Chapter Six: Darkness/Light
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One moment, the Penderwicks were sitting in the warm glow of lamplight in their living room, enjoying a platter of slightly burnt cookies. Next moment, there was nothing. The houselights went out without warning, throwing them all into crushing darkness.
Skye blinked, remembering the blizzard warnings on television that morning. An angry red banner had wound its way across the screen below the newscaster's smiling face: ninety-five percent chance of blizzard conditions in their geographic location, combined with brutal winds and frigid temperatures. The forecast had apparently caught up with them.
There was an ominous click from the radiator, after which it went silent all together. Without that layer of warmth, brumal cold began seeping into the room like noxious gas.
"Everyone alright?" Mr. Penderwick's voice floated out of the darkness, oddly distorted without a body to go along with it. Skye heard the twin thumps of his feet as he placed them on the floor and rose from the sofa, clothes rustling.
"Where's the door?" he muttered, sounding exceptionally baffled.
"Somewhere behind you," replied Rosalind. "Go to the left and—"
There was a crash, followed by a muffled oath.
"Are you okay?" Jane asked from somewhere to Skye's right. "Are you concussed? Should I go get—"
"Be quiet, Jane." Skye rolled her eyes, her sarcastic gesture lost in the total darkness.
"No, no, I'm fine. I just confused a bookshelf for the door, that's all. I'll find my way out eventually. Maybe if I just—ah."
They heard the dull, defeated click of the useless light switch and a well-spoken and very familiar bit of invective.
"Te futueo et caballum tuum." Their father's favorite piece of Latin profanity.
Jane smothered a giggle.
"Hold on," said Skye, remembering the miniature flashlight she kept in her sweatshirt pocket in case of the apocalypse. She extracted the cylindrical device from her pocket and clicked it on, much relieved to see her family's faces illuminated by its feeble glow.
"Wonderful," said Mr. Penderwick. He staggered along the perimeter of the room and toward the door, stumbling into the yawning darkness of the hallway.
"We must have candles around here somewhere," he called over his shoulder, and wandered off, clattering through the gloom.
"Mommy loved candles," Jane said, unbidden, and Skye shot her a sharp look.
"She did, but she didn't like having them around because there was a great possibility we'd knock one over and burn the house down."
"Not a chance," sniffed Jane, plucking the tatty, maroon blanket from where it was draped over an armchair and unfurling it. "I was very careful about those sort of things."
"You still put metal spoons in the microwave," Skye reminded her.
Jane looked affronted and wrapped the blanket around Batty's hunched form.
"Are you cold, Batty?" asked Rosalind.
Batty nodded, curls bobbing.
"Of course she's cold. These are practically Arctic conditions." Skye cast a longing glance at the fireplace. "If we hadn't plugged up the chimney we could light a fire to warm things up."
The little flashlight flickered in warning, and she gave it a dark look, tapping it against her palm and groaning as the beam snuffed out. Fortunately, their father materialized in the doorway seconds later, a candlestick clutched in each hand.
"Don't set these down," he warned, holding one out to Rosalind and the other to Skye. "The slightest movement can upset the balance of a taper and the next thing you know the whole place is an inferno."
"Candlesticks." Skye blinked, pulling a face as she considered the likelihood of them having such a thing. They seemed incredibly old-fashioned and more reminiscent of A Christmas Carol than modern day.
Jane made a small noise of pleasure as she admired the candlestick in Rosalind's hand. "This is marvelous! Where have you been keeping these, Daddy?"
Mr. Penderwick laughed. "The real mystery is how I got lucky enough to come across them. I had no idea we still had candlesticks. Elizabeth must have gotten them years ago."
His mouth twisted in an odd little smile. Noticing Batty under the blanket, he knelt and peered into her eyes. "And how is my beautiful Batty?"
"Cold," Batty managed, her jaw tight with the effort it took not to shiver. Beside her, Hound whined his agreement.
"Rosy, take your candle and go gather all the blankets you can find. We'll have to sleep here tonight—the bedrooms are too cold to be useful for anything except preserving cuts of raw meat."
Rosalind whisked off, and Mr. Penderwick pulled an assortment of multicolored votives from his pockets. He lit a match and fed the flame to each wick until there were little pools of mellow golden light chasing off the twilight.
"Much better," he said cheerily, slipping out of his jacket and draping it over Jane's tee shirt clad shoulders.
Jane stopped shivering, tipping her head to smile at their father before the view beyond the window caught her eye, making her stare. Her expression was enough to make Skye turn, and the two of them observed the blizzard whirling down outside, worse than before—a dense curtain of white that twirled in the wind's dying gasps.
"Where are you going?" Skye asked, as Batty wrapped the blanket tightly around her and stood. She climbed over the chaos of furniture, socked feet padding across the floor before she pushed the window casement open.
