Literary Giants 34 - Hamilton
McQueen helped Kylen to her feet, guided her to the table and sat her in a chair. He wrapped her coat around her shoulders.
"You should go upstairs - try to get some sleep," McQueen suggested.
"You jest."
"Just a thought," he offered.
Kylen crossed her arms on the table and rested her forehead down on them. Her face was hidden. McQueen got some ice, poured himself another drink and, again, sat across from her.
"You should tell Howard about this, shouldn't you?" she asked without raising her head.
"I've known about this longer than Major Howard, and I outrank him. I don't have to tell him jack," he said softly. "Radford, on the other hand, could ask me directly - could order me - but I seriously doubt that he will," McQueen thought.
"I should probably tell him that I figured this out," she whispered into the tabletop.
McQueen reached out and rested his hand gently on her arm. "Duty says that you should," he thought, but he said: "You don't have to tell him jack either, Kylen."
Kylen sighed deeply. "Do you think this was a test?" she asked, still not looking up.
McQueen moved his hand, placing it gently onto her head - a benediction. He wondered if, indeed, Howard had given Kylen just enough information - to see if she would put it all together. But, then again she was simply too smart, too intuitive, not to put it together on her own. "A test on at least two levels," he thought, "Can she put it together and can she stay in one piece after she does? Howard may have tried to test her, who knows. But she most certainly tested herself." McQueen absently stroked her hair.
"I honestly don't know," he whispered.
Kylen shifted slightly underneath his hand, trying to bury her head in her arms. This was reality. There were horrible truths out there - huge horrible truths. But this was reality - Dale's kitchen, broken dishes, the smooth, hard table beneath her arms, the smell of Dale's ancient woolen robe, the warm coat over her shoulders, and the strong gentle hand stroking her hair. This was a real place - a safe place - in the storm of chaos. McQueen and Kylen sat together in the quiet of this tiny safe harbor.
Kylen slowly raised her head. She looked at McQueen and pushed back from the table. Kylen stood and slowly walked toward the door. McQueen stood with her, but she waved him off. "Excuse me a moment," she murmured. The Pink Bunny on her right foot squeaked with every step. She moved unsteadily to the guest bathroom.
A moment later McQueen heard her retching. "Well, at least that's over with. Adrenaline. I was wondering how long before she got sick," he thought. He began to rifle through the cabinets.
Kylen hadn't had time to close the door, so urgent had been her feeling of nausea, but nothing had come up. She was left with a terrible taste in her mouth nonetheless. Kylen was washing her face by the time McQueen looked in on her. He handed her a box of baking soda. "It's all I could find," he said.
"Thanks, it covers a multitude of evils," Kylen said - and she briskly brushed her teeth with her finger and the baking soda.
She finished, rinsed her mouth and looked into the mirror. By a little shifting of her focus, Kylen could see both her own and McQueen's reflection. "Mirror, mirror." She reached up and touched McQueen's face on the surface of the glass. "The Mirror of Fears," she whispered. Kylen then sweetly, as one would speak to a child, recited a quotation that obviously gave her comfort. "I am a Hostage, snatched from death, I am light's child and heaven's breath."
"I don't know the author," McQueen said. He could imagine Kylen in the dark, in the mines, repeating those words to herself countless times. Comforting herself.
"Annie Hamilton."
She watched his reflection change as his question became evident. "A fairytale?" he asked.
It's all fairytales, Six," she answered and turned from the mirror. McQueen had to flatten himself against the doorjamb as she moved past him. She was on her way out the door - without a coat - before he could stop her. McQueen caught up with her on the back porch. Kylen was leaning out over the railings searching the sky.
"Kylen, now is not the time. Kylen, it's freezing out here." McQueen reasoned.
"Of course it's freezing. It's December. This is New England, and it's going to snow tomorrow too. Christian told me so," she said. "That's why I want to see it now. I need to see it tonight - to know that it is still there."
"See what?"
"My star. I want to see my star. It has to still be there. Everyone would know if it was gone. It has to still be there."
"Your star?" he asked.
"Yes, my star. You can't see it from here. Come with me." Kylen marched back into the house. She ripped a coat off of a hook in the back hallway and tossed it to McQueen, secure in the knowledge that he would be behind her. "You'll need this, I think."
Kylen ripped open the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of champagne, which she almost shoved into his hands. "This too. I won't be sick," she said in such a way that McQueen totally believed her. She put the coat McQueen had given to her earlier over his arm. "Follow me."
Kylen trounced up the stairs and down the hallway, the Pink Bunny singing its accompaniment. McQueen, arms loaded, followed behind. He wondered if he could ever again watch Kylen move through the world without hearing that little squeak. Kylen paused at the linen closet, yanked open the doors, and pulled out two knit afghans. "These too, I think."
She opened the attic door and went up the stairs, trailing McQueen in her wake. Kylen was so determined - so driven while performing these mundane actions that at another time he would have been on the edge of amusement. Her quicksilver changes occasionally irritated him, sometimes exhausted him, but generally entertained him. Tonight these shifts worried him. He had no choice but to follow - to see where she was leading.
Kylen passed by the old furniture and trunks belonging to generations of the Steinbeck family. She came to a halt in the middle of the attic and looked up at the ceiling. "There," she said, pointing at metal ring attached to the ceiling. "I can't reach it without standing on something." Kylen took the wine from McQueen. He pulled on the ring and a narrow collapsible ladder descended. He unfolded the stairs. "He brought down the stairs to my star," she thought, smiling to herself. Kylen handed him back the champagne and started up the narrow treads.
If it had been anyone else, McQueen would have asked how they knew that the staircase existed - but Kylen would know. Of course, she had searched the house.
"It's OK. Dale gave me permission," she called down to her companion. McQueen followed her up.
End Chapter Thirty-four
