I’ll need nothing. Thank you, Miranda.”
“Okay,” I said. “But if you have to—go to the jakes in the middle of the night—”
“I will cover myself up. I do have a proper sense of shame.”
“Well, good, then. Good night.”
“Miranda, before we say good-night, will ye pray with me?” Edmund asked.
“Uh…yeah. Okay, I guess,” I said. “What religion are you?”
“Church of England, of course,” he said. “Inclining more toward the old faith than some, as I expect ye’ve noted. What are ye?”
Dad was Jewish, and Mom wasn’t anything. My six-week stint in Sunday school had been because I was curious where some of my friends went on Sunday morning back in the second grade. My curiosity had been satisfied and I hadn’t been back since.
“Sort of nothing,” I said. “But I’ll pray with you if you want me to.”
“Were ye never baptized, then?”
“Nope.”
“Kneel down with me, Miranda Hoberman,” Edmund said. “And do as I do.”
And just like a little kid he knelt down beside his bed, crossed himself, folded his hands and bowed his head.
“Dear God, ’tis Edmund Shakeshaft, a sinner. I am heart.ily sorry for taking part in Doctor Dee’s necromantic ex.periment today. And I am justly punished by being ripped away from all that I have known. But Ye have shown me great mercy, Dear Lord, in sending me to this place so full of wonders and granting me this marvelous girl as my help and companion. I know not what tomorrow may bring, or even what may hap tonight. But I confide in Your mercy to see me safely through. And if it be Your will that stranger things may yet befall, yet will I repose my hope in Ye. Bless Miranda Hoberman, and grant her the desire of her heart, as ye granted mine, that she may play Juliet. Bless Drew Jen.kins and Bobby Ruspoli and grant them safe passage home in yon car. Bless all at home, Mother, Father, Joan, Gilbert, Richard, Anne and her young ones Susannah, Hamlet and Judith. And even my brother Will, whom Ye know to be a horse’s ass.” He looked over at me and whispered, “Is there aught else ye’d like to add?”
“I’m good,” I said. “Wrap it up.”
“Your meaning?” Edmund whispered again.
“Finish whenever you’re ready,” I said, realizing that I was whispering, too.
“Then in the name of Your Son, our Savior Jesus Christ who lives and reigns with Ye and the Holy Spirit, Amen.”
“Amen, too.” I got up. “Good night,” I said.
“Give ye good rest, Miranda,” Edmund said.
I closed the door behind me and went out into the living room.
I thought about watching something or listening to some.thing, but I realized that what I really wanted was quiet. No, not wanted. Needed. All in all, this had been a pretty un.usual Tuesday, and I had a lot to process.
So I sat in the big armchair that had been Dad’s and would be again if he ever came back, and closed my eyes and tried to meditate.
The thing is, I can’t meditate. Either I start thinking about random stuff, or I fall asleep. I don’t know how the Dalai Lama does it.
So I just sat there, and when I couldn’t meditate, I went to bed and thought.
First of all, how could I make my mom believe any of this? I couldn’t, I realized. But Edmund could. As soon as she’d been around him for ten minutes, she’d see that I was telling the truth. Once she knew that, her nurse self would kick in, and she’d do whatever she could to help him.
Second, why was my hand still tingling a little?
I worked on that one until I fell asleep.
Chapter Seven
There were three things Mom insisted on for me before I started classes: breakfast, bath and the value of an invigo.rating walk to school. And she always made sure that I was clean, fed and out the door on time no matter how many shifts she’d pulled the day before. My life was as orderly as she could make it. I feared I was about to mess with that big time.
When Mom strode in the door at seven-thirty the next morning, I
“Okay,” I said. “But if you have to—go to the jakes in the middle of the night—”
“I will cover myself up. I do have a proper sense of shame.”
“Well, good, then. Good night.”
“Miranda, before we say good-night, will ye pray with me?” Edmund asked.
“Uh…yeah. Okay, I guess,” I said. “What religion are you?”
“Church of England, of course,” he said. “Inclining more toward the old faith than some, as I expect ye’ve noted. What are ye?”
Dad was Jewish, and Mom wasn’t anything. My six-week stint in Sunday school had been because I was curious where some of my friends went on Sunday morning back in the second grade. My curiosity had been satisfied and I hadn’t been back since.
“Sort of nothing,” I said. “But I’ll pray with you if you want me to.”
“Were ye never baptized, then?”
“Nope.”
“Kneel down with me, Miranda Hoberman,” Edmund said. “And do as I do.”
And just like a little kid he knelt down beside his bed, crossed himself, folded his hands and bowed his head.
“Dear God, ’tis Edmund Shakeshaft, a sinner. I am heart.ily sorry for taking part in Doctor Dee’s necromantic ex.periment today. And I am justly punished by being ripped away from all that I have known. But Ye have shown me great mercy, Dear Lord, in sending me to this place so full of wonders and granting me this marvelous girl as my help and companion. I know not what tomorrow may bring, or even what may hap tonight. But I confide in Your mercy to see me safely through. And if it be Your will that stranger things may yet befall, yet will I repose my hope in Ye. Bless Miranda Hoberman, and grant her the desire of her heart, as ye granted mine, that she may play Juliet. Bless Drew Jen.kins and Bobby Ruspoli and grant them safe passage home in yon car. Bless all at home, Mother, Father, Joan, Gilbert, Richard, Anne and her young ones Susannah, Hamlet and Judith. And even my brother Will, whom Ye know to be a horse’s ass.” He looked over at me and whispered, “Is there aught else ye’d like to add?”
“I’m good,” I said. “Wrap it up.”
“Your meaning?” Edmund whispered again.
“Finish whenever you’re ready,” I said, realizing that I was whispering, too.
“Then in the name of Your Son, our Savior Jesus Christ who lives and reigns with Ye and the Holy Spirit, Amen.”
“Amen, too.” I got up. “Good night,” I said.
“Give ye good rest, Miranda,” Edmund said.
I closed the door behind me and went out into the living room.
I thought about watching something or listening to some.thing, but I realized that what I really wanted was quiet. No, not wanted. Needed. All in all, this had been a pretty un.usual Tuesday, and I had a lot to process.
So I sat in the big armchair that had been Dad’s and would be again if he ever came back, and closed my eyes and tried to meditate.
The thing is, I can’t meditate. Either I start thinking about random stuff, or I fall asleep. I don’t know how the Dalai Lama does it.
So I just sat there, and when I couldn’t meditate, I went to bed and thought.
First of all, how could I make my mom believe any of this? I couldn’t, I realized. But Edmund could. As soon as she’d been around him for ten minutes, she’d see that I was telling the truth. Once she knew that, her nurse self would kick in, and she’d do whatever she could to help him.
Second, why was my hand still tingling a little?
I worked on that one until I fell asleep.
Chapter Seven
There were three things Mom insisted on for me before I started classes: breakfast, bath and the value of an invigo.rating walk to school. And she always made sure that I was clean, fed and out the door on time no matter how many shifts she’d pulled the day before. My life was as orderly as she could make it. I feared I was about to mess with that big time.
When Mom strode in the door at seven-thirty the next morning, I
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