"Geez, Batty, it's sub-zero weather out there. Close the window before we—"
"Shhhh." Batty leaned against the windowsill, outlined by the gunmetal grey murk of the town beyond. She looked ethereal, as though summoned up by the storm itself. She was so silent and still that she looked as if she was carved from marble. Only the delicate shift of muscles with every breath and the occasional blink told a different story.
The tranquility was so unusual that Skye climbed to her feet, abandoning the sofa and gripping the narrow taper tightly as she navigated her way to Batty's side.
Not keen on being left out of anything, Jane nudged in on Skye's other side, staring out at the swirl of snow.
Skye leaned on her elbows and looked out as her breath steamed in the air.
"What are you doing?" she asked, sighing when Batty gave her slanted kind of look and gestured to the world outside. "It's just snow."
She gave the weather a sullen stare and shivered as the wind invaded the house, chasing a small whirl of flakes. "In case you forgot, we live in the northeastern part of the country. We've seen snow a million times."
"Don't look," said Batty. "Listen."
Skye swallowed a sigh, reluctantly doing as she was told. Her eyes fluttered shut and she let her other senses rule: the faint scent of burning wood and the creak of branches in the wind, taste of ice on each breath melding with the icy gusts that tickled her face. Jane nestled closer, resting her head in the soft curve between Skye's head and shoulder.
For once, Skye let her be.
Abruptly, the hush of rustling fabric overwhelmed them as they were enfolded in a large quilt.
"Better?" whispered Rosalind, squeezing into the narrow space on Batty's left side.
"Shhhh," Batty said for the second time. "We're listening."
"Ah," said Rosalind. "Sorry."
The sisters fell quiet.
"What exactly are we supposed to be hearing?" Skye muttered after a moment. "There's the wind, but other than that it's—oh!"
Her eyes snapped open, and Batty's smile told her she had been inexcusably slow. Batty had not been expecting them to hear anything. It was the absence of noise that was astounding. The blizzard did to Cameron what nothing else could achieve. The town had stopped.
There were no sounds of traffic, no hum of buses and cars. No flights roared overhead on their way to better places, and even the few persistent street lights could do little more than cast faint halos amidst the fluff of snow.
"It's so quiet," Jane whispered, as Skye balanced her candle on the narrow windowsill. The flame flickered, a small beacon of warmth and comfort in a city reduced to wilderness once more. "There's nothing to hear."
"Almost nothing," Mr. Penderwick corrected.
Skye hadn't noticed him sneak over to join them. Iridescent flakes had caught in his dark hair, making him look as if he was sprinkled with diamonds. He put his hands on Batty's shoulders. "Listen again."
Skye did as he said, running a thumb over the hem of the quilt as she strained her ears. It took a few moments, but at last she heard it. It was odd, like the glassy hum of sand blowing across the ocean dunes. A silky static filled the air; a faint hush that hissed in Skye's ears and reminded her of the time she had passed out while putting on her war makeup for Jane's ridiculous play.
"What is that?" asked Jane.
"The noise snow makes as it falls," Martin said with a shrug. "I don't think there's a word for it in English."
"Peace," Rosalind supplied after a moment's thought. "Not quite silence, but almost."
"I can't believe it's so quiet," murmured Batty. "We could be the only people left in the world."
"At least I would be in good company," said Mr. Penderwick.
He smiled, and it was not a false, forced grin as was so often painted on his face since the death of Elizabeth Penderwick, but a beautifully real one that made Skye's heart burst a little.
"Agreed," she said, raising her candle so it illuminated their frost pinkened faces.
The year was heading towards its inevitable end but, within the shelter of Gardam Street, the Penderwicks entrusted themselves to each other's care. Together, they drew closer to the gleaming promise of a new beginning.
"Now who's getting sentimental," whispered Jane, giggling when Skye threatened to push her out the window.
Sometimes, all it takes is one moment for everything to change. Darkness lifts, and in the light of realization, a whole new path appears for those bold enough to take it. No one could be sure of what lay ahead, but now more than ever they were ready to find out, ready to lay sadness to rest and plunge bravely into the future.
A gentle tease, a warm laugh, and in the fragile glow of a thousand emerging stars, their world changed for the better.
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(A/N): I'm sorry for the fluff. Truly. :D Think of this as an apology for all the avant garde AU madness I put you through. Several things inspired this chapter. My best friend gave me the prompt "hope" which made me think of the dichotomy of darkness and light. I decided to use it in a physical sense-blizzard blackout and candle light-as well as metaphorical. Sometimes I use words in the spirit of their meaning rather than their concrete definitions. No, I'm not sorry. :) The idea for the snow storm was born out of the recent cold snap we've been having here in America. The "family love, new beginning" thread at the end was partially inspired by U2's beautiful new song: Ordinary Love. Please give it a listen. It embodies a lot of the emotion I felt for the Penderwicks while writing this. The rest was simply down to my own feelings for these characters. Bless them. ;)
Also, "Te futueo et caballum tuum" basically means "Screw you and the horse you rode in on." Great, isn't it.