The kitchen was not even half full-an oddity for this time of the morning. But I barely noticed that, because the smell coming from the banked stone oven overruled every other thought.
“Oooh,” Jamie moaned. “Eggs!”
Jamie pulled me faster now, and I had no reluctance to keep pace with him. We hurried, stomachs growling, to the counter by the oven where Lucina, the mother, stood with a plastic ladle in her hand. Breakfast was usually serve-yourself, but then breakfast was also usually tough bread rolls.
She looked only at the boy as she spoke. “They tasted better an hour ago.”
“They’ll taste just fine now,” Jamie countered enthusiastically. “Has everyone eaten?”
“Pretty much. I think they took a tray down to Doc and the rest…” Lucina trailed off, and her eyes flickered to me for the first time; Jamie’s eyes did the same. I didn’t understand the expression that crossed Lucina’s features-it disappeared too quickly, replaced by something else as she appraised the new marks on my face.
“How much is left?” Jamie asked. His eagerness sounded a trifle forced now.
Lucina turned and bent, tugging a metal pan off the hot stones in the bottom of the oven with the bowl of the ladle. “How much do you want, Jamie? There’s plenty,” she told him without turning.
“Pretend I’m Kyle,” he said with a laugh.
“A Kyle-sized portion it is,” Lucina said, but when she smiled, her eyes were unhappy.
She filled one of the soup bowls to overflowing with slightly rubbery scrambled eggs, stood up, and handed it to Jamie.
She eyed me again, and I understood what this look was for.
“Let’s sit over there, Jamie,” I said, nudging him away from the counter.
He stared in amazement. “Don’t you want any?”
“No, I’m -” I was about to say “fine” again, when my stomach gurgled disobediently.
“Wanda?” He looked at me, then back at Lucina, who had her arms folded across her chest.
“I’ll just have bread,” I muttered, trying to shove him away.
“No. Lucina, what’s the problem?” He looked at her expectantly. She didn’t move. “If you’re done here, I’ll take over,” he suggested, his eyes narrowing and his mouth setting in a stubborn line.
Lucina shrugged and set the ladle on the stone counter. She walked away slowly, not looking at me again.
“Jamie,” I muttered urgently under my breath. “This food isn’t meant for me. Jared and the others weren’t risking their lives so that I could have eggs for breakfast. Bread is fine.”
“Don’t be stupid, Wanda,” Jamie said. “You live here now, just like the rest of us. Nobody minds it when you wash their clothes or bake their bread. Besides, these eggs aren’t going to last much longer. If you don’t eat them, they’ll get thrown out.”
I felt all the eyes in the room boring into my back.
“That might be preferable to some,” I said even more quietly. No one but Jamie could possibly hear.
“Forget that,” Jamie growled. He hopped over the counter and filled another bowl with eggs, which he then shoved at me. “You’re going to eat every bite,” he told me resolutely.
I looked at the bowl. My mouth watered. I pushed the eggs a few inches away from me and then folded my arms.
Jamie frowned. “Fine,” he said, and shoved his own bowl across the counter. “You don’t eat, I don’t eat.” His stomach grumbled audibly. He folded his arms across his chest.
We stared at each other for two long minutes, both our stomachs rumbling as we inhaled the smell of the eggs. Every now and then, he would peek down at the food out of the corner of his eye. That’s what beat me-the longing look in his eyes.
“Fine,” I huffed. I slid his bowl back to him and then retrieved my own. He waited until I took the first bite to touch his. I stifled a moan as the taste registered on my tongue. I knew the cooled, rubbery eggs weren’t the best thing I’d ever tasted, but that’s how it felt. This body lived for the present.
Jamie had a similar reaction. And then he started shoveling the food into his mouth so fast it seemed he didn’t have time to breathe. I watched him to make sure he didn’t choke.
I ate more slowly, hoping that I’d be able to convince him to eat some of mine when he was done.
That was when, with our minor standoff over and my stomach satisfied, I finally noticed the atmosphere in the kitchen.
I would have expected, with the excitement of eggs for breakfast after months of monotony, more of a feeling of celebration. But the air was somber, the conversations all whispered. Was this a reaction to the scene last night? I scanned the room, trying to understand.
People were looking at me, a few here and there, but they weren’t the only ones talking in serious whispers, and the others paid me no mind at all. Besides, none of them seemed angry or guilty or tense or any of the other emotions I was expecting.
No, they were sad. Despair was etched on every face in the room.
Sharon was the last person I noticed, eating in a distant corner, keeping to herself as usual. She was so composed as she mechanically ate her breakfast that at first I didn’t notice the tears dripping in streaks down her face. They fell into her food, but she ate as if she were beyond noticing.
“Is something wrong with Doc?” I whispered to Jamie, suddenly afraid. I wondered if I was being paranoid-maybe this had nothing to do with me. The sadness in the room seemed to be part of some other human drama from which I’d been excluded. Was this what was keeping everyone busy? Had there been an accident?
Jamie looked at Sharon and sighed before he answered me. “No, Doc’s fine.”
“Aunt Maggie? Is she hurt?”
He shook his head.
“Where’s Walter?” I demanded, still whispering. I felt a gnawing anxiety as I thought of harm befalling one of my companions here, even those who hated me.
“I don’t know. He’s fine, I’m sure.”
I realized now that Jamie was just as sad as everyone else here.
“What’s wrong, Jamie? Why are you upset?”
Jamie looked down at his eggs, eating them slowly and deliberately now, and did not answer me.
He finished in silence. I tried to pass him what was left in my bowl, but he glowered so fiercely that I took it back and ate the rest without any more resistance.
We added our bowls to the big plastic bin of dirty dishes. It was full, so I took it from the counter. I wasn’t sure what was going on in the caves today, but dishes ought to be a safe occupation.
Jamie came along beside me, his eyes alert. I didn’t like that. I wouldn’t allow him to act as my bodyguard, if the necessity arose. But then, as we made our way around the edge of the big field, my regular bodyguard found me, so it became a moot point.
Ian was filthy; light brown dust covered him from head to toe, darker where it was wet with his sweat. The brown streaks smeared across his face did not disguise the exhaustion there. I was not surprised to see that he was just as down as everyone else. But the dust did make me curious. It was not the purple black dust inside the caves. Ian had been outside this morning.
“There you are,” he murmured when he saw us. He was walking swiftly, his long legs cutting the distance with anxious strides. When he reached us, he did not slow, but rather caught me under the elbow and hurried me forward. “Let’s duck in here for a minute.”
He pulled me into the narrow tunnel mouth that led toward the eastern field, where the corn was almost ripe. He did not lead me far, just into the darkness where we were invisible from the big room. I felt Jamie’s hand rest lightly on my other arm.
After half a minute, deep voices echoed through the big cavern. They were not boisterous-they were somber, as depressed as any of the faces I’d read this morning. The voices passed us, close by the crack where we hid, and Ian’s hand tensed on my elbow, his fingers pressing into the soft spots above the bone. I recognized Jared’s voice, and Kyle’s. Melanie strained against my control, and my control was tenuous anyway. We both wanted to see Jared’s face. It was a good thing Ian held us back.