The Truth Against the World by Sarah Jamila Stevenson Read Free Book Online

“I’m fine. We’re dealing with it.”
    â€œOh. Uh. Okay.” Rae sounded disconcerted, and I was perversely glad, even though it really wasn’t her I was upset at. Not entirely.
    I hung up the phone, flopped back on the bed, and turned out the light. The three weeks left until the end of the school year felt like an eternity—slogging through final projects and essays I couldn’t bring myself to care about, waiting in the wings for Rae. Watching Gee Gee get sicker.
    At least someone was reading my blog now. I’d have to decide whether to answer his email or not.
    I’d only been lying on the bed for a minute when raised voices started filtering through my open door. I lifted my head. Mom and Dad were having what they called a “reasoned debate” in the kitchen. Dad sounded annoyed. I got up and crept to the door. Their voices got quieter, rising and falling, until I heard Dad say something like, “If that’s where she wants to stay, we’ll find a way! We have to. It’s what Dad and Granddad would have wanted.”
    â€œI know it’s no question for you ,” Mom said, “but you’ve got us to think about. And your mother, too. She always had a good relationship with Rhiannon before your father passed.” There was a tense silence. “Anyway, she’s going on that Alaskan cruise and the timing couldn’t be worse. I just wish we were … ” Their voices dwindled to a murmur again.
    I sighed. Even the littlest things were a big deal now—what we ate for breakfast, the type of pillows on Gee Gee’s bed. The amount of time I was spending on the computer, which my mother blamed for my lack of sleep.
    I returned to bed and twisted onto my right side, then my left, trying to get comfortable. I was not going to give in and turn on the light tonight. Instead, I composed sentences in my head using my limited vocabulary. Maybe this Gareth character spoke Welsh. I could try to email him in Welsh tomorrow and see what happened. For instance, I could say:
    Mae Cymru yn hyfryd. Wales is lovely.
    Mae’r tywydd yn braf heddiw . The weather is fine today.
    Dw i’n hoffi te. I like tea.
    I must have been dozing. My mind went fuzzy for a while, free-associating, and then I heard a voice, singing:
    Ar lan y môr mae rhosus cochion .
    I sat bolt upright and looked around. Of course, nobody was there. My room was dark and empty; the house was silent. It had sounded like … well, it had sounded like Gee Gee, singing me to sleep the way she had when I was little. I touched my face and felt tears on my cheeks.
    When I lay down to go back to sleep, I couldn’t help hearing the haunting, soft melody as I slipped into dreams, a woman’s soft voice singing low and sweet.
    Ar lan y môr mae rhosus cochion Ar lan y môr mae lilis gwynion Ar lan y môr mae ‘nghariad inne Yn cysgu’r nos a chodi’r bore.
    Beside the sea there are red roses Beside the sea there are white lilies Beside the sea my sweetheart lives Asleep at night, awake at morning.
    This dream was different; new. I was walking by the sea. A field of white flowers. My footsteps made no sound, but waves crashed and wind whistled.
    The smell of salt air; the faint tang of nearby farmlands. Real enough to touch.
    On a clifftop stood a man and a woman. The man, tall and rangy with short brown hair riffled by the breeze. The woman with long black hair and a homespun dress.
    Nearer now. The man and woman were Gee Gee and Great-Grandpa John, but younger, like in old photos. The woman held a baby in her arms, and both their heads were bent toward him.
    Then somehow there was a little girl standing there, too, but the couple still did not look up. The little girl was thin, frail, and her face was contorted with anguish. She opened her mouth but I couldn’t hear what she said. The girl reached out to the couple, but suddenly they receded into the distance.