The City of Mirrors Page 219


Pim stepped outside. That she was meant to conceal her journal in this place was apparent; the cave was a repository of the past. Still, she longed to know more. Who were these people? Where had they come from? How had they died? Standing at the edge of the pool, she could feel the presence of these silenced lives. She made her way around the walls. Gradually, as if a veil had lifted from her eyes, other artifacts emerged. Shards of pottery. A wooden spoon. A circle of stones where a fire had once been laid. On the far side of the pool, she came to a tangle of bushes with thick, waxy leaves. Something lurked behind it—a curved shape, bulging from the ground.

It was a boat—more precisely, a lifeboat. The fiberglass hull, about twenty feet long, was settled deeply into the soil. Vines entwined it, rendering it nearly invisible; a thick duff of organic matter carpeted the bottom, small plants growing from it. How long had it rested here, slowly sinking into the jungle floor? Years, decades, even more. She circled the hull, hunting for clues. It yielded nothing until she reached the stern. Affixed to the transom, partially obscured by vegetation, was a wooden plaque—faded, brittle, riven with rot. Spectral letters were etched into its surface. She crouched and pulled the vines aside.

For a time she did not move, so profound was her astonishment. How could it be so? But as the minutes passed, a new feeling rose within her. She remembered the storm, the great wind howling down, carrying them to shore when all seemed lost. Destiny was too small a word; there was a force at work that ran far deeper, a thread woven into the fabric of all things. When more time had elapsed she rose and returned to the clearing. She had no intentions; she was acting by instinct. At the edge of the pool she knelt once more. There, in the water’s placid surface, she beheld the image of her face: a young face, smooth and unlined, though this, she knew, would change. Time would have its way, as it did for everyone. Her babies would grow; she, and all the people she loved, would recede, becoming memories, then memories of memories, and finally nothing at all. It was a sad thought, but it also made her happy in a way that felt new. This island of refuge: It was meant to be theirs. It had waited for them all along, so that history could begin again. That’s what the words on the plaque had told her.

Perhaps a time would come when it would feel right to share this with the others. On that day, she would lead them to the boat and show them what she had discovered. But not just yet. For now—like her journals and the story they told—it would be her secret, this message from the past, engraved upon the transom of a derelict lifeboat.

BERGENSFJORD

OSLO, NORWAY

* * *

88

Carter held his breath as long as he could. Bubbles rose around his face; his lungs were screaming for air. The world above seemed miles away, though in fact it was only a few feet. Finally he could endure it no longer. He pushed off and zoomed to the surface, exploding into the summer sunshine.

“Do it again, Anthony!”

Haley was clinging to his back. She was wearing a pink two-piece suit and cobalt-blue goggles that made her look like an enormous bug.

“All right,” he laughed, “just give me a second. Besides, it’s Riley’s turn.”

Haley’s sister was sitting on the pool deck, dangling her feet in the water. Her bathing suit was one piece, green, with a flouncy skirt and a single plastic daisy appliquéd onto one shoulder strap; she was wearing orange water wings. Carter could toss her into the water for hours without her getting bored.

“Again! Again!” demanded Haley.

Rachel walked toward them from the garden. She was dressed in shorts and a white T-shirt streaked with dirt; on her head, a broad straw hat. In one gloved hand she held a pair of shears, in the other a basket of freshly cut flowers of various types and colors.

“Girls, let Anthony catch his breath.”

“I don’t mind,” Carter said. He was clinging to the side. “It’s no bother.”

“See?” said Haley. “He says he doesn’t mind.”

“That’s because he’s being polite.” Rachel removed her gloves and dropped them into the basket. Her face shone with sweat and sun. “How about some lunch?”

“What do we have?” Haley asked.

“Let me think.” Her mother frowned theatrically. “Hot dogs?”

“Yay! Hot dogs!”

Rachel broke into a smile. “I guess that decides it. Hot dogs it shall be. Do you want one, Anthony?”

He nodded. “I can always take a hot dog.”

She returned to the house. Carter climbed from the pool and got towels for himself and the girls.

“Can we swim more?” Haley asked, as he was rubbing her hair. It was blond, with flecks of a copper color. Riley’s was a soft, heathery brown, quite long. She liked to wear it in pigtails when she swam.

“Depends on what your mama says. Maybe after lunch.”

She made her eyes grow wide. That was the kind of girl she was, always putting on a show to get what she wanted. It was the funniest thing. “If you say yes, she’ll have to say it, too.”

“Don’t work that way, you know that. We’ll just have to see.”

He squeezed the last of the water from her hair, sent the two of them off to play, and sat at the wrought-iron table to catch his breath and watch. There were toys all over the yard—Barbies, stuffed animals, a brightly colored plastic play set Haley was too big for but still liked to fool with, the two of them pretending it was other things, such as the counter at a store. Haley had gone off in one direction, her sister in another.

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