The Locket (32 page)

“Yes,” he mumbled.

“The next step, my boy, is to find the way to best amend your situation. Do you have any idea how?”

“No.”

The king sighed deeply. “Well, then I suggest that you figure it out and figure it out quickly—before your wedding tomorrow.”

Returning his attention to his father, Christian just barely caught the slight glimpse of angst in his eyes before he left the room.

***

Marie paced the three feet of floor not covered by boxes or furniture until she was dizzy. “Are you crazy?” she asked with fisted hands behind her back. She paused only long enough to fix her friend with scolding eyes then, instead of pacing again, she tapped her foot on the hardwood floor.

Savannah winced at the dirt Marie was shaking off her sneakers. “Of course not. I’m the opposite of crazy, in fact; I’m sane. My theory about this is all very logical.”

Marie rolled her eyes and began to pace again when her foot grew tired. “You realize that a kind, chivalrous, drop-dead-gorgeous prince of a fairytale land told you that he is in love with you and you chose to come back here … to New York. Anyone who would do that belongs in an asylum.”

This time Savannah snapped her attention back to Marie, staring her dead in the eye. “That place wasn’t real. He wasn’t—isn’t—real. I told you, it was all just some exceptionally vivid dream prompted by your everyday sugar rush. There is no other rational explanation for what I experienced.” Folding her arms in triumph, she brought her attention back to the floor. “And for heaven’s sake, have the decency to Swiffer that up when you’re done.”

Her friend glanced down at her feet and rolled her eyes again as she pulled off her shoes. “You know, Anna,” she began, setting her sneakers aside and going to the corner to grab the duster, “you’re the only girl I know who actually keeps a Swiffer in her room and cleans like her life depends on it.” After putting it back in the corner when she was done, Marie plopped on the bed and started playing with Savannah’s hair.

“You need to loosen up and stop being so uptight. Listen, I know you think that what you went through was just some wacko nightmare—”

“It wasn’t a nightmare,” Savannah interrupted. “It was a dream.” When Marie only stared at her in question, she went on, “There’s a big difference. A nightmare would imply that I was afraid or didn’t like it. But …” she trailed off on a sigh.

“You liked it,” Marie finished for her.

Savannah laid her head back against the bedframe, well aware of how ludicrous her next confession was going to sound. She was not making this up, that one thing was for sure. Or else, after a good night’s sleep, she would have lost all the pain that ebbed in and out of her heart. On the other hand, she had only to believe that it did not actually happen simply because it was literally impossible. “For once I really don’t think that there is an explanation. It wasn’t real, but it wasn’t fake either. I mean, I can’t have feelings for someone imaginary, can I? I realize that people can fall in love with fictional characters, but would it hurt this much? I just don’t get it.”

Marie paused in mid-thought, glanced down at her friend sitting pathetically with her hands covering her eyes, and knelt down beside her. “But what if it is real?” she said in sincerity as she gently brought Savannah’s hands down from her face. Her voice did not hold sarcasm, nor did it hold playfulness. There was no laughter in her eyes or the faintest ghost of a smile playing at her lips. She was absolutely serious.

That may have been the exact reason why Savannah shuddered. Nodding, though not fully committing her attention to her friend, Savannah closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. It’s painful to think and talk about it. I might as well stop one even if I can’t the other.”

Marie silently agreed, wetting her lips. “All right.” She paused for minute, then out of pure impulse said, “But if it were real, you would go back for him, wouldn’t you?” Savannah opened her eyes back up and said nothing, taking a hard, long glance at the wall. “Wouldn’t you?”

For another minute, she said nothing. Dropping her eyes, her face wrinkled with the pains of memory. “No.”

Marie tilted her head in a mixture of both puzzlement and skepticism. “No?”

“No, and for two reasons. One, it is a physical impossibility as we’ve established. Two, because …” Her eyes trailed off. “Because ...”

Marie lifted a brow. “Yes?”

