Ida, who no longer wanted to be a part of this sentimental parting, pulled Fargus away and began marching him purposefully south.
Josephine waved good-bye, and as she watched a grinning Fargus wave back at her with his gloved hand, she suddenly felt very strange. She felt the way one does when one has forgotten a dream, but then something in real life suddenly reminds one of that dream, and the whole night’s adventure comes rushing back like a wave.
Josephine felt the need to return home immediately.
FIFTY
Nowadays, if one asks the people of Gulm about the night the children came home, one will get many versions of the story. Some will say it was early morning and others will say it was the dead of night. Some will say it was raining, while many claim it was the clearest night they’d ever seen. The part they can agree upon is this:
The people of Gulm were in their beds, tossing and turning, unable to sleep, as they had been for twenty years, when they heard a rustling outside. Some of the older folk thought it was just a strong wind. Whatever it was, it went racing through the alleyways like a bubbling brook. The people were afraid and they bolted their doors, convinced it was soldiers or, worse yet, a plague.
And then the knocking began.
Someone, something, was knocking on all of their doors. The women screamed and the men pushed them back into the bedrooms for safety, even while their own knees were shaking.
Later Louise Millamud claimed it was she who opened the door first, but everyone knew her for a coward. Edwin Starch said he was the one. He explained that he was right up against his door, with his ear against the wood, listening to the sound of the bubbling brook whooshing by, when he began to suspect that it was not water at all but voices. And then he concentrated harder and realized that the bubbling voices were actually people giggling. Convinced he was going mad, he flung open the door, shaking a large rake over his head.
But instead of the devil he expected, he saw children. Dozens of them, running through the streets, knocking on doors. He had to rub his eyes, because for a moment he thought he saw little Ignatius Powell from next door, unchanged from the day he’d been taken. He called out to him and the boy waved.
Edwin was sure he was dreaming and was ready to poke himself with his rake when his own son arrived—a gangly boy with protruding ears. Georgie Starch. Edwin placed his hands upon his own face to feel the wrinkles that the past twenty years had brought, wondering if maybe he had gone back in time. And then his wife screamed. She had tiptoed up behind him and had seen Georgie standing outside. While her husband was frozen in shock, Hattie Starch ran straight out to the boy and threw her arms around him.
And this scene was repeated up and down every street of the town. Mothers sobbed and smothered their lost children into their bosoms. Fathers stood agape, quiet tears running down their cheeks, as they waited for a turn to touch their rescued sons and daughters. Orphaned children from the Institute remained with friends they had made in the manor and were welcomed into local families as if they were their own. Word spread quickly of the demise of the Master. Angus the bellman ran up the tower and swung back and forth on the rope connected to the bells, filling the air with triumphant chimes.
Ned walked through the throngs of ecstatic reunions, Lucy walking beside him. He had never seen such emotion. He looked at his neighbors, people he had known these many years, and saw color returning to their cheeks. For the first time in Ned’s life, laughter filled the streets.
He and Lucy found their way to the alley that led to his apartment. Ned had never been happier to see his front door. Lucy stood beside him, timid but more lucid than when he had found her. He fumbled with his keys, hands shaking with anticipation. He felt the click of the last lock and pushed open the door.
“Father!” he yelled, but there was no one there. “Hello?” he tried again. “Dad, where are you? I have a surprise!”
But Morgan was nowhere to be seen. Ned’s heart sank. “Come on in,” he told Lucy. “You can sit wherever you like.” She followed him in and tried not to show her immense disappointment that Morgan wasn’t there. She asked to use the bathroom and Ned pointed the way.
Ned was perplexed. Where could Morgan be? He started to worry. He knew that Morgan had not expected him to ever return. What if he had done something stupid?
At that moment the front door opened and there stood Morgan, in his best suit, with a stupid lopsided grin on his face. At first, Ned thought maybe he was drunk. But then, to Ned’s horror, he saw the reason for his father’s gaiety. Beatrice was right behind him, and she was wearing . . . a wedding dress!
“Dad!” Ned cried.
“Neddy?” Morgan looked at him in shock and then delight and then anger. “What are you doing here? You promised me you would go with Josephine to safety!”
“But Dad—”
“No buts, Ned. You LIED to me.”
“I lied to you? What about her?” He pointed to Beatrice. “What’s going on?”
Morgan looked at Beatrice, grinned, and said to Ned sheepishly, “After you left, I finally understood that life is short. And it’s too short to live alone. So I asked Beatrice to marry me.”
Ned slapped his forehead with his hand. At that moment, Lucy emerged from the bathroom. Morgan and Beatrice turned in alarm toward the stranger.
“Who’s that?” Morgan demanded.
“I’ve been trying to tell you, but you’ve been too busy with your stupid nuptials!”
“Trying to tell me what?”
“The Master . . . he’s gone. And so are the Brothers. And this here . . . this is Lucy.”
It was too much information for Morgan to absorb all at once. He looked at the little girl standing in his living room. “That’s madness, Ned! How could this child possibly be my—?” But he stopped short and looked at her again.
She had dirty blond hair and freckles and the same look his sister used to get when she woke out of a nightmare. Morgan felt as if he were seeing a ghost. “What is this? Where did you—how did she—” but he couldn’t finish. He ran to Lucy, picked her up, and twirled her in his arms.
“Lucy! Lucy! Is it really you?”
“Put me down, Morgan!” she cried. She sounded much older than the Lucy he remembered and he put her down immediately.
She grabbed a chair to get her balance back. “I don’t know what the fuss is about,” she said. “I haven’t changed one lick. You’re the one who’s become as old as Father!” Morgan laughed, amazed to hear her voice. Lucy put her tiny arms around his neck and hugged him furiously. “I’ve never been happier to see anyone in my whole life.”
Beatrice cleared her throat, and Morgan remembered she was there. “Lucy, I would like you to meet my new wife, Beatrice.”
“New is right,” Ned cracked. “Less than an hour, by my reckoning.”
“Ned! Don’t be rude!” Lucy admonished. She walked over to Beatrice and gave her a hug too. “Lovely to meet you. I am Morgan’s sister, Lucy.”
“Sister?” Beatrice asked, befuddled.
Ned sighed, realizing that fighting the inclusion of Beatrice into his family would be futile. “Why don’t I make some tea and explain it all to you.”
Everyone nodded, but Beatrice said, “No, I’ll make the tea. Ned, you sit down and tell your father what’s happened before the poor man has a heart attack.”
