Claritsa walked with careful steps that were almost solemn. She kept her gaze ahead of her in order to avoid fallen branches and the ditches that might twist her ankle, but even though her body was present, her mind seemed a million miles away. Maella had never hesitated before to ask what was on Claritsa’s mind, but she now feared she would not be able to bear the answer.
What would Claritsa do once she saw her grandmother again?
On Thrae, Maella had been confident of the answer to that question. But now, here on Earth, Maella wasn’t so sure.
It wasn’t long until they reached the creekside access to Claritsa’s yard. She broke off from the group and strode through the trees toward a yellow painted house with a darkened entrance that had long ago begun to fade and chip.
They had argued with Tain and the others for this moment. Tain wanted the last piece of the relic. All the worlds seem to hang in the balance. But Claritsa was going to visit her grandmother—
And Maella was going to wait for her.
At the last moment, before Claritsa broke from the trees and entered the open space that would otherwise be called a backyard except it looked more like an abandoned lot, Claritsa turned back. Her eyes were wide as they lit upon Maella. “You have to come with me.”
Maella’s stomach twisted. She’d really thought for a second there that Claritsa was going to rush off and never come back. She wasn’t ready to say goodbye yet. Maella broke from the line and followed her friend.
“Should I come too?” Sethlo asked. “Just in case?”
Maella shook her head. “It’s only her grandmother. It’s better if it’s the two of us. She doesn’t know you.”
Sethlo’s expression fell but Maella left him with the others to guard the property until they came back out.
There wasn’t any reason Sethlo couldn’t come along, not really, except that if this was really going to be goodbye, Maella couldn’t bear to do it in front of anyone else.
“Five minutes,” Tain said. “No more distractions.”
Maella agreed. Even five minutes was generous.
Claritsa tried the front door handle. It opened like it normally did. Claritsa’s grandmother said there wasn’t anything worth stealing in the house so why lock it? Plus neighbors mostly looked after each other, unless it was someone like Barth’s dad. But in his case, a locked front door would never have stopped Dustin.
Stepping inside, familiar sights and smells hit Maella. It felt cool compared to the sunlight they had just left. The blinds were halfway closed, throwing shadows across the furniture. A hint of coffee hit her nose. There was a mustiness to the air as if the windows had not been opened in a while, even though Maella knew Claritsa only had a couple fans for air conditioning.
Lamps with cloth shades and beveled glass bases stood on old wooden side tables on either side of the couch. Large, faded pink and blue roses decorated the sagging cough. She followed Claritsa into the combined kitchen and washroom. Everything was smaller and more cramped than Maella could remember, especially after the spaciousness of Botron Palace.
The kitchen was clean and tidy, everything put away just so, with no dirty dishes, and all the counters freshly wiped. Cheery yellow curtains hung from the small window over the sink. The washer and dryer were hooked up right next to the stove. Maella felt a lump rise in her throat and was brought back to the moment when in the midst of a panic attack Claritsa had dragged her up against the dryer. The rumble and bang had settled Maella’s heart enough that her hiccupping sobs had turned into quiet crying and then finally into a bearable silence.
“What if she’s not home?” The anguish in Claritsa’s voice hung in the kitchen air between them.
“Who’s there?” The voice sounded old and strong and stern.
“Grandmother!” Claritsa pushed past Maella, one of her braids whipping Maella in the face. She raced back into the main room with the sagging couch.
Maella followed but then stopped when she saw Claritsa holding the petite frame of her grandmother while both women sobbed. Claritsa had grown enough that she stood taller than her grandmother now and held the old woman like she was the child.
Maella stepped into the hallway, deciding it wasn’t right to invade this particular moment. She wondered what it would be like when she reached home. Would her own grandmother reach for Maella with open arms? Or would she know what Maella must have done, and what Maella must now know, and turn her away instead?
After all, Maella had lived her whole life with her parents and grandmother protecting her from the truth. She had destroyed all their hard work.
Maella wandered into the back rooms as the questions, answers, hugging, and crying created a joyous soundtrack. Tain’s five minute time limit ticked away. Claritsa should have never gone through the door with Maella. How could Maella ask Claritsa to leave now?
The door to Claritsa’s room was open. Maella stepped through, feeling like an intruder, even though she had been inside hundreds of times. She scanned the room, drinking in familiar posters, the bedspread with the faded picture of a favorite movie star, Claritsa’s little cosmetic table with a gilded frame that held a mirror cracked in several places. Claritsa had found the framed mirror in someone’s trash and spent careful attention epoxying it all together.
The mirror split Maella’s face into four parts like it always had done. She went for a closer look, noticing the dark shadows under her eyes. With the blinds closed it was hard to tell the color of her skin. She almost looked normal.
Touching her cheekbone, she wondered at the way her curly hair framed her face now. She could not find any of the childhood softness she had been used to seeing. Everything, from cheek, to chin, to brow ridge, was a little more severe and far more grown up. Her fingernails were jagged with dirt lodged under the cuticles and skin peeling and cracking. She looked at them and saw all the calluses she’d formed over the years of work in both Rock Heaven, the Tower of Shadows, and even climbing the stacks in the Library of Souls.