This time, Savannah stared directly into her eyes, like lasers shooting a target. “Because I don’t think that I could forgive him for what he did.” When Marie only raised another eyebrow, she continued. “Look, I appreciate that you’re trying to help me make sense of this all, but I’ve got it covered. Everything is just a bit of a mess right now, and I think that because of what happened with my mom, my mind isn’t quite able to take it all in yet. Whether or not this is the answer, I am willing to accept the fact that what I’m going through is simply some psychological phase. I’ll be back to my normal self in a few weeks, I
promise.”

Marie nodded, wondering when Savannah was going to realize she was being ridiculous. This was the first time she had ever seen her get so bent out of shape over anything besides her mother. She had never seen so much heartbreak and denial from one person in such a short amount of time. Perhaps, she thought decisively, her friend just needed a little nudge.

“I’m going to go get a board game; it’s been way too long since we’ve played one, don’t you think?”

Nodding in relief at the change in topic, Savannah smiled. “You and my aunt both. Monopoly?”

Marie returned her smile. “My favorite classic game.” Making her way to the doorway, she paused and then turned around. “Oh darn, I just realized I don’t know where your aunt keeps the board games. Why don’t you go get it? I’ll put on some music.”

Agreeing, Savannah scurried out to the living room while Marie pulled her backpack onto the bed. Quickly fishing out her iPod, she was about to plug it in before an idea struck her. Returning to her pack, she pulled out a black leather c.d. carrier and set an old mixed disk in the stereo. After pushing play and forwarding to the song she wanted, Marie made a point to leave the room before Savannah got back and slip into the bathroom to freshen her make-up.

“So, girly, did you want to be the person who hands out the property or the bank—” When she looked up from the box, she was surprised to find that the room was empty. “Marie?” Glancing back into the hallway, she saw the bathroom light on and shrugged, bringing herself to the floor to begin setting up.

Initially, she did not pay any attention to what song was playing. Savannah laid out the board across the floor, gathered up the property cards, and placed the chance and community chest cards in their places. But by the time she started sorting out the amount of money she and Marie would each obtain, the beats and rhythm of the song made their way into her thoughts and began to sound familiar.

I know there’s something in the wake of your smile.

I get a notion from the look in your eyes, yea.

You’ve built a love but that love falls apart.

Your little piece of heaven turns too dark.

Listen to your heart when he’s calling for you.

Listen to your heart there’s nothing else you can do.

I don’t know where you’re going and I don’t know why,

but listen to your heart before you tell him goodbye.

Sometimes you wonder if this fight is worthwhile.

The precious moments are all lost in the tide, yea.

They’re swept away and nothing is what is seems,

the feeling of belonging to your dreams.

And there are voices that want to be heard.

So much to mention but you can’t find the words.

The scent of magic,

the beauty that’s been when love was wilder than the wind.

Savannah couldn’t remember when she dropped the play money that was in her hands. She couldn’t remember when her breath caught in her lungs or when the chills started to run up her spine. But the words that were being sung to her were clear as day in her mind and danced straight into her soul.

The pain it caused rippled in her and tightened her throat. She could not breath, let alone think, and was doing all she could to prevent tears. Yet no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t summon the strength to hold them back as she stared at nowhere in particular in wonder.

Marie didn’t bother to knock when she heard the end of the song. She just opened the door a crack and poked her head inside to see what Savannah was doing. Or better yet, if her plan had worked.

She knew that it was crazy, but somehow, she believed her best friend. Savannah had never been one to kid around much, at least when it came to the reality of a situation. Nothing was ever simply unexplainable to her and nothing could be on a whim. She had never believed in ghost stories or dealings with the paranormal. Fairytales were only made-up stories that had to have a moral at the end or a life lesson. Strange happenings that occurred to someone must have been either coincidences or illusions. Savannah could never imagine or create. She only looked at the facts and told people what was there, not what could be there. And she always planned ahead, never once allowing herself to do something, especially something extreme, on impulse.

Perhaps that was why Marie believed what Savannah had told her. Not once in their sixteen years of knowing each other had Marie ever thought of Savannah as delusional or unstable. In fact, she was always the opposite. True people snap all the time, but in her heart, she knew that Savannah had not snapped. For sixteen years, she had been the stronger one—the one who was more the protector and the knowledgeable one. Sophisticated, one would call her, or at the very least, mature. If a blind person had just met the two of them, they would think Savannah were older, if not for any other reason than simply for her developed mind.

