Wither (The Chemical Garden #1) Page 26
Author: Lauren DeStefano

And maybe she was hoping I’d learn to love our husband so I’d learn to endure Vaughn as well.

“Oh, it just destroyed her. She was never the same after that,” Deirdre continues. “She had her own domestic, Lydia. But it was too much for Rose to have a young girl around reminding her of the daughter she would have had. Eventually she convinced House Governor Linden to have her sold off. She couldn’t even look at Elle and me.”

“Does anyone else know about this?” I say.

“No. They all believe the baby was a stillbirth. Or if they don’t, they keep it to themselves. Please don’t tell.”

“No,” I say, handing her a tissue from my nightstand.

“No, this will stay between you and me.”

She dabs at her nose, folds the tissue, and tucks it into her skirt pocket. “I’ve never told that to anyone before.”

Even through the tears, I can see that some of the weight has been lifted from her shoulders. It’s a terrible secret for such a young girl. In this place—no, in this world—it’s impossible for a child to be just that. I put my arm around her, and she grants herself an uncharacteristic moment of weakness and collapses onto my chest, hugging me.

“He always gets the final say. So whatever he asks of you, please, for your own good, listen to him.”

“Okay,” I say. But it’s a lie. If anything, this story has reinforced my need to escape, to be like the river in Linden’s atlas. Because things here are more frightening than even I could ever have imagined. Life is much different from the days when there were lilies in my mother’s garden, and all my secrets fit into a paper cup.

Chapter 15

When Cecily finishes playing her song, and the illusion shrinks back into the keyboard, she stretches her arms up over her head and cracks her knuckles.

“That was beautiful, love,” Linden says. He sits on the couch with his arm around me. Jenna is curled on the armrest, and his other hand absently traces patterns on her thigh.

“We have a little concert pianist,” Jenna agrees, and works one of Linden’s curls around her finger.

“Maybe not a concert pianist,” Cecily says, laying the dustcover over the keys.

“No,” I agree. “A concert hall is too sterile. Didn’t you tell me you wrote that song while you were out in the rose garden?”

“The hedge maze, actually,” Jenna says.

“You’re both wrong,” Cecily says, climbing into Linden’s lap. “I wrote it in the orange grove.”

“You wrote that by yourself ?” Linden says, surprised.

Jenna is still toying with his hair, and his head cants absently toward her.

“Yes. In my head. I remember them for later. Although. . .” Her voice trails off. She looks aside, sighs sadly.

“What is it, love?” Linden says.

“Well. It’s sort of an older song,” Cecily says. “I haven’t been outside in such a long time.”

“None of us have, Cecily,” I say. “It isn’t just you. It’s been so dangerous with the hurricanes. You saw how injured I was. I’m only just now getting back on my feet.”

“But we haven’t had any hurricanes in weeks,” Jenna says. “The weather’s been quite nice. Wouldn’t you agree?” She’s looking at Linden, whose cheeks have become flushed. The adoration of three wives at once is more than he can handle.

“I—I suppose it has.”

“But Housemaster Vaughn is only trying to keep us safe,” I say. “That’s why he escorts us outside.”

“He escorts you everywhere?” Linden asks.

“It does get depressing,” Jenna admits. “We adore our father-in-law, of course. You know that. But sometimes a girl needs some time alone.”

“To channel her creativity,” Cecily says.

“To think,” I add.

“And for girl talk,” Jenna says. “And Rhine and I haven’t been able to play a game of tennis or jump on the trampoline. The virtual games are all right, but we don’t get any exercise at all, really.”

“I wasn’t going to say this,” Cecily says, “but they’re both gaining weight.”

Jenna narrows her eyes. “Look who’s talking.”

Linden is looking a little red in the cheeks already, but when Cecily cups his face, kisses him, and asks if he thinks pregnancy has made her unattractive, it’s just about all he can stand. “Y-you’re beautiful,” he says. “All of you are. But if you think some time outdoors will pick up your spirits, I’ll talk to my father. I had no idea you were feeling so—uh—stifled.”

“Really?” Cecily cries.

“Do you mean it?” I say, cozying up to his side.

“You’re so sweet,” Jenna says, and kisses the top of his head.

He bristles and gently slides Cecily off of him, squeezes himself out from between Jenna and me. “I’ll talk to him as soon as he’s back from the hospital tonight.”

My sister wives and I listen until we hear the elevator doors close behind him. There’s a moment of silence, and then we collapse against one another on the couch, bursting with laughter.

“That was amazing,” Jenna says.

“Even better than we planned,” I say.

“Did I do all right?” Cecily asks.

