The Explorer's Apprentice

19: Invitation

To bigblueyes1 'cause I know how much she loves this song. x) ---> 

Arabelle D’Ewes

 Arabelle blinks into the sudden light. She’s lying flat on her back, for some reason, smack in the middle of the walkway, and the first thing she wonders is, Am I dead? Several worried faces hover above hers. One of them is speaking. Its hair briefly eclipses the sun.

“Belle? Belle can you hear me?”

“Of course mother,” she says. Her tongue doesn’t move how she wants it to, and the words slur. “Stop fretting.”

Rose, the Bukater girl, kneels down beside Arabelle. Even sitting, Rose still has several inches on Belle. “How do you feel?” Worry lines etch the elegant face, concern clouding the gray eyes.

Belle shakes her head, at a loss for words. Fine. Fantastic, actually. Refreshed. It’s like some great burden has been lifted… It’s like my mind has been cleared of all worries… It’s like I’ve finally forgotten an annoying song that’s been stuck in my head for years…

She opts for “Fine.”

Rose bites her lip, as if she doesn’t quite believe her, but simply nods and helps the girl to her feet.

“My goodness, Arabelle!” her mother wails, fervently brushing down Belle’s dress. “Are you alright? Did you hit your head? Do you need a doctor? My poor baby!”

“Mother!” Arabelle scolds. The slurring has stopped, though now the back of her head begins to throb. She puts on a steely face, determined not to show her pain for the fear of more embarrassment.

“Belle, listen to me,” her mother says, placing a lacy glove on Belle’s forehead. “Now you stay right here while I go fetch the nurse, okay? Right. Here. Don’t move. Take deep, even breaths. If you feel dizzy again, put your head between your knees—”

“Yes, mother!” Arabelle interrupts. “I’m not seven, you know.” She watches the retreating back with a shake of her head, wondering how they came to be related.

As soon as Arabelle’s mother is around the corner, Ruth takes Rose’s arm away—quickly, possessively, like a feral cat reclaiming its prey. “It is awful hot out, isn’t it? Rose, dear, we really ought to get inside.” She looks at Arabelle down her pointed nose, as if somehow she’d dropped lower down the food chain.

Rose can’t stop the flicker of disgust on her face, one that only Arabelle notices.

“Don’t faint,” the two girls say to each other, in unison.

Rose’s face melts into a smile, exactly matching the little grin on Arabelle. Oh yes, Arabelle thinks, as Ruth drags her daughter away for an afternoon of tea and small talk. I think you finally got one right, Mother. I think we will be friends.

Left to her own devices, Belle decides to take her mother’s advice. She claims a seat on an inviting-looking bench and stares off into the ocean. She loves the way the morning mist rolls off the waves, banished by the noon sun, blurring the horizon until you can’t tell where earth starts and the heavens end. No wonder, centuries ago, philosophers and scientists thought the planet was flat. The way it looked, some mornings, she rather can imagine falling right off the edge. The ocean makes her think of fairy tales, and angels.