Part 23
If the previous night was intimate and tender, the breakfast in the small nook in the kitchen is quiet and pensive. Miranda feels preoccupied, her mind running different scenarios of what might be the reason for the stalker—or stalkers. She has no idea if it is one person or several, that's behind it all.
"I received a text from Rosalee last night," Miranda says, finally looking up at Andrea who looks as lost in thought as Miranda felt a moment ago.
Andrea blinks and then her focus is back. "She okay?"
"She's arrived at her destination. That's all she wrote, but I would assume if she'd run into trouble, she'd allude to it." Miranda drinks the last of her coffee and pours half a mug more. "More coffee?"
"No, thank you, I'm fine." Andrea taps her lower lip. "Did you tell her about the people that were after us yesterday?"
"No. Or at least not yet. Why?"
"Because she may have had something happen, and reasoned like you do—keeping the information close to the vest." Andrea stands and rinses her mug. "She might not trust you, or us, completely. Or at all. Or she may be the one behind it." She turns around, leaning her hip against the counter. "Isn't that one of the potential scenarios you were busy sifting through earlier?" The way Andrea tilts her head makes her hair fall like a golden brown waterfall over her right shoulder.
"You have got to stop reading my mind," Miranda says dryly. In reality, she's shocked at how accurately Andrea manages to reason in the same tracks. "And you're right. Yes, I did worry that Rosalee somehow, if not maliciously, but for being careless, helped put us in this situation."
"You don't know her anymore, I suppose. I mean, tons of time has passed. She may have used us to throw the scent off herself. It's not nice, but it's human. I mean, self-preservation." Andrea moves to stand behind Miranda, placing her hands on her shoulders. She doesn't start a massage but caresses her gently.
"Yes. I thought about that too. Another possibility is if Iris's death wasn't an accident—but manslaughter or murder. One of the emails that was delivered to Rosalee held a very obvious threat and the reason was the Amaranthine Law, which the sender saw as an abomination."
"This law…can you tell me about it?" Andrea sits down but remains on the same side of the table.
Miranda isn't sure about pulling Andera further into this mess by sharing the details of the 'law' she and the other girls that survived the plague on the ship, once wrote. They were all around ninety years old and fully aware that the chance they might not die for a very long time. "If you're certain."
"I think the more I know, the more I can help you." Andrea runs her thumb along Miranda's cheekbone. "Please."
"Very well." Miranda pulls the ledger that sits at the other end of the rectangular kitchen table, to her. Opening one of the first pages, she looks down at the ornate, rather pretentious handwriting. "The Amaranthine Law. Paragraph one. It is forbidden to discuss our longevity with anyone outside our group of nine. The punishment of such betrayal will be delivered by the very people we live among, as their tolerance for the true nature of our fate will undoubtfully mean certain death." Miranda hasn't read through the laws in many years, knowing them by heart, there has been no point. Now when she does, the feelings of dread, of truly being an abomination in the eyes of the world, and mostly, in her own opinion as well.
"Want me to read? You're shaking." Andrea places a hand on top of Miranda's.
"I'm all right." Miranda can feel Andrea flinch and understands that she's used her most lethally soft tone. "Truly." She clears her throat. "Paragraph two. New identities must be obtained when a certain amount of time has passed and well before speculations among the people around us start to question our longevity. There can be no socializing or relationship with anyone from our former life. Paragraph three. Potential property and wealth should be donated to deserving individuals. If there are enough funds to not raise suspicion, the option to leave them to be inherited by our next persona can be invoked. Paragraph Four. We shall not interfere in each other's lives or draw attention to one another. If it is at all possible to die, we must let each other know. Addendum one. At least seventy years must pass before we are allowed to return to a place we've lived in before. Addendum…two." Miranda stopped reading and leaned back, away from the ledger.
Andrea moved closer. Placing her finger under the sentence, she continued reading. "Addendum two. Do not marry or put children into this world. We shall not bring this misfortune onto others." The last words come out as a whisper.
"Exactly. Exactly that."
Andrea wraps her arms around Miranda who finds herself in a tight embrace. "I don't care. This was penned by women who were trying to survive a world that could banish or kill them at the drop of a hat. Times are different now—"
"And yet, someone is there to make sure I don't forget. That Rosalee doesn't forget. And perhaps that's exactly what they taught Iris. And I can't risk you. No matter what happens to Rosalee or me, we have lived long, rewarding lives in the midst of all the insanity, but you…are twenty-five years old, Andrea. You have your entire life ahead of you." Miranda clutches at Andrea, her actions belying her words, but she means every single one of them, even if it shreds her heart to pieces.
Andrea is quiet, but holds on just as tight. Miranda has endured a lot of pain throughout her long life, but nothing has prepared her for the searing agony of pulling back from this embrace. When she puts enough inches between them to be able to think rationally, she suddenly knows what they must do. She lets her usual control slip back into place and she can tell the second Andrea notices it, as her face grows still and pale.
"The day to finally part hasn't come yet," Miranda says stoically. "How do you feel about going to Switzerland?"
xxxxx
Continued in part 24