The thought alone of her best friend inventing stories about herself was completely insane. Why would she do that? To gain attention? Actually, Savannah was more of the backstage type, not ever wanting to be in the light. To have people feel sorry for her, then? No, she had generally been the older sister to everyone in school, giving them advice and telling them to never ever feel sorry for themselves because it only showed weakness. So, it had to be true.

Besides, just because Savannah didn’t believed in magic or the make-believe didn’t mean that Marie didn’t. “Savannah?” Savannah turned, showing a face red and teary. “So it is true then, huh?”

Savannah sniffed. “What’s true?”

“Your story. About the locket and the prince and—”

“It’s not true, Marie. It can’t be.”

Marie leaned against the doorway of her bedroom with her arms crossed. “Oh yeah? Then why are you crying?”

Grabbing a tissue from her nightstand, she sniffed again. “I stubbed my toe.”

Her friend raised an eyebrow. “While you were sitting down on the floor?”

Raising herself up to the bed, “It happens” was her only reply.

“Aw come on, Anna, you’re telling me that everything in that story was a lie?”

Staring at the scattered money on the ground, she said, “Yes.”

Marie came up next to her with her arms still folded. Taking a seat on the bed beside her, she took her hands. “Look at me in my eyes, Anna. My eyes. Now, is that story true?”

For about a minute, Savannah did nothing more than stare into her eyes. She was frozen in her place, save for her hands that wouldn’t stop fidgeting with the sheets. She was hoping that, after a few more seconds, Marie would retreat from her argument and let her be.

No such luck. After another few intense moments, Savannah at last started for the hallway. Within the blink of an eye, her mood had abruptly changed to something a little more animated, although not pleasant. “Come on, Marie, why don’t you turn that c.d. off and put something else on,” she said, heading for the bathroom down the hall. “Maybe something cheery to lighten the mood.”

“Yeah, yeah,” her friend replied impatiently. Over the course of the past couple of days, the two of them had already successfully listened to just about all of the c.d.’s she had in her carrier. So, Marie rummaged through her bag to find something else to do and found nothing more in it but her clothes and a hairbrush. She only brought enough items to sleep over for a few nights and, of course, a black dress for Mrs. Morgan’s funeral. Besides, Savannah was the one who had all the good songs on her computer.

Deciding, not for the first time, that they had been friends long enough to rummage through each other’s belongings without rhyme or reason, Marie flipped through the magazines Savannah had placed next to her bed and sighed. She’d read all those ones already. Crossing to the tall, polished dresser, she thought she’d have better luck.

As she eliminated box after box of jewelry, knick-knacks, and collections, Marie came upon a rectangle music box that she recognized as being something new. Curiosity swamped her, suddenly feeling like there was something vital inside this box. Opening it, her eyes narrowed when the only item that was revealed was a piece of antique jewelry that reminded her of the Renaissance.

Mrs. Morgan’s locket. It was a beautiful oval necklace with a marvelous center outline. Yet it was not the charm of the design or the glimmer of its shine, but both the outer scrip and the center picture of the key that had her attention captivated. Hmm, the notorious traveling locket, Marie considered. That’s funny; I don’t remember it looking quite so … glowey the last time Savannah showed it to me. Or any of the thousand times I’ve seen Mrs. Morgan wearing it.

Careful as she picked it up, Marie ran a hand over its cover. Well, she thought, I guess I will just have to see if Savannah is really telling the truth or if she has officially gone off the deep end. With that, Marie did what any other snoopy teenage girl would do—she opened it.

Finding herself both utterly amazed and captivated, Marie backed a few steps away from the now-existent tie-dyed portal that stood right before her. So Savannah wasn’t making it up at all. There truly was a fantasy world. A smile crept over her face while she pictured the adventure her friend had described to her merely the day before. The terror, the excitement, the romance—it was all real … and it was everything that had caused her best friend’s pain.