Would they be strong enough for Gwen and Mab to make peace? I hoped so, yet Gwen hadn’t looked at Mab once since we’d arrived. Even while handing Mab that still-undrunk cup of coffee, she’d turned her head away. Now, Mab gazed sadly at Gwen, as though remembering the girl she used to be before things went wrong between them. Several lifetimes ago, long before her current incarnation, Mab had lost a sister, and she’d carried the pain of that loss ever since. Losing Gwen must have hurt nearly as much.
Dad was wrapping up his story. Justin, who’d lost interest, was pushing his choo-choo around the floor, making whispered train sounds.
“And so I hung around the neighborhood for the past few weeks, watching you all and getting my nerve up to speak to Anne. Although I’ve almost gotten used to this body now, I realize it’s a shock to hear my voice coming out of this beak. I was . . . well, I was afraid it might be too freaky. That you wouldn’t want me around.”
“It is freaky, darling.” Mom scratched his head, and he wriggled with pleasure. “But we definitely want you around.” She looked pointedly at Gwen. “After all, we’re Cerddorion. We’ve always known that the person is more important than the form.”
Beside me, Maria gasped and sat up straighter, as though Mom’s words had turned on a lightbulb in her head.
“Dad,” Gwen said, making the word sound almost like a question, like she was still getting used to it. “Of course you’re welcome here. But we’ll have to set some ground rules.”
“Sure, Gwennie. I don’t want to cause problems with your neighbors.”
“It’s more than that, Dad. If the authorities find out, they’ll force you to live in Deadtown.”
“Hey!” I objected. Gwen made living in Deadtown sound like being shut up in some pitch-black, airless dungeon. We had our problems, but there were worse places to live. Personally, I wouldn’t last two weeks in the suburbs.
Dad chuckled. “I’d like to see them try. I’ve seen the checkpoints, but those are street level.” He stretched out his wings. “They don’t control the airspace.”
“Be that as it may, here are the rules. One, when you’re outside, you act like a real bird. No talking. No . . . I don’t know . . . no playing Frisbee or whatever. Two, try not to spend too much time here. At this address, I mean. People in the neighborhood have noticed you, and some have talked about bringing in a wildlife relocation expert. A falcon is a predator, and it makes folks nervous. Mrs. Baumann, three houses down, is terrified you’re going to snatch her Chihuahua.”
“Okay,” Dad laughed. “Keep a low profile and no snatching the Chihuahua. No problem.”
“I’m serious, Dad. I’ve worked hard to build a life here, to be accepted and fit in.”
“And you think I’ll mess that up.”
Gwen’s hands twisted in her lap.
“Perhaps I ought to look for my own place,” said Mom. “Now that I’ve found Evan I’m not going to lose him again. I don’t care what shape he’s taken on.”
“No, Mom, don’t. I’m sorry. But, you know, it is a shock. I’m just trying to figure out how to adjust.” Gwen pressed both hands over her eyes, as though dealing with a headache. But when she looked at Dad, her eyes were clear. “Dad, I’m happy you’re back. I’m eager to get to know you again. I’m thrilled the kids will have their grandfather. But I need a little time to wrap my mind around the fact that their grandfather is a bird. Yes, my heritage is Cerddorion. But I’ve spent most of my life trying to be normal. This is not normal, not even for our kind. Please be patient while I figure out how to make room for it in my life.”
Wow. That was quite a speech, coming from Gwen. For so many years, she’d wanted nothing to do with being Cerddorion. She’d tolerated me because I was her sister and because she knew I wouldn’t embarrass her by suddenly shifting into a donkey or something at a cocktail party. She’d wanted so badly for her daughter to grow up human, to be what Gwen considered a “normal” girl. Maybe being forced to accept that Maria was a shapeshifter was making Gwen reconsider her own relationship to our kind. She wasn’t exactly embracing her heritage, but her willingness to make some room for it was a big step.
No one said anything, leaving Gwen’s words to hang in the air like smoke. Even Justin quit choo-chooing and looked up. It struck me for the first time how out of place my sister must feel in our family. How strange it must be to step away from the people you grew up with, and then turn around to watch them, your nose pressed against an unbreakable window of your own making.
Gwen’s face reddened as the silence stretched out.
Mab’s cup clattered as she set it on the table in front of her. “I must say, Gwendolyn, you have a very lovely home.”
Gwen blinked, and for the first time in an hour looked directly at Mab. “And I must say that I never expected to see you in it.” They stared at each other across the coffee table.
