Wake Unto Me by Lisa Cach Read Free Book Online

thrift-store parka. Her breath steamed in the frosty air, and as she watched it dissipate, she felt a curious dissociation from her body, as if she were an alien looking out of someone else’s eyes. She’d had the same sensation before in stressful times.
    Someone grabbed her shoulder, bringing her back to herself. She was shivering, and the smell of stale cigarette smoke in the driver’s clothes filled her nose. He assessed her with narrowed eyes. “Are you sick?”
    Her eyelid twitched and fluttered. She shook her head, then promptly bent over and retched, her airplane breakfast of omelet and orange juice spilling onto the cobbles and splashing his shoes. He swore in French and hopped out of the way. She was dimly aware of his leaving her, calling out, and knocking at a door. Hands on her knees, her long straight black hair hanging around her face, she stared at the ground and breathed deeply, trying to get the nausea under control, until female voices and hurried footsteps made her raise her head.
    A plump middle-aged woman with short, fluffy blond hair trotted toward her, her rosy face puckered in concern. Behind her, moving more slowly, was a tall elegant woman in her thirties, with pale skin and dark red hair pulled back into a chignon at the base of her neck. Caitlyn recognized her from her photo on the school’s Web site: she was the headmistress, Eugenia Snowe.
    Oh, great! Good first impression you’re making, Caitlyn. Way to shine. With a shaking hand she wiped her mouth and stood up straight, forcing a smile to her lips. Her eyelid twitched again. “I’m so sorry,” Caitlyn said. “Is there a hose? I’ll wash it away.”
    The chubby blond clucked in dismay, reaching her. “Child, it’s not for you to worry about.” She put her palm on Caitlyn’s forehead and then lay the back of her hand against Caitlyn’s cheek. “No fever. How long have you been unwell?”
    “I’m okay, really,” Caitlyn said, feeling a tingling in her skin where she had been touched. Her last traces of nausea seemed to have vanished, too. “The long trip …,” Caitlyn fibbed, unwilling to admit she was as tense as a guitar string. “Maybe a bit of carsickness?”
    “And jet lag,” the lady said. “It is very common with our students who come from a great distance.”
    Caitlyn nodded, glad for the excuse. She gathered her nerve and looked at Madame Snowe. She was afraid that the headmistress was already suspecting that she had wasted a scholarship on her.
    The headmistress was looking at her with one auburn brow slightly raised, her dark brown eyes seeming to see through her. She was wearing a thin maroon sweater and a black pencil skirt, the clothes setting off her slender curves. She seemed not to feel the biting cold, despite the ice pellets dusting her hair and shoulders. “Are you quite recovered?” she asked, a hint of a French accent in her voice but not much concern.
    “Yes, thank you.” Caitlyn clasped her hands tight together, trying to still their shaking.
    “Let’s go inside then, shall we?” Madame Snowe turned to the driver. “The mademoiselle’s bags, if you please,” she said in French and, without waiting for an answer, headed back into the building, her posture as perfect as a ballerina’s.
    Caitlyn and the blond woman followed. Caitlyn heard the trunk of the car pop open and grimaced, remembering what was in there. She sent a fervent wish heavenward that Madame Snowe would abandon her for other duties before catching sight of her tattered luggage.
    They went through a side door into a surprisingly mundane lobby that looked like a medieval dentist’s waiting room. In front of a vast, empty stone fireplace a few pieces of tapestryupholstered furniture surrounded a coffee table with magazines. To the left, a high counter and glass receptionist’s window blocked off an office area. Beside that was a wall of antique post office boxes with glass windows and brass trim. On the opposite side of