Page 82 of The Quiet
She’d managed to avoid him, wondering what the cost of her deal with him would ultimately be. She was unable to take Amnesia. She’d underestimated what Amnesia would cost her when she initially struck a deal with Lambspeak, and so she’dsurrendered her fail-safe. After all that she now remembered about her past, it felt like dying to give it up again.
She wondered if Lambspeak might find other ways of carving out her fears, these fears that she no longer seemed to feel so much anyway. In his own way, Jackson had helped carve them out already. She wished that Lambspeak’s request had only ever been metaphorical, that maybe he’d anticipated things ending how they had, with her conquering her fears regardless. She couldn’t know for sure.
“You say that, Ella,” Jackson whispered back to her. “But even now, you’re drifting off again. What is it?”
Ella smiled softly and then looked out at the streets again that filled her world like a dream. A week ago, she’d never imagined leaving it, and two weeks before that, she’d talked of living her life out here forever. Once again, her restlessness had returned like an illness. The restlessness since the embolism, not so violent any longer, but a quiet chirping in the back of her head. She hadn’t realized until this morning what it had really meant and ever since, each moment had been precious.
“I still don’t remember what happened to Peter,” she said.
She had consulted with Samual about it, and even he had little advice to offer before diving back into The Ocean himself.
Jackson knew this, and so he added nothing to the subject until she spoke again. The only difference now was that she revealed in such a simple statement that it was starting to bother her again.
“When the embolism happened, whatever memory Peter pulled me into…it still feels like…well, it still feels like some part of me never left. Ever since then, I feel like I’ve been chasing that piece of myself down. And Kay,” she paused, glancing back at him to see how the depth of his expression had traced the direction of her thoughts. “I can’t stop thinking about Kay and Jade and everyone else.”
“Ella,” Jackson said, obviously pained by what she prepared to say.
“I’ve learned enough about diving, and I’ve spoken with Samual about it extensively. I can do it,” Ella reasoned.
“And what if you get lost and don’t come back? What if you sink right back into the illusion?” he said. By now, he knew her stubborn nature and clasped her hand as he exhaled deeply.
Ella swallowed but said nothing. They waited there in the silence, and behind her words, she hid another reason for her reservations. It was one she wasn’t sure if she could ever share.
Jackson saw her as a grounding force that helped keep Lambspeak, and whatever eventually caused him, at bay. The more Ella recalled about the Strike, the more she feared the opposite was true.
There were so many unknowns about her relationship with Lambspeak as well as Jackson. They’d grown very close in the past several months. It seemed everyone in The Quiet had noticed a quick and strong bond like a hand of fate between them.
Of all of the unknowns in her life, Jackson was still one of them, and perhaps the most daunting of them all.
“I’ll make it back,” she said, but couldn’t promise what the future had in store.
CHAPTER 23
THE YELLOW GATES
ELLA EMBRACED KAY and Jade before continuing on her route.
“Dinner!” Kay reminded her, Jade poking her head out from the house as Ella jogged into the street.
“I know!” Ella called.
Jade waved the newly delivered parchment as Ella turned back to her route and wrestled the strap of her parchment bag over her shoulder. She made a couple of additional deliveries through the capital, stopping to purchase a few loaves of bread before deviating from her route and jogging in worn leather boots to a small house on the corner of the East End.
She knocked and waited, bread under one arm with her long leather bag still perching on her other. She wiped a stream of sweat from her forehead, glancing up at the sun as she felt the sweat trickle down the small of her back, likely staining her tan shirt. Tying her hair up had done little to stave off the heat.
The door opened, a beautiful woman filling the doorway with a floured apron and long, red hair.
“Hi Marnie,” Ella said, before offering the bread. “I picked up some loaves for you and Edgar.”
“Oh, Ella, dear,” Marnie clapped her hands, reaching out and embracing Ella before taking the loaves. “Thank you so much.I’m so grateful. You don’t have to do this. I don’t know why you do.”
“Oh, and this,” Ella said, shifting to remove a letter along with a small statue of the Spirit of Courage. “Your mail and a carving of the Spirit of Courage. It was blessed this morning.”
Marnie took both, inspecting the Spirit of Courage with a smile before allowing her eyes to flicker back over to Ella, “I will hold onto it and it will give me courage.” She said playfully, like a small girl who’d just been given a magic wand.
Ella smiled. “I have to go, but Spirit’s Blessings to you and Edgar!” she said, waving before jogging off.
She speedily delivered a few other parchments, stopping on a corner as she noticed a man shouting and preaching to the masses about the danger of the Spirit of Wrath.
