The Speed of Mercy by Christy Conlin (good books for high schoolers txt) 📕

later, Granny Scotia escaping the seniors’ home to the tidal currents of Mercy River. Presumed drowned.

Aurora.

Now

I wake up with the silver necklace around my neck. I have to do something. There is no one left. Then a submerged part of me remembers: Seraphina. But I have no phone. Maybe the nurses will let me make a call.

A knock at my door. I don’t say a word. The years of silence remind me that there is safety in it . . . sometimes. The door opens, a dark head peeking around. Aurora.

“Stella?”

Who else does she think it is? She comes in and closes the door. I didn’t realize how petite she was, a mere child. With her mother over in Lupin Cove, arguing in the driveway, they both seemed larger than life.

“You have to help my mother. You have to do something.”

I lower my head. She thinks I can help because I’m old. I lift my chin up. But the words I speak contradict my thoughts. “You’re asking the wrong person, girl. I can’t help you.”

Aurora’s eyes widen then, and she takes a step towards the bed and leans over. I pull back against the pillow. Her eyes are similar to mine, one a dark green and the other brown.

The door opens and a nurse comes in. “Stella, you should have a shower. I can bring you a chair to sit on, if you want. I think that’s a good idea. And Miss, it’s not visiting hours yet. Why don’t you come back later?”

Aurora doesn’t say a word. She looks at me and then out the window. I take her young hand. “Okay, we’ll just finish up with our goodbyes. Then I’ll have a shower.”

“Okay, hon. Buzz if you need any help.”

She leaves and Aurora looks at me, her lips quivering. She’s crying now. “I can’t tell if what my mother says is true or just made up. You know, the crazy stuff. She sees things that aren’t there sometimes. She thinks she’s a seer. When I was little I believed everything she said. She keeps saying that you will know what to do.” Aurora throws her head back as she rolls her eyes through the tears.

I don’t know what to do. She knows this — a fifty-four-year-old lady, thin stringy white hair, sagging cheeks, has no idea. She has no faith in me. I am merely a confirmation of her mother’s illness. A confirmation that adults are helpless children in wrinkled bodies.

“Call Mal,” I whisper.

“The podcaster?”

“Yes,” I say.

Aurora weeps as she leaves.

The shower revives me. I don’t need a shower chair to sit on but I lean against the wall, hold the metal support bar, and turn my face up to the shower head. The water pours over my hair and skin, warm and soothing, settling my mind.

I walk down to the nurse’s station and they seem surprised to see me. Serrie’s card is back in my room, but I have her number in my brain now. I worry I might forget it but when they pass me the phone and tell me to press 9 for an outside line, it comes back right away. The phone rings and goes to voicemail. My head is a bit dizzy. There’s been so much trauma, so many types of medication, so much upheaval, so many knocks on the skull. I try her number again. Someone answers but doesn’t speak.

“Seraphina?”

“Who is this? Aurora? Is that you? It’s loud in my head. You’ll have to speak up,” Seraphina shrieks.

“It’s me.” I’m whispering. One of the nurses looks over at me. I fiddle with my hair and let out a fake laugh. “It’s Stella,” I say, as loud as I can without shouting, my raspy voice hissing into the receiver.

“WHO?”

I say again, “It’s Stella. Stella Maris. You know.”

She’s almost in full mania now. “Why, yes, it is. It’s Stella with the eyes. Same as my daughter’s eyes. I’ve never heard you talk. Not even when we were young girls in Seabury that night. When my mother thought Granny Scotia could save us. The tea was just to keep us strong, to fortify the young. It couldn’t stop bad things from happening.”

Her voice is very fast. She’s still on her high. The shock of my speech has only brought her down for a moment.

“I want you to come and get me. And take me back to the shore. I know what to do.”

“Hallelujah,” Seraphina squawks. It hurts my ear so I hold the phone away. The gaggle of nurses look over at me, not moving their heads, but their eyes, their eyes all on me.

“Get ready, right away. I’m in town now. I’ll be there. But come downstairs, to the entrance outside, because if they see me in there, I’ll never get out. Never, ever, get out.”

“How do I get downstairs?”

“Stella, Stella, I don’t know. You have to figure that out yourself. I’m trying to eat a sandwich. I’m arguing with angels. You’re all making it hard for me to have my dinner. Don’t flap those wings at me. Sorry, Stella. I have more important things to do than tell you how to go down the stairs.” She hangs up.

I don’t have any clothes to get dressed in so I tell a nurse I’m walking in my slippers to the canteen. Eugene has left me some vouchers. All they need is one look at me to dispel any thought of flight. I think about the silent Stella, running away into the woods, off on trails, the Stella who got locked on the unit, who could only go on outings with Dianne who never once let me run away, until the end, the run that killed her.

I take the stairs to the ground floor lobby where the canteen is. The lobby is full. I’m not the only one in hospital clothes and a housecoat. I see the canteen at the far side of the lobby. I have never been down here before, not that