Page 95 of The Manor of Dreams

A younger version of her mother turned. Her mouth was sealed in an angry line, her shoulders taut. Her raw, mangled palms faced the sky. Fresh blood spurted through her fingers. The remains of the roses lay at her feet. Rennie looked into her mother’s dark and fathomless eyes and choked back a scream. When Ma opened her mouth, clods of dirt spilled through her lips. She coughed and convulsed.

When she finally spoke, her voice was low and hoarse. “It’s for you, bao bèi. Everything I’ve done, I’ve done for you.”

NORAcouldn’t take another day of being shut out. She woke up and went straight to her ma’s locked door with a cup of water. She heard the rustling of paper. Okay. Ma was up. Nora would talk sense into her.They would be fine without this house. They always were, weren’t they? A week ago, they hadn’t even known that owning the house was a possibility. They would leave this place and go back to that reality.

“Ma.” She knocked. “I know you’re up. Let me come in.”

Her mother continued to shuffle. Nora held the cup with one hand and knocked, harder.

No answer. “Let me in!” Her voice rose each time she repeated it. She banged on the door until it shook on its hinges. The handle rattled loose, but the lock held. When the door finally sprang open, Nora pitched forward. The cup fell and shattered. Hot water splashed everywhere.

“What have you done?” Her mother lurched forward to sweep the papers out of the way.

Nora looked up.

What remained of her mother’s notebook lay gutted on the bed. Next to it was an open blue ballpoint pen. The pages, marked with dried bloodstains, had been ripped out and flung to every corner of the room. Her mother looked at her, her eyes wild, blood smeared under her nose. Her graying hair had come completely loose out of its bun. “Ma,” she whispered. She took in this frightening image. “Are you okay?”

Her mother blinked at her.

“Let’s—” Nora tried to keep calm. “You don’t look good. Let’s go get you cleaned up.”

She reached for her mother, but Ma didn’t budge. Nora tried tugging on her. With a sudden force Ma pushed her away. “I’mbusy.”

Nora staggered backward.

“It’s the seventh day,” her mother intoned. She rolled her eyes up, toward the top floor. “They’re leaving tomorrow.”

Nora steadied herself. “Andweare leaving with them.”

“We’re staying. This house isours.”

Nora grasped her mother by the shoulders. “Are you listening to me? I don’t want this house. I don’t want to be here. We can sell this place or—or give it back to them, but we can’t stay here. Look at you!This place is dangerous.”

Her mother wrested herself from Nora’s grip. “These are plans forourfuture.”

Nora surveyed the scene. “I don’t care about the plans.” She lunged forward, grabbed a fistful of the sheets and tore them.

“Stop!” her mother cried. Nora grabbed another fistful and ripped them. The shreds fluttered around them like leaves. “We need to get out of here.” She reached for another pile of paper, but before she could pick them up, her mother shoved her. Nora fell, hard.

She froze for a moment, dazed. Her mother stood over her.

“You ungrateful child,” she spat. “I’m doing this all foryou.”

A small prick of pain radiated through Nora’s palm. She picked her hand up from the floor to find that a jagged shard from the broken cup had punctured her skin. A drop of blood welled up. Nora pushed herself up, wiping her hands on her pants. “And I’m telling you I don’t want any of it. So stop.”

They stood across from each other, their chests heaving.

Nora looked at the thin trickle of blood that crept down her palm and then out past her mother, through the window.

Madeline had been right. Therewerevines. A thin blanket of them now wrapped around the stone railings of the terrace. The tendrils reached toward the house. It was as if the garden was closing in on them.

You’re going fucking insane, she told herself.They’ve always been there.

But when she thought back, she knew they hadn’t.

Nora tried her last resort: “I’m leaving tomorrow. I’m taking the car. Come with me or don’t. It’s your choice.”

thirty-seven

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