She edges closer, wary, like I'm an animal who could spring without warning. Maybe I am. She returns to the table but maintains a safe distance. "But I never gave up on you. I did what I thought was right. I did for you"--her voice catches, and I watch her stiffen to maintain control--"I did for you what I knew you would do for me if it were the other way around. I thought it was finished. I don't know how someone got to your upload. It was at the bottom of a pond and--"

"No one got to the one in the pond."

Her head turns to the side like she didn't hear me quite correctly. "How did ... I don't understand."

"Copies."

"What?"

"Come on, Jenna. You have five hundred billion biochips too. Even back then, no one could make a video game without someone hacking it before it even made it to market. People made illegal copies of anything to make an easy buck. Books, movies, software, you name it. A thousand people worked for your dad, and he invented something way more valuable than a video game. Opportunity knocked, and someone took advantage of it. It never occurred to you or him that someone would make copies?"

She steps away like she is dazed. She slowly circles the kitchen and finally stops at the counter, leaning against it for support. "There was a copy of me," she whispers. "'Just in case,' my father had said." She shakes her head. "My God, I should have known, or at least suspected." She whirls to look at me. "You said copies." The expectation in her voice is unmistakable. In a hushed voice she says, "Kara?"

I nod. "Kara too. She's on her way here."

And that seems to break the thread that is holding her together. Her face falls into her hands, and she sobs. They are quiet sobs, nearly silent, and that somehow makes it worse. Her chest shakes like something violent has been broken loose inside of her. I see now that Kara and I weren't the only ones who suffered. I can see that she still loves Kara too.

I push against the table to help myself stand. My temples throb. "Jenna, there's something else you need to know." I take a step forward. "It's about Kara--" My knees buckle, and I suddenly find myself looking up at a ceiling looming in and out of focus, and then I see Jenna's face over mine, and then they both disappear.

Chapter 45

"Are you dead?"

I feel small, sticky fingers prying my eye open.

"Yeah. You're dead."

I open both eyes to see Jenna racing through a door at the end of a bed I am apparently lying in. "Kayla! I told you not to come in here! Go on out to the greenhouse with Aunt Allys. She's leaving in just a minute. She has a special chore for you."

I look at the small child at the side of my bed. She has long black hair and shocking blue eyes that squint at me suspiciously. She is clearly dubious of Jenna's commands and doesn't budge.

Jenna tilts her head and says firmly, "Kayla."

The little girl rolls her eyes like she is four going on fourteen. "I'll play with you later," she says before she skips out the door.

Jenna smiles and shakes her head, and then comes in and sits on the edge of the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Good, I guess. How long have I been out?"

"Almost twenty-four hours, but part of that is my fault. I gave you something. I wasn't sure how it would work with your particular--" She stops like she is searching for a word. "Configuration. But you seem to have a system that responds in most ways like a typical human body, and I didn't want to stitch you up without something to put you out for a while. Besides, you needed the rest."

"Wait a minute." I push myself up on one elbow. "You stitched me?" I look down. My shirt is gone, and when I glance beneath the blanket, so are the rest of my clothes. It looks like I've been bathed. "What did you--"

"Don't worry. I'm over it. You should be too."

I pull the blanket up a little higher to cover my chest. "Where'd you learn to stitch things?"

She smiles. "There's a lot you can learn in two hundred and sixty years. I haven't been sitting around twiddling my thumbs all this time." She reaches over and lays her hand on mine like it was only yesterday that we held hands under the stars. "I'm going to bring you something to eat. If you're up to it, your clothes are over there." She nods toward a chair in the corner. "Freshly washed." She stands. "I'll be right back."

Once she closes the door, I hop out of bed and grab my clothes, scrambling them on as fast as I can. But I guess the seeing-me-naked ship has already sailed. I pull my shirt up and look in the mirror. The bandage around my middle is gone, and the gash is barely visible. She knows how to stitch. I look around the room. It's simply furnished--a bed, an antique dresser with an oval mirror, and two small wingback chairs in the corner with a small round table between them. On the floor is a basket of shells, stones, and worn pieces of glass and wood that look like they've been collected from a beach. A multicolored braided rug lies between the bed and chairs. There's only one picture on the wall. I step closer to get a better look. It's an old photo of some kind of art--hundreds of pine needles pushed into the ground, made to look like a snake weaving in and out of the earth. Right near the head of the snake is a single real sparrow with its head slightly turned, almost as if it's listening for a hiss. The title is handwritten at the bottom, Pine Serpent, with an inscription in one corner, To Jenna, and then signed in the other corner, C. Bender.