“You’re early,” I said. “Malcolm’s still upstairs. Would you like to come into the living room?”
Madeleine nodded. If she took my words as criticism, she didn’t show it. We sat in the living room in silence. I stared at the fireplace, dark and cold in the middle of summer, and thought again how weird it must feel for Madeleine to be back here. It occurred to me that maybe her never coming over was partly her decision. Maybe it was painful, seeing this place and remembering that when she’d lived here, her husband had been alive.
“This is a lovely room,” Madeleine said, startling me out of my reverie. “You have made this place your own.”
“Thanks.” I couldn’t resist. “Is it weird, being back here?”
“Yes. Though it has been remodeled enough that the similarities are less.” Madeleine looked out the back wall of floor to ceiling glass windows to where the setting sun cast long, golden rays over the lawn. “But the yard is the same. I remember Malcolm and Ewan chasing one another, around and around until they fell down dizzy. And Alastair, running after them.”
I had never heard her say her husband’s name before. She hadn’t sounded sad, or regretful, but her voice hadn’t sounded dead either. Wistful, maybe? “I really regret never meeting him,” I said quietly, letting my words reach out to her like an offering to a wounded animal that might turn and bite.
“He was the best of men,” Madeleine said. “Malcolm, he looks so like his father. I hated him for years for that.”
That stunned me into silence. Not that she would admit to hating her own son, but that for a moment, I saw the world through Madeleine’s eyes. How must it have been, to lose the man you loved above all others, and to be reminded of him every day by someone who could never take his place? I couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t sound fatuous. So I said nothing, and waited for Madeleine to speak again. Finally, she said, “You think I am evil, I know.”
“I don’t think that.” Much.
Madeleine chuckled. “Mais oui, you will not say because you are not hard. You do not speak the hard truths. It is not a bad thing, but it is not the way I am. I admit I do not like you because I wish better things for Malcolm.”
And just like that, any sympathy I had for her evaporated. “Okay, now I’m thinking it,” I said angrily.
To my surprise, Madeleine laughed. “I speak wrong. I mean to say, I did not like you when you came into Malcolm’s life. I thought Malcolm rejected Andria and chose you simply to spite me. But it is not true. I see that he loves you, and that you love him. And I cannot make him live his life to suit me. That is how I lose him, and in losing him, I lose his father all over again.”
She’d stunned me again. As I groped for words, Malcolm came into the living room, dressed in his fatigues and fully armed. “Mother,” he said. “What did you two find to talk about?”
“Things,” Madeleine said before I could respond. “This room, which is lovely. Are you ready? The wardstone is where I remember it?”
“In the shed in the backyard,” Malcolm said. He drew me into his arms and kissed me. “I love you,” he murmured. “I’ll be back soon.”
“I love you,” I said, laying my head briefly on his shoulder. This never got any easier. “Take care.”
“I always do.” He released me and nodded to his mother.
“We will return,” Madeleine said. “Bonne nuit, Helena.”
I followed them to the sliding door that let out on the patio, then watched from the living room as they crossed to the little shed that looked like it ought to hold a lawnmower, but actually contained a stone warded weakly enough to be used for ward-stepping. As the shed door closed, I slid the patio door shut and walked like a sleepwalker through the house until I reached my bedroom. I sat on my bed, buried my face in my hands, and prayed silently for their safety, for the safety of all the Wardens. Maybe I should talk to a priest, or a minister, someone who could explain how to pray properly, but I didn’t feel drawn toward any of the religious faiths I knew about and didn’t know if I wanted my formless beliefs shaped in any particular way. So I prayed the way that felt right to me and hoped God didn’t mind.
When I finished, I looked around the room and thought about what I could do to keep from going crazy with waiting. I didn’t think I could focus on studying my augury, and I felt too restless to read. My eye fell on my phone, and I flicked through the contacts. I could call Viv and Judy, but the last time we’d all waited here together for news of a battle, it had ended with four people on my doorstep telling me my husband was dead. I was just superstitious enough not to want that to happen again.
My finger hesitated over a name, then pressed Call. After a few rings, Harry Keller picked up. “Helena? Did Malcolm go to Kalgoorlie?”
“He did, just a few minutes ago. I don’t suppose Harriet is in contact with the fighters there?”
“She’s not. She went to the Gunther Node to help analyze the Pattern. I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay. I’m just looking for something to do.”
“I hear Abernathy’s will be closed for a few days. That leaves you at loose ends, eh?”
“It was relaxing today. I’m sure I’ll get bored before long.”
Harry laughed. “You have the strongest work ethic of anyone I know, and I include Lucia in that category. Read a book. You handle them all day long, you ought to dip into one now and again.”
I thought of Old Tin Sorrows and how much I was enjoying that. Maybe, if I could focus on that, it would calm me down. “You’re right. I’ll talk to you later. Thanks.”
I read a chapter or two, then set the book aside and stretched. Maybe a movie would keep my attention better. I hadn’t seen Twelve Angry Men in a while. I trotted down the stairs and turned on the television.
“—assures us there’s no need to fear, but I ask you, what kind of virus kills a single town and then stops?” a strident female voice said. I looked up from the DVD cabinet at the TV to see a woman I vaguely recognized as some kind of news commentator addressing an unseen person to her right.
Just then, the camera switched to that person, a blond man in suit and tie who looked like a Ken doll, down to the shellacked hair. “There have been no more ‘attacks,’ as you irresponsibly call them, since the Barga incident,” he said, as hotly as she had spoken. “The government acted quickly and decisively to contain the outbreaks. And if they were attacks, there’s no pattern to them! A town in Georgia and a town in Tuscany that have nothing in common—”
“Both were about the same size. Both were relatively isolated. Exactly what you’d expect for a trial run of a new bioweapon. And several terrorist organizations have claimed responsibility. Let’s be honest, Bruce, this is the face of terrorism in the 21st century.”
“If it is, you’re doing their job for them, Marie. People are already afraid, and your fearmongering in the absence of evidence is just going to cause more panic!”
I shook myself out of my stupor and found the remote, changing the input from the satellite box to the DVD player. That had been stupid. If Bruce was so worried about causing panic, why was he giving airtime to Marie? Or maybe I was wrong, and he was the guest on Marie’s show. I didn’t watch the news often.