Chapter 75

Today when I limp up the porch steps and collapse in the rocker, Jenna comes out on the porch and frowns.

"Do I smell that bad?"

"You can't keep doing this, Locke. Why are you working like a maniac? To prove to the world that you're human?"

I sit up straighter in the rocker. I hadn't thought of that, but it's probably true. Kara's words still haunt me. I can't just be a memory housed in a look-alike body. Technology gave me my life back, and each aching muscle, cut, and scratch seems like proof that I'm still human. "I suppose that's part of it," I answer.

She hops up on the railing across from me. "And the other part?"

The other part is easy for me to figure out. With Gatsbro no longer after me, and with Kara no longer dipping into my thoughts, I've breathed in freedom--the most I've ever felt--but almost in the next breath, as I work alongside Bone, I see how limited my freedom really is. "Anger is the other part, Jenna. I figure it's better to swing a pick into the ground than throw another chair through a wall."

"Well, thank you for that, I guess." She lifts her shoulders in a shrug, waiting for more of an explanation. "And the anger?"

"When I think about what Kara and I went through, even Dot, Bone, and the others, I suppose I thought the future would be different. I thought that--"

"That everyone would be treated fairly?"

"Something like that."

"The world's changed, Locke. It's always changing. Lots of things have gotten better, but just when we have one problem solved, a new one is created. Remember, I was illegal for ninety years, and then even after ten percent became legal, I still wasn't accepted. I was shunned and stared at, but change still came. It took years of work and persistence. Change doesn't happen overnight--it's molded by people who don't give up."

Unless they're cut short while they're trying to make change happen.

"Did you know Karden Sanders?"

Her eyes dart up. "What? How do you know about him?"

"Miesha told me. He was her husband."

She can't hide the surprise on her face. "Her husband?" She hops off the rail and sits in the rocker next to me, looking down at her lap. "Miesha and Karden?" Her brows are pulled together still in a shocked expression. "Yes, I knew him," she finally says. "He actually stayed here with me for a few weeks--under the greenhouse. He was on the move a lot. A couple of years later, I heard he had married, but I never knew what her name was. I was shocked when I heard of his death. It was tragic how he and his daughter died. I can't imagine what it was like for Miesha." She shakes her head in disbelief. "Karden's wife. I can't believe it. Why didn't you tell me before this?"

"I didn't know that you knew him, and it's not something she exactly likes to advertise. It's still painful for her even after all these years. She doesn't talk much about herself. Before we started running I didn't even know her last name. Miesha--"

Derring.

Miesha Derring.

Cory eventually married, had a daughter, and his daughter married a fellow named Derring.... I was able to keep track of his descendants up until the Civil Division.

The name slipped right past me the first time.

I did some searching, looking for leads to family--anyone I might be connected to ... especially one ancestor.

Me. She searched for me. And then on the train she asked me about my brother. No, I didn't like him. I didn't want anything to do with him.

After that she clammed up. But in the garden she tried again. There's something else about myself I need to tell you.

"Locke?"

I jump to my feet. "I'm going to shower. Then I'll help you with dinner." Before Jenna can say anything else, I leave, but I don't shower right away. First I go to Miesha's room. Her eyes are closed, and the stuffed elephant I tucked under her arm this morning has fallen to the floor. I pick it up and pull a stool close to her bed. "You dropped this," I say. I lift her hand and place the elephant beneath it.

She searched for me. She hunted for a connection. Somehow she tracked me down. She didn't give up and risked everything for me. Her hand slides off the elephant. "You're tough as three of these, Miesha." I look at her face, the gentle lines fanning out from her eyes. My very distant, distant, distant niece. She wanted to tell me. I lean over and kiss her forehead. Maybe tomorrow she'll wake up. "Don't give up," I whisper, and I close her door behind me.

After dinner I help Jenna with the dishes and tell her about Miesha. I know she probably hears as much frustration in my voice as she does happiness. If I had been legal, Miesha could have just walked off with me from Gatsbro's estate. I would have been free to leave. I would have been as full a citizen as anyone else. As it was, she had to sneak and plan and run. I don't want to wait ninety years for change to come. I want it now.

"Your niece?" Jenna shakes her head, soaking in this new information. "Miesha's full of surprises. Now I know why I liked her the minute I met her. I guess this makes you the oldest uncle in history."

It looks like I hold a lot of dubious records.

She washes the last dish and hands it to me. "Father Andre came by today. He was looking for you."

