Read Online The Night Garden by Lisa van Allen - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lisa van Allen
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that.”
“Do you need to get away?”
Mei glanced at her. Her eyes were dark and shiny. Her features were small, her skin a creamy olive, her lips a natural plum. All the toughness and bravado she’d shown earlier in the day when she’d been locked in the peacock pen was gone now, making her appear small and fragile and much younger than her age.
“It’s okay,” Olivia said. “You don’t have to tell me unless you want to. I’m here to listen, whenever you need. But the maze … you’ve just got to give it time.”
“How much time?”
“I can’t say. But you’re welcome to stay here as long as you want to, Mei. For however long it takes until you’re ready to decide what you want to do.”
Mei looked at her feet. “Thanks.”
Olivia could feel the garden at her back, calling to her. She did her best to ignore it. “Why don’t you go into the barn for the night? Don’t worry—the others are very nice. A little rough around the edges sometimes, but they’ll set you up with something to eat and a place to sleep. And they won’t ask any questions.”
Mei stood. She was looking at Olivia now, speculation in her eye. “You actually seem pretty nice.”
“Is that not what you expected?”
“I don’t know. I guess—I guess I didn’t expect you to actually seem nice.”
Olivia couldn’t hide a small frown. She knew people talked about her. A lot. But she didn’t think her character had ever been in question.
Mei rubbed her eyes. “You know what? I’m sorry. I think you’re right. I need to stop walking. I need to get off my feet.”
“Can you find your way out to the barn?”
“Well, I guess if I could find my way into this mess, I can find my way out of it, too.”
Olivia smiled. “I don’t think you’ll end up waiting for your answer for too long.”
“Thanks,” Mei said.
When the girl was gone, Olivia let herself back into the poison garden. She had a sense, sometimes, that it had its own awareness of her, an expectation, so that when she opened the door and closed it behind her, the garden seemed to sigh, Ah! There you are!
She picked the leaf of a stinging nettle and felt its furry skin against her skin. Normally she could keep her desire for a different kind of life at bay; but the world was conspiring against her tonight. There was Sam, with his hesitant smile and all of his unbearable, unanswerable questions. There was Mei, her difficulty as obvious as her belly, her solution, not. There were all the people of Green Valley, everyone she had to keep away.
In ancient stories, Daphne was turned into a laurel tree to escape Apollo, and Olivia wished sometimes that the gods would do the same thing to her, turn her into a quiet stand of nightshade, or a stalk of meadow deathcamas, or even a toxic pink laurel—and let her live out her days as plants did, simply being without questioning, without the unceasing self-flagellation that comes with the human condition, the why me? and why this? and what now?
But, human she was, and so she couldn’t shake her human loneliness, or the feeling of her heart being squeezed inside her chest for some reason she didn’t want to think about. She took in a deep breath of wet air. The valley was silent; even the night creatures were still. Pink bundles of oleander, gorgeous and bitterly toxic, clustered softly. She was safe here: She had to remind herself of that. No one could see her; no one could touch her; she didn’t need a thing but what she had. She checked to be sure that the door was locked. Then she slid out of her clothes, lowered herself into the bower of her belladonna, and dozed contentedly among her poisonous plants.
Touch Wood
When the Woodstock music festival charged like gangbusters to the vicinity of Green Valley in 1969, many things changed, but no individual person had changed more than Arthur Pennywort. All these many years later, there were still folks in Bethel who could talk about the Arthur everyone knew
“Do you need to get away?”
Mei glanced at her. Her eyes were dark and shiny. Her features were small, her skin a creamy olive, her lips a natural plum. All the toughness and bravado she’d shown earlier in the day when she’d been locked in the peacock pen was gone now, making her appear small and fragile and much younger than her age.
“It’s okay,” Olivia said. “You don’t have to tell me unless you want to. I’m here to listen, whenever you need. But the maze … you’ve just got to give it time.”
“How much time?”
“I can’t say. But you’re welcome to stay here as long as you want to, Mei. For however long it takes until you’re ready to decide what you want to do.”
Mei looked at her feet. “Thanks.”
Olivia could feel the garden at her back, calling to her. She did her best to ignore it. “Why don’t you go into the barn for the night? Don’t worry—the others are very nice. A little rough around the edges sometimes, but they’ll set you up with something to eat and a place to sleep. And they won’t ask any questions.”
Mei stood. She was looking at Olivia now, speculation in her eye. “You actually seem pretty nice.”
“Is that not what you expected?”
“I don’t know. I guess—I guess I didn’t expect you to actually seem nice.”
Olivia couldn’t hide a small frown. She knew people talked about her. A lot. But she didn’t think her character had ever been in question.
Mei rubbed her eyes. “You know what? I’m sorry. I think you’re right. I need to stop walking. I need to get off my feet.”
“Can you find your way out to the barn?”
“Well, I guess if I could find my way into this mess, I can find my way out of it, too.”
Olivia smiled. “I don’t think you’ll end up waiting for your answer for too long.”
“Thanks,” Mei said.
When the girl was gone, Olivia let herself back into the poison garden. She had a sense, sometimes, that it had its own awareness of her, an expectation, so that when she opened the door and closed it behind her, the garden seemed to sigh, Ah! There you are!
She picked the leaf of a stinging nettle and felt its furry skin against her skin. Normally she could keep her desire for a different kind of life at bay; but the world was conspiring against her tonight. There was Sam, with his hesitant smile and all of his unbearable, unanswerable questions. There was Mei, her difficulty as obvious as her belly, her solution, not. There were all the people of Green Valley, everyone she had to keep away.
In ancient stories, Daphne was turned into a laurel tree to escape Apollo, and Olivia wished sometimes that the gods would do the same thing to her, turn her into a quiet stand of nightshade, or a stalk of meadow deathcamas, or even a toxic pink laurel—and let her live out her days as plants did, simply being without questioning, without the unceasing self-flagellation that comes with the human condition, the why me? and why this? and what now?
But, human she was, and so she couldn’t shake her human loneliness, or the feeling of her heart being squeezed inside her chest for some reason she didn’t want to think about. She took in a deep breath of wet air. The valley was silent; even the night creatures were still. Pink bundles of oleander, gorgeous and bitterly toxic, clustered softly. She was safe here: She had to remind herself of that. No one could see her; no one could touch her; she didn’t need a thing but what she had. She checked to be sure that the door was locked. Then she slid out of her clothes, lowered herself into the bower of her belladonna, and dozed contentedly among her poisonous plants.
Touch Wood
When the Woodstock music festival charged like gangbusters to the vicinity of Green Valley in 1969, many things changed, but no individual person had changed more than Arthur Pennywort. All these many years later, there were still folks in Bethel who could talk about the Arthur everyone knew
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