Page 94 of The Curse of Indy Moore
“That’s asking a lot.”
He gave my favorite crooked smile that made his eyes a shade brighter. “I’m relieved to know you’re in a good enough mood to tease me. That’s a good sign, Miss Moore.”
His hand fell on his stomach that shrieked with reckless abandon.
“Sit, and eat,” Otis ordered from across the island, where he sat a full plate of breakfast and slid it across.
Mr. Hawthorne dropped beside me. Though he ate properly, I saw the desire in his eyes to stuff his mouth full. Slate fluttered by the open kitchen window. Normally he’d be in here stealing our food, but perhaps even he sensed that interrupting Mr. Hawthorne now would end terribly.
Clutching the pendant, I asked, “What am I to do with this?”
“Today, you must think of all the reasons you wish to live your life, all the so-called greedy reasons, especially.” He pointed a fork toward me in warning. “All those thoughts will channel into the pendant and should give you enough focus to maintain yourself for twenty minutes, give or take a few. I know it isn’t much, but that’s all I could manage with the allotted time.”
And if it doesn’t work,I was tempted to ask, and no doubt the others were, too. However, none offered even a moment of pessimism. They likely discussed what would happen afterward if our plan went awry. I didn’t want to hear it because my thoughts were already haunting enough.
I had been fearing this night since Professor Kumir told us I had until the full moon. Now that it was here, it hadn’t sunk in the way I expected. I woke up the same as I always had—well, fifteen minutes earlier than usual. I came to the kitchen, where Otis and Professor Kumir cooked breakfast. We sat down to eat without talking about Carline, the curse, the full moon, none of it. Mr. Hawthorne coming in with the pendant was the first acknowledgement that tonight would be the end, in one way or the other.
That was the first time I held the pendant and thought,tonight won’t be the end. Tonight will be the beginning of something new, something better.
“I should head home today. I want to talk to my family, and I have things to say,” I announced.
Things that should have been said long ago, but it took getting cursed to face those truths. They were right that I would do most of the work, and that work started with being honest.
“Do we have time to get there?” I asked, realizing how far Ivory House could have traveled by now.
“Of course. We’ve been heading back for days now. We’ll leave immediately.” Mr. Hawthorne stood.
I grabbed his arm, surprised by how that so easily stopped him. “Finish your breakfast first. You’ll get crabby otherwise.”
“Crabby?” he echoed, returning to his seat. My hand lingered, and he made no move to push me away. “I do not get crabby. I am a professional, and sometimes professionals must miss a meal or two. I am perfectly capable of controlling my emot—”
I took his plate, and his left eye twitched uncontrollably.
“Shall I finish your breakfast for you?” I raised my fork to do so.
His smile was so painful it made my own cheeks ache.
“Let’s not be drastic,” he said, grabbing the plate that I released. He used an arm to guard the meal and the other to carefully get more on his shaking fork. When I stood, he leaned back, making the table laugh.
“I’ll be in my room when you’re done,” I said, finding it rather funny how I so easily referred to the place as mine now. It was my room, and as I held the pendant, I told myself that I wanted the room to remain mine for the foreseeable future.
Leaving the kitchen, I went upstairs, where Miss Beamy slept on the bed. She purred when I scratched under her chin.
“How are you feeling today?” she asked, yawning and stretching.
“Better than I thought,” I admitted from the desk, where a couple of letters sat unopened, from my family and Baxter.
The letters arrived yesterday. I didn’t have the heart to read them. I considered writing to them because I feared seeing my aunt before tonight would worsen me. Now, I knew that I needed to see her. I needed to see all of them and do what Mr. Hawthorne said.
All the reasons I wanted to live, especially the greedy ones.
I pulled out a piece of paper and wrote two quick letters to inform my aunt and Baxter that I’d be visiting today. Then I got out another and tapped my quill on the page over and over until the ink bled. Crumbling the paper, I tossed it and brought out another and another until a hand fell on the desk.
“You’re getting nowhere,” Mr. Hawthorne said, wearing the cloak he wore that time he brought me back to Westshire. “Who are you writing to?”
My shoulder brushed against his chest. When I looked up, his face was right there, a mere breath away, and my mind raced, wondering what he’d do if I moved up just a little. I looked away before I did something stupid.
“Myself, I suppose. You said to think of all the reasons I wanted to live,” I answered.
