She looked stricken for a moment, and he knew that he was giving away too much on his own face. For perhaps the first time in his life he found that he didn't care. She was about to answer the most important question he had asked in his life.
Her face softened, and she reached for his cheek with one hand. "Michael…," she began.
He had dreaded what she might say, but he needed to know the truth. "It's a simple question, Maria: yes or no?" he pressed, keeping his voice steady with effort. He held his eyes on hers. Whatever happened, he wanted to see it coming. For a moment, she was silent, and he felt his life hanging suspended on a wire, waiting.
He didn't have to wait long this time.
"No," she said in a soft voice.
Michael felt like he had been hit in the stomach by a truck. As he was still absorbing her answer, she said softly, "I'm sorry, Michael."
He wanted to say something, to change her mind, or maybe to hurt her, but his defenses were gone. All he could do was stare at her face as tears ran down her cheeks.
"I love you," he said, surprised that he could speak at all. He took a deep breath. "I would die for you."
Suddenly she screamed, reached out with both hands, and shoved him. Already close to the edge of the bed, he felt himself fall backward and landed hard on the wooden floor.
"What the…," he sputtered in surprise.
Maria peered over the bed, looking down at him. He tested his limbs to make sure he wasn't hurt.
Getting to his feet, he asked, "What? You're upset that I would die for you?" His momentary confusion was making him forget what had just happened between them.
"Why are you in such a rush to die, Michael?" Maria said, anger flashing across her face.
By the time Michael got to his feet, she was on hers and leaning into him.
"I'm not in a rush to die, but… "
"But you'd die for me?" she spat back at him.
"I would," he said.
"What about Max? Would you die for him?" she shouted.
"Yes, of course," he said, without thinking.
"Let's say you died for me, or Max, or some stray dog… where does that leave me, Michael?" Maria said.
"Well, I mean… I don't think it's going to come to that," he said, no less confused than he had been before this conversation had taken its bizarre turn.
"But it is, isn't it. You are going to die. Liz saw it in her vision," Maria said.
"She also saw you going over the balcony, but I told you I wouldn't let that happen."
"Let's say you don't. Then what? And let's say you prevent Liz's vision of you from coming true. You still don't get it. You think you're the tough one: Sonny Corleone, the hothead, the fighter. You've practically got 'Most Likely to Die' tattooed to your forehead," Maria said.
"Everybody dies, not everybody… "
She cut him off, tears running down her face. "I'm tired of this macho crap. What if I don't want a dead boyfriend?" she sobbed.
"Maria," he said, reaching out for her with both hands.
She pushed his hands away. "Get away from me. Get out of here," she said.
Michael felt anger replacing his confusion. "You know, this is crazy… even for you." He turned and reached for the door.
"Don't think for a second that you're going to be leaving me alone in this room in this place."
Without turning around, he replied, "I thought you said… " He felt a pillow hit him in the back of the head.
"You can sleep on the floor, Spaceboy!" she said.
Michael wanted to rush out of the room. He didn't have to take this from her, but that would mean leaving her alone. And there was Liz's vision to consider. For a moment, he weighed his desire to storm out against the additional danger that that might mean for her.
It was close, but Michael decided to stay. His decision made, he slowly closed the door and turned out the light. When he turned around, he just caught the blanket that came sailing at him.
10
Kyle paced in his room. He didn't like the idea of Isabel being in her room all alone. The Special Unit might be on to them. And the house was creepy, over-the-top horror-movie creepy.
And wasn't that the first rule of horror movies: No matter what happened, you never went anywhere alone. Otherwise…
Then again, I'm alone, he thought. But that was different. It felt different, anyway. Maybe he had seen too many horror movies with his dad. Michael and Maria had argued about who died first: the smart aleck or the mean girl. From what he remembered, they both usually went pretty early.
What about the Buddhist ex-jocks? he wondered. And what about beautiful, half-human/half-alien hybrids?
Kyle found he couldn't even smile at that. Isabel was being foolish. If they stayed in pairs, they couldn't be taken one at a time… there would always be one person who could fight or call the others.
Taken by whom? he wondered. He didn't know, but he couldn't shake the feeling that they were foolish to take
any chances. Then, before he was aware that he had even made a decision, he found himself grabbing a pillow and a blanket. By the time he reached the bedroom door, he knew what he was going to do.
Out in the hallway, he headed down to Isabel's room. Passing Michael and Maria's room, he heard shouting. Well, it's nice to see people sticking to their routines.
Then he was standing in front of Isabel's door. He wanted to knock but he knew what would happen if he did. Instead, he scoped out the floor. There was also an Oriental carpet in front of the door, for which Kyle was grateful. Tossing the pillow down, he wrapped the blanket over his shoulders and lowered himself to the floor. This wouldn't be too bad, he realized. He'd slept on his share of floors, and the carpet here was pretty thick.
Putting his head down, Kyle realized he was tired after all. Well, he felt better about relaxing now. He would know if anyone came to Isabel's door. Kyle closed his eyes and let himself fall asleep.
Isabel had barely opened the book when she heard creaking outside, but chalked it up to her friends moving around in this old house. She doubted the Special Unit would be so quiet if they came in.
Looking back down at the book, Isabel started reading the entry that the book had opened to when it felclass="underline"
March 15, 1938
Father would not be pleased. I have not written in
over a week. When I was growing up, I never would have considered such a lapse. Of course, I never thought I would still be maintaining a journal at all at my age.
Father was so certain that every detail of each of our lives as Bentons was worthy of record. Even as a boy, I thought the idea silly. However, I maintained the daily journal religiously… out of fear of him, if for no other reason. Now I am much less afraid, but only slightly less religious in my record keeping.
I'm not as sure that posterity will be interested in my life, but perhaps the children will be when they are older. If nothing else, it may amuse them.
Well, Claire has finished decorating the house. This was probably the greatest test of my bride. When Father built the house as a gift for the birth of the baby, I told my dear Claire that we would not have to live here if she didn't like it… especially knowing Father's peculiar tastes.
And when I saw that the finished home was grand but owed more to Baron Von Frankenstein than Frank Lloyd Wright, I made the offer again. Claire refused. She recognized that the house was a gift for her, and a peace offering from Father. And considering how against our union he was, I had to admit that it was a huge step for him.
"Besides," she said. "It has great character, it will be our own castle. I think it will be very comfortable."
Isabel looked up for a moment. Isn't that how she had thought of the house? Comfortable. Again, Isabel had the
odd feeling that there was someone other than her friends sharing the house with her. She continued reading.
And she has made it so. The children love their rooms and they have spent long days having "adventures" on the grounds. Though I never would have thought it possible, this place is home. I have no doubt that we will never live anywhere else.