“Forget music,” Jenna says, ruffling Cecily’s hair. “You should be an actress.”

We hug one another in celebration of our small victory.

And I can’t help enjoying this camaraderie. It’s the closest I’ll ever get to feeling like I’m in a marriage.

The night we’re supposed to attend the expo, Cecily starts having contractions.

“They’re only Braxton Hicks,” Housemaster Vaughn assures her. “It’s not the real thing.”

But she is in real pain. She’s kneeling by the bed, clinging to the mattress, and I can see the terror in her eyes, and I know she isn’t just doing this out of spite.

“We should stay home,” I tell Linden. I’ve been back on my feet for well over a week, which is about how long it took Deirdre to design and sew the beautiful red dress I’m wearing. And after enduring an hour of being buffed and waxed and polished by an overeager group of attendants, I was determined to make tonight worth it. Linden stands beside me in Cecily’s doorway, his mouth in a tight, worried line.

Housemaster Vaughn and Elle are helping Cecily into the bed. “Go on,” Vaughn says. “She’s got another two months yet before the baby comes.”

I don’t trust him. I imagine Cecily being rolled through the basement on a gurney, screaming in agony as the baby is born dead, and Vaughn going to work dissecting it for an antidote. He’s a merciless beast; there’s no humanity in his eyes as he cuts the infant apart.

Cecily whimpers, and Elle dabs her face with a wet cloth. Cecily opens her mouth, and I think she’s trying to form the word “stay,” but Vaughn grabs her hand and says, “Darling, if your husband secures any buyers tonight, that means one of his drawings will become a new house. Or maybe a store. And wouldn’t you like to visit it? Wouldn’t that be nice?”

She hesitates. She and Vaughn have some kind of weird bond I can’t figure out. It’s like she’s his favorite, or she thinks of him as the father she never had. And she’ll do anything he says.

“You should go to the expo,” she says. “I’ll be fine here. This is my job, after all. I’m happy to contribute.”

Strangely, there’s no malice in the way she says it.

“That’s a good girl,” Vaughn says.

I don’t want to leave her alone with him. I don’t. But when will I have another chance to prove to Linden that I’m first wife material, the one who should be on his arm at parties?

While Linden is saying good-bye to Cecily, promising he’ll be back soon, I find Jenna in the library and ask her to keep an eye out. “I don’t trust Housemaster Vaughn with her,” I say.

“Me either,” she says. “They’ve got all kinds of secrets together. I don’t know what he tells her. It makes me nervous.”

“I don’t want him alone with her.”

“No,” she says. “Of course not.” She’s already a step ahead of me. She’s found a chessboard in the sitting room, and she’s going to ask Cecily to teach her how to play.

“Just try to have fun, okay?” Jenna tells me. “Tell freedom I said hello.”

“If I happen to see it, I will,” I say.

Of all things, Linden leads me to the same limousine that brought me here in the first place. He opens the door for me and doesn’t even understand my hesitation.

“Can we open the windows?” I ask.

“It’s snowing,” he says. I’d always thought Florida was a temperate state, but so far it’s proven to be sporadic.

“The cold air is good for our lungs.” I heard this from Vaughn, so it might not be true, but Linden just shrugs.

“If that’s what you want,” he says.

I climb into the back of the limo, and despite the bottle of champagne waiting for us in a bucket of ice, and the heated leather seats, I keep expecting something awful to happen. I open my window right away, and I breathe in the frozen air, and don’t mind when Linden puts his coat around my shoulders. We haven’t started moving yet, and I am still unconvinced this is safe. Knowing Vaughn, he’s probably arranged for me to be knocked out just so I won’t find my way to the gate.

There’s a window in the roof. But it’s tinted dark and I can’t see the night sky beyond it. “Does that one open?” I ask.

Linden laughs and rubs my arms to generate warmth.

“Are you trying to turn yourself into an icicle? Sure the sunroof opens.”

After it opens, I stand, almost losing my balance because we’ve started moving. Linden grabs my waist to keep me from falling, and I don’t mind at all because I’ve got the sunroof open, and I rest my arms on the roof of the car. There’s snow falling into my hair, and it seems to melt as it reaches the light of the limo. I watch the trees pass, the repaired mini-golf course, the orange grove, Jenna’s trampoline. I watch as all these things that have been my entire world for these past months get smaller as the car pulls away. They seem to be saying good-bye to me. Good-bye, enjoy your night. I smile, look ahead to see what’s coming up next.

There’s nothing but trees for a while. I’ve never gone this far before. I didn’t even know there was a road this way. We drive for what feels like eternity. I begin to watch the stars through the trees, and the three-quarter moon that hurries to keep up with me.