"But you sound—" Ellen stopped, correcting herself. "Of course you sound like you. You are you.”
"I know," Kaye said. "But I'm not who you thought I was, right?”
Ellen shook her head. "When I saw Kate, I was so afraid. I figured you did something dumb to get her back from whatever had her, didn't you? See, I know you. You.”
"Her name's not Kate. She's Kaye. The real—”
Ellen held up one hand. "You didn't answer my question.”
"Yeah." Kaye sighed. "I did something pretty dumb.”
"See, you're exactly who I think you are." Ellen's arms went around Kaye's shoulders and she laughed her deep, cigarette-rough laugh. "You're my girl."
Chapter 11
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
—E. E. CUMMINGS, "SOMEWHERE I HAVE NEVER TRAVELLED, GLADLY BEYOND"
The lawn in front of Corny's trailer was decorated with a giant inflated penguin wearing a green scarf and hat and a red Star Trek shirt complete with an insignia on the left breast. It sat on the lawn, glowing erratically. As Luis pulled into the gravel drive, multicolored lights strobed from the roof of the trailer next door, turning the whole lot into a disco.
"Aren't you going to tell me what a beautiful home I have?" Corny said, but the joke felt forced, lame.
Ethine leaned forward, her fingers on the plastic seat.
Luis shut off the car. "Is that penguin dressed as—”
"Tip of the iceberg," said Corny.
Leading Ethine by the fur-lined handcuff, Luis waited as Corny unlocked the front door. Inside, the rainbow fiber-optic tree illuminated a pile of dirty dishes. Framed needlepoint samplers hung on the wall next to signed pictures of Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock. A cat jumped down with a thud and started to wail.
"My room's down that hall," Corny whispered. "Home sweet home.”
Luis padded over the worn carpet, leading Ethine behind him. There was a musty smell that Corny hadn't noticed before. He wondered if he'd just gotten used to it.
Corny's mother opened the hall door. There was something sad about her thin nightgown, her tangled bed-hair and bare feet. She hugged him before he spoke.
"Mom," Corny said. "This is Luis and . . . Eileen.”
"How can you just walk in here like this?" she said, stepping back and looking him over. "You missed Christmas, this year of all years. The first Christmas since your sister's funeral. We thought you were dead too. Your stepfather cried like I've never seen him.”
Corny squinted, as though some problem with his vision could explain her words. "I missed Christmas? What day is it?”
"It's the twenty-sixth," she said. "What are you three wearing? And your hair's black. Where have you been?”
Five days gone. Corny groaned. Of course. Time ran differently in Faerieland. It had seemed like two days when it had been twice that. Crossing to that island had been like crossing another time zone, like flying to Australia, except there was no way to gain that time on the way back.
"What is wrong with you? What have you been doing that you don't know how long you've been gone?”
Corny plucked at his tunic with a yellow-gloved hand. "Mom—”
"I don't know if I can ever forgive you." She shook her head. "But it's the middle of the night and I'm too tired to listen to your excuses. I'm exhausted from worrying.”
She turned toward Luis and Ethine. "There's some more blankets in the closet if you get cold; remind Corny to turn on the space heater.”
Ethine seemed ready to say something, but Luis spoke first. "Thank you for letting us stay." He looked almost shy. "We'll try not to be any trouble.”>All the lights on the second floor were on, glowing like jack-o'-lantern eyes. No holiday lights trimmed the front steps, although all the neighboring houses were lit, bright and twinkling. Kaye climbed up the tree in front of her bedroom, the frozen bark rough and familiar under her palms. As she stepped onto the snow-covered asphalt of the shingles, she could see figures in her bedroom. Crouching, she scooted closer.