Page 95 of The Pansy Paradox
“Yes.” Henry adjusted his grip on her hand, clutching it tighter. “I believe this man is your father.”
Moments passed that felt like an eternity. Or perhaps it was an eternity that felt like mere moments. Both were true, and somehow not. Now Henry understood why Pansy’s Sight was vast and unfathomable. This was why it was like touching starlight, because it literally was.
“Your father’s a traveler,” Henry said, mostly to see if he could prompt the man across from them to talk.
The man inclined his head. “I am.”
“So you fell through to this side,” Pansy said, her words still soft, still tentative, as if she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing. “And then you left?”
“I did,” the man, who was no doubt Max Monroe, said. “I had to. It was what your mother?—”
“Mom!” Pansy surged forward, her hand slipping from Henry’s. “Is she there? Do you have her?”
Henry lunged, managed to catch Pansy around the waist, and held on, his arms straining with the effort.
“Hang on to her!” Max shouted. “Don’t let her slip through!”
The pull from that unseen force was slow, steady, but inexorable. Henry braced his legs against its power, his feet sliding on loose dirt and pebbles, millimeter by millimeter, edging them closer to the bridge that was both there and wasn’t. If they went through, what then?
“Your mother is here,” Max said. “And yes, I collected her that day.”
“Can I see her?” This time, Pansy’s voice cracked. With her back against his chest, Henry could sense the anguish in her question.
“I’m afraid not, sweetheart.” Max held up his hands as if that could stop their forward momentum. “She misses you, but she’s safe.”
“I don’t understand.” She glanced back at Henry as if he might explain, then looked to her father again.
“I … your mother and I … we’re between dimensions,” Max said. “Not fully in either, although there are opportunities to slip from the stream and into one dimension or the other.”
“Like three months ago, when you came for her.”
“Yes,” Max acknowledged.
“So that’s why you left. To save her.”
Max shook his head. “No, sweetheart, I left to save you.”
The earth rumbled beneath their feet. Henry wondered if the vortex was putting too much pressure on their dimension, if they’d fall through no matter how hard he fought against it. He knew from experience that these portals didn’t last long. He’d watched one in the Sahara swallow up that sandstorm of Screamers while nearly taking him with them.
Sweat soaked his spine. His muscles trembled. He wanted to pull them both back to safety. At the same time, he wanted, needed, to keep listening.
“In all the threads, all the possible futures, one thing was clear,” Max was saying. “If I left and then returned later for your mother, it gave you a fighting chance.”
“A fighting chance?” Pansy shook her head. “To do what?”
“With your mother here, with me, with her still technically alive, her stopgap measure remains in place. A piece of her remains in your world, and you’re stronger because of it. You’re the key to everything.”
Pansy craned her neck to peer at Henry again. She looked as confused and skeptical as he felt. “What does that mean?”
Max ignored her question. Instead, his attention shifted, and he pinned Henry with a glare. “Wait. Don’t tell me. You’re a Darnelle, aren’t you?”
“Henry Darnelle.”
“Harry’s son?”
Henry nodded.
Max swore, the exact words lost somewhere between dimensions, and he rubbed his eyes. “It’s always the son. Listen to me, Darnelle. If she slips through, you’d better come with her.”
