Grounded

Chapter 18

Chapter 18

I rouse in the way you do when you know you've overslept—with a start. My fingers are still laced into Jeremiah's but he's attached to my opposite hand. A bandage on his left arm tells me he's kept his appointment with Maxwell. He's asleep, his head and shoulders hunched next to me while the rest of him sits in a chair near the bed. Poor Jeremiah. I wonder how long he's been in the awkward position. Carefully, I pull my hand from his.

It's midnight. I've slept for almost eight hours. I'm wide awake and ravenously hungry. Climbing from the bed, I wrap my arm around Jeremiah's shoulders and coax the covers back from under his head.

"Into bed, sleepy head," I whisper into his ear.

He doesn't fight me. Rolling out of the chair, he stretches out, his wavy blond halo finding the pillow. As I tuck the comforter around his body, I know for sure he's returned to peaceful slumber. For a moment or two, I watch the rise and fall of his chest in the silence of the room.

All I can think is that he is the embodiment of everything good in the world, everything pure and right and loyal. I love him with an old love. A love that comes from knowing someone before you understand why boys and girls kiss or get married. What a fool I've been. I can't explain this new attraction to Korwin, but surely I should ignore it. He won't be coming home with me. Jeremiah will. Jeremiah is my true future.

Unexpectedly, a heavy weight settles over my chest at the thought. I need to walk. I need to think.

I slip out the door and into the maze of hallways. The tile is cool under my bare feet. Jeremiah must have removed my shoes while I slept, but I'm still wearing the black shirt and jeans from yesterday. I'm glad he didn't try to completely undress me.

Last night, I ended up in Korwin's room. I turn in the opposite direction, not wanting a repeat of that confusing experience. I must be getting better at navigating the compound because I find the gardens without any trouble. Days ago, when I was here with Korwin, ultraviolet panels lit the room to imitate the sun. Now the gardens are dark, simulated stars scattered across the black ceiling. I can see enough though. Along the path near my feet, small square lights bathe the shrubbery and flower blossoms in a subtle glow. The heady smell of roses mixes with the tang of juniper trees. I can almost forget that I'm underground.

I find the labyrinth of hedges Korwin showed me and get lost in the twists and turns. My mind wanders, and a welcome numbness enfolds me. The patter of running water in the distance keeps me moving forward, and the brightly colored flowers, delicately opening in the darkness, enthrall me. The roses don't care if anyone enjoys their beauty; they simply are beautiful. They are beautiful for themselves, because of what they are. No one made them that way, and they are not dependent on any outsider's affirmation. How would it be to have such self-confidence?

Distracted, I find myself in the center of the garden, the marble fountain of the woman glowing on her pedestal. As I approach it slowly, I take it in again. Carved from white marble, she's dressed in a Greek toga and lifting the lid off a curved jar. Water and light flow out and tumble into the pool at her feet. I've never seen anything like it. She glows like an angel.

"It's Pandora." Korwin's voice makes me jump. I turn to see him standing in the shadows, next to the hedges. "Do you know the story of Pandora?"

"Oh, hi. I didn't think anyone would be up," I blurt, noticing he's wearing nothing but a pair of gray cotton shorts. I divert my eyes to the fountain in an effort to avoid the smooth skin of his chest. "I didn't wake you, did I?"

"No, I couldn't sleep. I like to come here when I can't. The sound of the water is soothing."

"Oh." My cheeks burn and I hope he can't see my blush in the poor light. "Um, Pandora, I know she's Greek, but I don't know her story. We don't learn much about art or mythology in Amish school."