Her blisters from grabbing the relic out of the fire still chafed but no longer hurt. Her hands were truly an awful sight, nothing like the manicured hands in all the magazines Claritsa used to read. Maella searched the desk for the manicure kit Claritsa used to have. Her eyes fell upon it on the floor next to the desk.
It was hard to imagine that had ever been a thing they could have done together—home manicures. The idea sounded ridiculous now.
With no money for regular manicures at a real salon, Claritsa had scrimped and saved for over a year, and then Maella had begged her own grandmother for the last few dollars just before Claritsa’s eleventh birthday. They went together to buy the special UV light used to set gel nails.
Claritsa had researched the whole thing in magazines near the cash register of the grocery store while her grandmother shopped. There was the base coat, the color gel itself, the topcoat, cotton balls, cuticle trimmer, and finally the light.
The money they’d put together had been just enough with only two pennies left over. Claritsa had left the pennies in the little change box next to the cash register for someone else’s future need. Gathering their materials, they’d set out for Claritsa’s, coming here, to this table and cracked mirror.
Lining up all of the different coats, tools, and colors, Claritsa had practiced on Maella’s nails first and then done her own. They’d worn those silly gel nails with bright bold colors, changing and fixing and replacing everything until the supplies ran out and there wasn’t money for more.
Then they’d gone through Maella’s portal and all thought of manicures had vanished.
Absentmindedly, Maella reached for the switch to turn on the light bed. It was still plugged into the outlet, and the blue light flicked on immediately. It was strange to experience electricity again like it was no big deal.
She listened for a moment. The crying had quieted, but Claritsa and her grandmother were talking in rushed, quiet tones. Maella knew she would have to leave soon.
Something yellow caught her eye. She looked around for the source and saw it was coming from the top of her own pocket. Frowning, Maella reached for the glow and felt the hard edge of her focus stone.
Confused, Maella withdrew what should have been blue One Door stone from her pocket.
But the stone wasn’t blue anymore.
She looked at it in shock. Where the UV light shined, the blue stone glowed yellow. Maella tried to process what she was seeing. Blood rushed across her ears. This was important. This was epic.
She blocked the stone from the light and it became blue again. Puzzle pieces clicked together. Senta had said to look for a stone that glowed yellow. Deep had said it would be a cure for krokosod.
The blue One Door stone was the cure for krokosod. The silly UV nail bed light had been the trick for uncovering it.
Other puzzle pieces fitted into place. While she’d had the focus stone, she had not felt the same severity of symptoms from lack of licatherin like the others. She had blamed the extra licatherin oil she’d consumed while in the Forsi desert. But her symptoms had stayed far milder for far longer, during all their months at the Library of Souls, even with pitiful licatherin rations.
Could her One Door focus stone explain that? She didn’t know if that made sense with how small the stone was and how strongly licatherin held her body. Whatever—she pushed those thoughts aside. What mattered right now was that she might have just found a cheap, easy cure for krokosod. She had felt trapped by her doors after the Tower of Shadows had fallen. Door after door, always opening to One Door stone. But now she knew better.
A giddiness filled Maella as she imagining relaying her discovery to Senta and Deep.
I found your cure for krokosod. I can get you as much as you want.
Her giddiness faded when she remembered that Senta and Deep had both been captured by General Foster.
She switched off the nail bed light. The stone went from yellow to blue in an instant. Tucking the stone into her pocket, she returned to the main room.
It was time to say goodbye.
Claritsa and her grandmother sat together on the sagging couch, side bodies touching, hands clasped together.
“I told your grandmother and mother. I knew you both must be together and looking out for each other. I knew you were safe. And here you are.” Her eyes shined with tears and there was a large smile on her face as she opened her arms wide to encompass Claritsa and the whole world. “God has answered my prayers and both of you are alive and well. Safe and sound.”
“It’s time to go.” Maella bit her lip. “I mean, I have to go. But…you don’t have to come.” She tried to put as much kindness and conviction in her voice as she could. “You should stay. I want you to stay. You’re safe here. I finally got you home.”
Claritsa wiped the tears from her cheeks with rough and calloused hands that matched Maella’s. She stood up and held her grandmother’s hands in both of her own.
Maella steeled herself against Claritsa’s next words.
“We talked about it. I mean, there wasn’t time to talk about everything.” Claritsa looked down at her grandmother. The easy smile on her face was still there but a hint of grief had entered the light in her eyes. “But she knows enough. And she knows—”
“I know that whatever is going on, Claritsa would never leave a job undone. She would never abandon anyone, not on purpose.”
Claritsa closed her eyes for a moment, making Maella wonder if she thought about how the same was not true of Claritsa’s parents, who had abandoned her so many years before.
Claritsa opened her eyes and looked at Maella. “Of course I’m coming with you. This isn’t over yet. Grandmother understands.”