“Nor did I expect to be here.” Mab’s voice stayed calm and level. “Thank you for inviting me.”
Gwen barked a bitter laugh. “Why are you here, Mab? In Boston, I mean. No one told me you were coming.” Gwen sounded a little hurt at the exclusion, and I remember how she told me, after Mab’s last visit, that she’d almost attended the bon voyage party.
“I’m here to support Victory. She’s preparing to face some challenges, and I’ve come to back her up.”
“You? Playing backup?” Another sharp laugh. “I thought you always had to be front and center.”
“Did you?” Mab’s question, which sounded genuine, showed no sign she’d taken offense.
“You know, I’ve accepted that I was wrong about—” Gwen cut herself off as she glanced at her kids. “About what happened all those years ago. But that doesn’t mean I like you. And it doesn’t mean I want Maria to—” Again she stopped and looked around. Her mouth opened and closed as though she couldn’t get the words out with so many people present.
I stood up. “I think Gwen and Mab could use a little time alone. Let’s go outside, kids.” Zack jumped up and ran into the kitchen, toward the back door. Justin toddled after him. Maria looked like she was going to protest, but when she saw my expression she unfolded her long legs and got up.
“Good idea,” said Mom. “Evan, I’ll close the garage door, and you can follow me out. The neighbors would have to peer in the windows to see us.”
“Well, then it would serve them right,” Gwen said, with a strained smile. She was trying, but everything about her—her face, her posture, her voice—was tight, ready to snap. I hoped I wasn’t making a mistake, leaving her alone with Mab. But it had to be better than hashing out their differences in front of an audience.
“Would you like some tea?” Gwen’s voice asked as I went through the kitchen. Yes, Gwen was tense, and maybe tying on her hostess apron was a way to avoid talking. But, on the other hand, maybe it was a start.
I’D EXPECTED A BARRAGE OF QUESTIONS FROM MARIA, BUT she held back whatever may have been bubbling up inside her. As I closed the kitchen door behind me, she’d already organized a game of Wiffle ball. Maria pitched, Zack swung an oversized plastic bat, and, whether Zack hit or missed, Justin scurried after the ball. He’d pick it up, run over to a spot about two feet from Maria, lift his arm as high as he could reach, and then hurl the ball at her feet.
As I sat on Gwen’s deck watching the kids play, I wondered what was going on in the living room. I wasn’t entirely sure that my impulse to clear everyone out had been a good one, but neither Mab nor Gwen had objected. That had to mean they wanted to talk, right? As Maria clapped and shouted, “Good one, Zack,” I strained my hearing toward the house. No yelling. Even though we were in the backyard and the living room faces the front, the windows were open, so if they were tearing each other apart in there I was bound to hear something.
I kept checking my watch as the minutes shuffled by in a slow parade. After twenty minutes that felt like two hours, the kitchen door opened. Mab stepped out, turning her head back inside and saying, “Yes, I’ll be sure to tell her.” She shut the door behind her and stood blinking in the bright sunlight. Her face gave nothing away.
The yard behind me was silent. Their game halted, all three kids stood staring. “It was nice meeting you, children!” Mab called, waving. She took my arm and propelled me toward the garage. “We must go now.”
“Mab, what happened?”
“Patience, child. Let’s be off first.”
“I should say good-bye to Gwen.”
“There’s no need. She said she’ll telephone you.” Pushing open the garage’s back door, she called, “Anne? Evan? We’re on our way. I shall see both of you again soon.”
“Bye, Mom. Bye, Dad,” I shouted past her. I turned around and waved. “Bye, kids!”
Maria, already heading toward the house with a determined set to her jaw, threw up her arm in a wave without breaking her stride. I hoped Gwen was ready for the interrogation she was about to face.
By the time I’d backed out of the driveway and driven as far as Gwen’s next-door neighbor, I couldn’t stand the suspense any longer. “Come on, Mab, tell me. How did it go?”
Mab’s head lay still against the headrest. Her eyes were closed, her lips pressed tightly together in a thin line. Her skin was papery white. She looked like she’d just emerged from a battlefield, rather than my sister’s suburban living room. Then again, not all battles are fought on a field.
“Fine, child.” Her eyes remained closed, and her hand went to the bloodstone pendant, pulling it from her shirt and closing her fingers around it. “Emotionally draining—for both of us, I think. Your sister and I have quite a long journey ahead if we’re ever to reach common ground. But we’ve taken our first steps. The fact that Gwen was willing to set foot on that road at all is enormously encouraging to me.”