CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

A Place to Ponder

Pascale wanted to be alone.

She wanted to be alone because it was her sixteenth day on TeJÉ.

Mrs. Wintercreek had mentioned it that morning, as though Pascale may not have been keeping track.

“My, but the time is passing quickly. Can you believe it’s sixteen days since you came to stay with me? And I’ve enjoyed every one of them!”

Pascale had managed to answer even though she felt as if there were a thousand jitterbugs stomping wildly in her tummy.

“You’ve been so kind, and made me feel so welcome,” she said.

And she meant it, but at that moment a very different thought was shouting in her head.

Tomorrow could be my last day here.

That thought was with her, repeating itself all through the day. Late that afternoon, while walking along a stretch of beach that was narrow and covered with sharp rocks (the perfect place for anyone seeking solitude), she spoke the words aloud.

“Tomorrow could be my last day here.”

Except, her heart was sinking even as she said it, for she understood, according to the words of the Legend Keeper, that would only be true if she was the Long Awaited.

Pascale had allowed herself to wonder about this many times since finding herself on this island. Now and then she had held very still as though there might be something mystical lurking within her, waiting to make itself known, something she could detect if only she paid very close attention. Something that would let her believe she was the one they had been waiting for all these years.

Because if she was, then there was hope that she was going home.

And if she, the girl known as Pascale, truly was the Long Awaited, she would have an important message to deliver to the people of TeJÉ. She imagined herself standing before them, offering words that were wiser than anything ever spoken by the Village Elders, making proclamations that would seal their fate.

Pascale stopped now and then, as she had done already more than once in the past few days, waiting for the words to rise up in her, to form themselves in preparation for the message she might deliver.

But the words never came. Nor was there any other sign or feeling or sudden understanding that gave her reason to believe she was the one TeJÉ had been awaiting for so many years.

“All I feel like is myself. A girl called Pascale Chardon,” she was forced to admit each time.

There was no escaping the thought that, if she was not the Long Awaited, she may be there for the rest of her life.

“This is not a bad place,” she tried to tell herself. And that was true. What if she had found herself in hostile circumstances, or in a place with no other human inhabitants? It could be so much worse, and she did her best to be thankful that it was this island and these people she had happened upon.

Ah, but this did nothing to stop her from longing for her home and family. Her heart cried out to be there and the pain only grew when she thought of how her parents must be suffering. What if they never knew what happened to their own dear girl?

These thoughts were especially strong on this, her sixteenth day on TeJÉ, and that was why she sought out a place to be alone. Pascale felt she could not bear to talk to anyone just then. She was sure she would cry out, or weep, or fall to the ground and cover her ears if she was forced to take part in idle conversation.

So much had happened! She could hardly believe that only sixteen days had passed since the little boat carrying her and Inch had brought them to these shores.

Pascale thought about Karuna and Ling Cloudwater, about Kenta and Irina Morningbay, and all that their two families had been through in the past days. She thought about Mrs. Wintercreek and the Elders; Zarel Duckpuddle, the ineffective Healer; earnest little Oralee Oceansong; and the Lookout, Xander Thunderwave. Of all the people she had encountered on TeJÉ, those were the ones who had made the strongest impression on her heart.

If I should get to leave tomorrow, I will always remember them, she thought as she picked her way carefully along, stepping gingerly among the jagged rocks.

After a while, Pascale reached a grassy bank where she paused to sit. She looked out over the water, watching the waves lap the shore. The warm sun and beautiful rhythm of the water lulled her. Before long she became drowsy.

Opening her eyes later, it took several moments before she remembered where she was. As she stood and stretched, she wondered how long she had been asleep.

A smile came to her face as she realized she had not woken entirely on her own. Inch was running along her arm, tickling her. When he reached her shoulder, he stopped and stood upright, waving several arms in the air.

“What is it? Are you hungry?” she said. If that was the meaning of his frantic signaling, he wasn’t alone. It had been some hours since she had eaten anything and she felt her tummy grumble.

“Let’s go then,” she told him.

It was nice, the way food was so plentiful on the island. Everywhere you went there were fruits and nuts and berries. She found a path leading back toward the village and before long came upon a tree drooping with lovely, ripe plums. Pascale tugged one from its stem, peeled it, and took a bite. The flesh was sweet and juicy, and she broke off a tiny piece for Inch. She held it in the palm of her hand and watched as he raced there.

“Do you think I shall ever go home, Inch?” she asked softly, but Inch had begun to eat and seemed disinclined toward conversation just then.

Later, not quite ready to return to the village, Pascale turned off on another path and found herself nearing a different stretch of shore. At first she thought the beach was deserted, but after a moment she saw movement in the distance. She walked on, drawing nearer. When she was close enough, she paused, shielded her eyes, and squinted.

“Irina and Gabor!” she said softly. “What on earth are they doing?”

It was not at all uncommon to see villagers out strolling near the water, and yet Pascale’s question was not without cause. She could not say exactly what it was that captured her attention, but the couple’s movements struck her as unusual. Even in the dimming light there seemed to be something surreptitious in their manner.