The Second Heart
* * *
Amelia held her daughter for a long time while Eleanor, Josh, and Vi left the room to talk about logistics. Amelia didn’t care about any of that; her whole focus was on her little girl--her little girl who was far too young to be so afraid. After a while, Eleanor strode into the room and pointed at the shattered lamp. Amelia and Rob watched with rapt attention as the lamp reassembled and then righted itself, sitting innocuously on the hearth as though someone had placed it there.
“Where does it go?” Eleanor asked brusquely.
“There,” Vi answered from the doorway, pointing at an end table next to the couch.
With a flick of her wrist, Eleanor sent the lamp sailing through the room, bringing it to rest on the table.
Meredith had raised her head from her mother’s shoulder and watched Eleanor’s display. “You’re like a surly Mary Poppins,” she blurted.
Eleanor looked at her and laughed out loud. “Well, I can’t say I’ve gotten that one before.”
Meredith didn’t respond, still staring at the lamp. She seemed to have receded back into herself, and Amelia wished she knew what her daughter was thinking. Amelia wondered if Eleanor did. Could magicians read minds?
After some brief conversation, Eleanor invited Amelia, Rob, and Meredith to return to her house. The fewer people that remained to be interrogated by the police, the better. Amelia agreed and was grateful that Meredith wouldn’t have to answer any questions. After a quick check through the house to ensure they weren’t leaving anything behind, they said their goodbyes and left.
Amelia took Meredith out to the car and sat in the back seat with her, helping her to buckle in. Meredith seemed so brittle that she would break, and Amelia wished more than anything that she could take the pain and fear away. The trees and billboards and cars whooshed past the windows as they drove to Eleanor’s house, but Amelia kept her eyes on Meredith, gently stroking her hair.
“I was a coward,” Meredith said suddenly.
“What do you mean, sweetheart?”
“I hesitated,” Meredith continued, almost to herself. “If I had run out and attacked her right away, maybe she wouldn’t have killed Miguel.”
“No,” Amelia said firmly. “There’s nothing you could have done.”
“And then, if I hadn’t decided to run… maybe I could have won. Maybe she wouldn’t still be out there.” A single tear trailed down Meredith’s cheek.
“Shh, no,” Amelia murmured. “You were right to run, Meredith. She could have gotten you, too.” Amelia shuddered at the thought, wrapping an arm around Meredith and squeezing her tight. Meredith rested her head on Amelia’s shoulder gratefully, closing her eyes and remaining silent for the rest of the car ride.
At Eleanor’s house, Amelia took Meredith into the bathroom and helped her take a shower and put on clean clothes. She hadn’t shampooed her daughter’s hair since Meredith was a little girl, and the memories the task conjured up caused fresh waves of protectiveness to wash over Amelia. Something had to be done. Meredith couldn’t live like this, and neither could she.
After Meredith was clean and clothed in the outfit that Vi had bought for her, Amelia led her into Eleanor’s bedroom. The nurse had just finished putting fresh sheets on the bed, and she stood in the doorway with the bundle of old sheets in her arms, watching as Amelia tucked Meredith in. Meredith rolled over and closed her eyes, exhausted from her sleepless night.
Eleanor turned to leave, but Meredith’s voice stopped her. “Eleanor?”
“Yes?”
Meredith opened her eyes, and their shocking blue color stood out starkly against the outer edges, which were red from crying. “Please don’t make me leave again.” Her voice was small and humbled.
Amelia sat on the edge of the bed, watching Eleanor’s reaction keenly. Amelia agreed entirely with her daughter’s sentiments, since Eleanor knew about magic and could protect them.
Eleanor gave them an understanding smile. “Of course you’ll stay here,” she said. “Now rest.”
Amelia followed Eleanor out of the room, hovering quietly while the older woman loaded the armload of sheets into the washing machine. Once the machine was set to its task, Eleanor beckoned Amelia to follow her to the kitchen, where she set a kettle of water on the stove to boil.
“I had a son,” Eleanor said at last. She leaned against the kitchen counter and met Amelia’s gaze. “He died a long time ago, but I’ve never forgotten what it feels like to be a mother. To worry. I want you to know that.”
Amelia resisted the urge to look around the room at Eleanor’s simple home, to scrutinize it in this new light. Amelia hadn’t considered the possibility that Eleanor was anything but an old spinster, living out a lonely, spare existence. That was certainly how the nurse had presented herself. She obviously had a lot to learn about the older woman. After a moment, Amelia recollected herself and said, “I’m sorry. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to lose a child.”
“No one ever can, until it happens to them.” Eleanor removed the kettle from the heat and poured them each a cup of tea.
Amelia wrapped her hands around the warm cup gratefully. “What are we going to do?” Her tone of voice spoke the volumes of worry that she couldn’t find the words to express.
Eleanor took a contemplative sip of her tea. “There is a lot that Meredith still does not understand, and I need her to trust me. I need you all to trust me. Perhaps it’s time to tell you all the rest of the story.”