suggested sleeves, but Samantha had convinced him otherwise, saying, “Evangeline will make anything she wears look sexy, even if it has a turtleneck, so why not let her have what she wants?”

Evangeline slipped on a pair of high-heeled silver sandals.

“I thought we said one-inch heels,” Dr. S. remarked, smiling. He handed her a red leather box with the word
Cartier
in gold script.

“What’s this?” Taken aback, Evangeline opened the box. Inside was a pair of delicate platinum and diamond earrings in the shape of flowering vines. They were gorgeous and seemed somehow familiar. She looked at Dr. S., who was studiously cleaning his glasses with the corner of his shirt.

“They were Frances’. She wore them when we got married.”

Evangeline remembered now—she’d seen the earrings in the wedding picture on Dr. S.’s refrigerator. “Are you sure?”

“I think she’d want you to have them.”

The doorbell rang.

“I’ll get that,” Dr. S. said, clearly relieved to leave the room.

Evangeline put on the delicate earrings.

“He’s doing better,” she said to Sam.

“You both are. You look stunning.” Sam tucked a curl behind Evangeline’s ear. It turned out that Stephanie liked to do hair and she’d somehow tamed Evangeline’s wild curls into a loose up-do that accentuated her long neck and showcased the gleaming black key against her skin. “Ready?”

“In a minute. I want to say goodbye to her before I go.” Evangeline walked down the hallway to Dr. S.’s guest room. They’d moved her mother into the house a month ago. She was still breathing on her own, but was what the medical profession called “unresponsive to external stimuli.” That basically meant that she remained in a coma, needed a feeding tube, catheter, and to be exercised, massaged, and rolled frequently to prevent bedsores. Samantha and the rest of Pandora had been working in shifts to take care of her—she was one of her own. As for the tumor, it had been slowly and steadily and miraculously shrinking.

Every night Evangeline sat with her mother, reading or singing to her, and telling her about her day. Sometimes she was able to imagine her mother to life for a few moments. But sometimes no matter how hard she tried to imagine her mother into life it didn’t work at all, and those days were the hardest because then she was forced to wonder if she’d really done her mom any favors by trying to heal her. Many times she felt like it was arrogance and her own selfish desires that had driven her that day in the hospital. Evangeline knew she would never be certain of her motives. She’d been raw and shell-shocked and desperate.

Evangeline stepped into her mom’s room. Her mother looked like a sleeping princess lying in bed covered by her favorite quilt. The swelling had disappeared and, uncharacteristically for a long-term coma patient, she had not curled into a fetal position. Instead, she looked rested—her skin was luminous, her lips rosy, and her hair shiny.

“Hi mom,” Evangeline said, taking her hand. She attempted to imagine her mother to life, but when she opened her eyes, her mom was still sleeping. “I’m going to my first prom tonight,” Evangeline said. “You’d love my dress. And my heels are so high I’m afraid I might trip. Dr. S. is one of the chaperones. I’m sure there’ll be members of the cult lurking around, but I’m getting used to them.”

“Evangeline,” Dr. Sullivan called. “Raphe’s waiting.”

“I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow,” Evangeline promised. She kissed her mom’s forehead and walked to the door.

“You look beautiful, honey. My beautiful daughter.”

Evangeline whirled around. Her mom was definitely still sleeping, but there was the trace of a smile on her lips. It was something. There was always hope.

Conjuring a story is never done alone. This book was created with the help of my readers: Henry Fischer, Emily Whitfield, Abby Dennis, Ashley Anderson, Colleen Jones, Karen Ford, Kristie Mitchell, Kristin O’Neill, Dan Moretti, Sue Bishop, Jack Bishop, Jax Botterill, Ellen Havdala, and Jane & Art Richardson. All of your comments were helpful and your time was greatly appreciated.

There were two professional editors who helped me along the way. Alix Reid, your focus on story was a perfect match for
Pandora’s Key
. Emma Dryden, editor extraordinaire, you helped me take
Pandora’s Key
to the next level. I’m so lucky to have you on my team! You rock!!

Many thanks to Amy and Rob Siders at
52 Novels
for their hard work on my behalf. And kudos to cover artist Claudia McKinney at
Phatpuppy Art
for her incredible cover.

Most of all, this book couldn’t have been written without the support of my husband, Henry, who believes in me. H, I love you the whole world round and back again!

Nancy Richardson Fischer lives in Oregon with her husband, Henry, and their Vizsla, Boone. When she’s not conjuring a story, she’s kite-boarding, biking, skiing and planning adventures with her family.

Visit:
NancyRichardsonFischer.com
to learn about other books published by this author, and to read the first chapter in
The Key to Tartarus
, The Key Trilogy – Book Two.

Feel No Fear: The Power, Passion and Politics of a Life in Gymnastics, with Bela Karolyi

Riding For My Life, with Julie Krone

Monica: From Fear to Victory, with Monica Seles

Winning Every Day, with Shannon Miller

A Journey: The Autobiography of Apolo Anton Ohno, with Apolo Anton Ohno

Nadia Comaneci: Letters to a Young Gymnast, with Nadia Comaneci

The Golden Globe (Star Wars Junior Jedi Knights)

Lyric’s World (Star Wars Junior Jedi Knights)

Promises (Star wars Junior Jedi Knights)

Coming Soon From

Before the Greek Gods of Mount Olympus there were the Titans, a race of powerful deities that ruled the cosmos. Cronus, the Titans’ king, was warned by a soothsayer that one of his children would someday overthrow him. So he swallowed each of his first five children right after they were born. Cronus’ wife, distraught at the loss of her babies, devised a plan to save her sixth child. When her son Zeus was born, she wrapped a stone in baby blankets and presented it to her husband. Oblivious to his wife’s trickery, Cronus didn’t check inside the blanket and swallowed the stone instead of his son.

Zeus was hidden from Cronus until he was strong enough to overthrow his father’s rule. Conspiring with his mother, he dressed as a servant and gave his father a poison elixir that caused him to vomit out his five children—including Zeus’ brothers, Poseidon and Hades. The siblings joined together to overthrow Cronus and the Titans in a bloody, ten-year war. Once victorious, Zeus and his brothers imprisoned Cronus and the rest of the Titans in Tartarus—a terrible dungeon deep beneath the underworld from which there was no escape.

Following the war, Zeus, Poseidon and Hades divided up rule of the cosmos. Because Zeus had saved his siblings’ lives, he was given first choice and chose to be named King of the Greek Gods. Armed with powerful lightning bolts he ruled over the sky from Mount Olympus. Poseidon was given rule of the sea armed with a magical trident he could use to create calm waters or strike when angered to cause earthquakes and massive tidal waves. Hades was left to oversee the Underworld, rich with gold, silver and precious stones but also a dark realm of despair created to house the souls of the dead.

None of the brothers ever imagined that mankind might evolve and no longer believe or pray to the Greek Gods, instead trusting in their own abilities to control the universe. And most certainly they could never have imagined that when men discarded their beliefs it would cause some Gods’ powers to wane and eventually all but fade from the universe.

But a forgotten God is a vengeful God; such a God will commit heinous crimes to regain their power and display their wrath.