something?”
“Yes.” And she held up her book again and tapped the cover with her fingers. Her eyes peered into mine, as if to communicate some secret message. I looked back down at the book then back at her. Jane Eyre? No . What did I forget? And then it struck me. “The book. Angela’s book!” I nearly shouted. “I almost forgot about it.”
“I know, dear. In the future, though, I think you shall remember. Now, go, my child, you have studying to do.”
I hugged Anawin and thanked her, then I dashed out of the library. Lyra did not look the least bit surprise to see me sprinting into the Archives.
“Forenica!” she exclaimed, “You’ve been away for too long. How I hoped to see you soon! Look at you. You’re becoming quite an experienced guardian. It shows in your eyes.” She paused and put her hands on her wide hips with an air of satisfaction. “I bet you’re here for that book of hers, aren’t you? You stay right here. I’ll be back with it in a jiffy.”
She hurried off, humming a cheery tune, disappearing behind one of the doors along the far wall. A second later, she reappeared waving the little book in her hand as she hurried back to me. How does she do that? I marveled . There must be billions of books to sort through, not to mention thousands of Angelas.
“Here you are, Angela’s book. Now, you may use this room there on the left. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”
I thanked her and entered the room, identical to the one where Lyra and Anawin first showed me Angela’s book. I went over and sat in one of the chairs surrounding the small table, opened the book and began thumbing through its crisp pages. Each page contained beautiful hand-written letters, delicately scripted like the books copied by monks many hundred years past. The book contained neither chapter markers nor table of contents. So, starting from the beginning seemed like as good an idea as any. I turned to the first page and placed the book on the table.
Little time passed before I became engrossed in Angela’s story, happily watching the events of her early life. I laughed and smiled, cried for sorrow and wept for joy. I saw Angela as a perfect, innocent baby. Her parents treasured and adored her. She grew into a little girl, impish as her own Kailey, sweet as heaven’s dew. Growing older, she started middle school, adolescence began. Clothes and makeup and hair and boys all took their place as things of great importance. Those awkward years, where her little girl beauty transformed into more womanly physical beauty, came on in full force: braces filled her mouth, glasses masked her stunning blue eyes. She acutely felt that awkwardness—desired to be beautiful and adored. High school began and with it new trials and struggles. She battled to find her place in the world, to fit in. Friends, bad and good, came and went. The first date ended in tears. How I wished I might ha ve been there to hold her hand.
She started college and mostly kept out of trouble. Until she and Jack met in a required political science class. She fell hopelessly in love with him. After just a few short months of dating, Jack proposed. Both sets of parents objected to their rushed engagement, insisting that the young couple needed to first complete their education. Jack and Angela refused to wait. And so, true to their words, Jack and Angela’s parents discontinued financial support.
The newlyweds, penniless but happy, were forced to drop out of college. They both worked hard for mediocre pay. Then Catherine was born. She was a precious child, with her mother’s golden hair and sapphire eyes. Angela quit her job so she could take care of Catherine at home. They were happy years for Jack and Angela.
Then I came to something which took me off my guard. Almost two years after Catherine was born, Angela was pregnant with another child.
What had happened to the child? Justin was the next oldest child, and a six-year age gap
“Yes.” And she held up her book again and tapped the cover with her fingers. Her eyes peered into mine, as if to communicate some secret message. I looked back down at the book then back at her. Jane Eyre? No . What did I forget? And then it struck me. “The book. Angela’s book!” I nearly shouted. “I almost forgot about it.”
“I know, dear. In the future, though, I think you shall remember. Now, go, my child, you have studying to do.”
I hugged Anawin and thanked her, then I dashed out of the library. Lyra did not look the least bit surprise to see me sprinting into the Archives.
“Forenica!” she exclaimed, “You’ve been away for too long. How I hoped to see you soon! Look at you. You’re becoming quite an experienced guardian. It shows in your eyes.” She paused and put her hands on her wide hips with an air of satisfaction. “I bet you’re here for that book of hers, aren’t you? You stay right here. I’ll be back with it in a jiffy.”
She hurried off, humming a cheery tune, disappearing behind one of the doors along the far wall. A second later, she reappeared waving the little book in her hand as she hurried back to me. How does she do that? I marveled . There must be billions of books to sort through, not to mention thousands of Angelas.
“Here you are, Angela’s book. Now, you may use this room there on the left. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”
I thanked her and entered the room, identical to the one where Lyra and Anawin first showed me Angela’s book. I went over and sat in one of the chairs surrounding the small table, opened the book and began thumbing through its crisp pages. Each page contained beautiful hand-written letters, delicately scripted like the books copied by monks many hundred years past. The book contained neither chapter markers nor table of contents. So, starting from the beginning seemed like as good an idea as any. I turned to the first page and placed the book on the table.
Little time passed before I became engrossed in Angela’s story, happily watching the events of her early life. I laughed and smiled, cried for sorrow and wept for joy. I saw Angela as a perfect, innocent baby. Her parents treasured and adored her. She grew into a little girl, impish as her own Kailey, sweet as heaven’s dew. Growing older, she started middle school, adolescence began. Clothes and makeup and hair and boys all took their place as things of great importance. Those awkward years, where her little girl beauty transformed into more womanly physical beauty, came on in full force: braces filled her mouth, glasses masked her stunning blue eyes. She acutely felt that awkwardness—desired to be beautiful and adored. High school began and with it new trials and struggles. She battled to find her place in the world, to fit in. Friends, bad and good, came and went. The first date ended in tears. How I wished I might ha ve been there to hold her hand.
She started college and mostly kept out of trouble. Until she and Jack met in a required political science class. She fell hopelessly in love with him. After just a few short months of dating, Jack proposed. Both sets of parents objected to their rushed engagement, insisting that the young couple needed to first complete their education. Jack and Angela refused to wait. And so, true to their words, Jack and Angela’s parents discontinued financial support.
The newlyweds, penniless but happy, were forced to drop out of college. They both worked hard for mediocre pay. Then Catherine was born. She was a precious child, with her mother’s golden hair and sapphire eyes. Angela quit her job so she could take care of Catherine at home. They were happy years for Jack and Angela.
Then I came to something which took me off my guard. Almost two years after Catherine was born, Angela was pregnant with another child.
What had happened to the child? Justin was the next oldest child, and a six-year age gap
Similar Books