I swirl the towel in the bottom of the pot. "Me? What does he want--to knock me off?"

She grins. "Only a favor." She reaches over and flips the light off over the sink. "The Network has something they'd like you to do."

A favor. I had almost forgotten. I owe a lot of them. I hang the pot on a hook over the stove and lay the towel on the counter. "And what happens to me if I don't do it? Do they break my legs?"

She sighs, the dim light from the hallway illuminating the side of her face. "A lot has changed, Locke, but not everything. A favor is still a favor. You choose to give it or not. That's how the Network works. No one is going to force you to do anything."

"But?"

"But nothing. There's a Non-pact who needs help back in Boston. The Network thinks you have some special abilities that could do the job."

Boston. I lean back against the kitchen counter. I remember how I felt when I stopped the cheating baker and helped the Non-pact. Power. It's a mighty drug. And so is justice. It can consume you if you aren't careful. It's a dangerous path to navigate.

"You're considering?"

I look back at her. I can't imagine not being with Jenna. Walking in the woods. Talking. All those years I never dreamed I would see her again.

"I can't leave." I step closer. We've danced around this for weeks. I can't dance any longer. I put my hands on her shoulders. "What about you? What I really mean is, what about us? Jenna..." I lower my head, but just before my lips meet hers, she turns away. I grab her chin and turn her face back to me. "Jenna, you know how I feel about you."

She shakes her head and pulls away. "Locke, it just isn't right."

"How can it not be right--"

"Just because someone looks the same on the outside, it doesn't mean the inside hasn't changed. I may look like the Jenna you knew so long ago, but I'm lifetimes from that girl. I'm two hundred and seventy-seven years old now."

"And what do you think I am?"

"It's not the same."

She starts to walk away. I put my hand up against the wall to block her. "Says you. You have no idea what it was like spending two hundred sixty years trapped in a box."

"You're right. I don't. But I know it wasn't living. It was only existing." Her words grow softer and slower. "Locke, you need to experience the world on your own terms. You deserve the chance to live a life."

There is distance in her voice, like she is already pushing me away. My chest tightens. "I'm not the sixteen-year-old boy you used to know, Jenna! The past two hundred sixty years have changed me too! This last year has changed me!"

"Then tell me, Locke! What are you? A boy? A man? Something else?"

I stare at her. Her chin is lifted, almost mocking, waiting for me to answer. My hand slides away from the wall. "I don't know."

"And that's what you need to find out," she whispers.

We stand there, silent seconds ticking past us.

"I'll still be here in ten or twenty years, if you want to come back," she says. "But I can't take this away from you. You've already lost too much."

Words stick in my throat. I'm losing everything at once.

"Father Andre needs to know by the end of the week. Think about it. Let me know." She leaves to go to bed.

I go to my room, but I lie awake the whole night, staring at the ceiling. It doesn't matter that my room is dark--I see every dimple, every uneven plane, every hairline crack that travels across the plaster and vanishes into nowhere.

She's willing to let me go. She almost made it sound like a sacrifice. I can't take this away from you. Does she see something in me that I can't see myself? That there are only so many trenches to dig, so many rock walls to build, so many chairs I can throw against walls? She has lived three lifetimes. I haven't lived one.

You deserve the chance to live a life.

I can't imagine a life without Jenna, but I can't deny that when she said Boston, something inside me jumped. Home. A place where some remnant of my life might still exist, or if nothing exists, maybe it's a chance to move on. You need to experience the world on your own terms. That's what Kara and Jenna and I had just started to do when we were cut short. I had only a small taste, and Kara and Jenna are what made it happen. They made me braver. How can I do it without them?

My eyes travel over the hairline cracks again and again, like I'm following the lines of a map. They all lead me back to Boston. Someone needs help. A favor. The choice is mine. But it's more than just a favor. It's a purpose. Not my parents' purpose, or Gatsbro's, or even Kara's. It's a purpose that makes sense to me, and it is my own to choose--or not. It would be safer, maybe even wisest, just to say no, but then I think about Bone, the other Non-pacts, Kara, Bots like Dot who become something more--they're all the same. All nonpersons, like me. Change doesn't happen overnight--it's molded by people who don't give up.

I roll over on my side and face the dresser. My pack rests on top. Change may not happen overnight, but I can't wait ninety years for it to come to me. I kick back my blankets and wrestle with the sheets that have become tangled around my legs, and just before dawn, I finally fall asleep.