Immortal Beloved Read Free Page A

older sister, Eydís, asleep in the bed we shared. Had it been a peal of thunder? I loved storms. I looked at the narrow window, sealed with small, thick panes of real glass. Light flickered outside. Lightning? More like fire?
    The sound came again, a huge, hollow boom that shook our bed. I saw Eydís blink sleepily, and in the next moment, the door to our room flung open. Our mother stood there, her eyes wide, long golden hair flowing down her back from beneath the small linen cap she slept in.
    â€œMóðir?â€

 
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    CHAPTER 10
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    O h, Nastasya, help !â€

 
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    CHAPTER 11
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    A re you going to stay?â€

 
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    CHAPTER 12
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    I had landed on a different plane of existence: the River dimension. I had to relearn so many habits and patterns—to pick up after myself because there was no maid, to clear my plate after a meal, to leave my shoes by the door so I didn’t track in mud or worse.
    My new clothes survived the laundry much better than my Jean Paul Gaultier jumpsuit and cashmere sweater, which I had thrown through the washer and dryer. The sweater had come out small enough to fit Jasper, who nowwore it proudly, flouncing around in hot pink Chanel. I hoped he wouldn’t skunk it up.
    There was no cable TV, only a handful of fuzzy local stations. River did have a computer in her office, and one could sign up on a sheet to use it. I didn’t need it for anything. We got the local paper every day, and out of extreme boredom I found myself poring over the latest crop reports, reading about whose cow got loose, whose barn got struck by lightning, and what grade-school teacher was going to run for city council. The London Times had been full of wars, government scandals, celebrity arrests, society weddings, race reports. It had all seemed like a blur—prime ministers came and went, the people rose up in protest and then settled back down. Here, the smallest inconsequential blip on the screen was treated like stunning breaking news.
    People were starting to teach me things that I’d never wanted to know: the names of the stars, patterns of the sun’s movements, names of trees and plants and birds and animals. How to gather herbs and hang them to dry. How to focus your attention on a candle flame. Yoga. Meditation, which I hated. But every time my inner spirit rebelled, which was, like, eighty times a day, I was always struck by the fact that I couldn’t bear the thought of doing anything else, being anywhere else. So I just sucked it up and kept doing whatever needed doing, until I could find a reason to leave. Until it didn’t feel scary to leave.
    One morning my job was to gather eggs from the henhouse. River kept about thirty hens. They ran free in the yard, pecking up insects and being annoying. At night they roosted in their boxes, locked in to protect them from weasels, foxes, hawks, stray dogs, and so on. Our own dogs held them in contempt, naturally, but never attacked them.
    Anyway, every morning some poor sap (today, me) had to muck through the low henhouse, always warm, humid, and smelling of feathers and straw and chicken poop. Not even I could stand up in it, and by the time I’d stuck my hand into every nest, sometimes under a determined hen who wouldn’t leave her roost, my back was killing me.
    â€œYou, shoo!â€

 
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    CHAPTER 13
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    W hat? Get a… job? An actual job? Why?â€

 
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    CHAPTER 14
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    T hat evening at dinner I was able to report triumphantly that I had a real minimum-wage job. Nell laughed, then quickly swallowed it at Asher’s glance. River gave me a knowing smile, and Solis looked appeased. I had a silly burst of pride that I’d actually done something right. For once.
    â€œYo, sweetie, load me up,â€

 
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    CHAPTER 15
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    I don’t know if Old MacIntyre was surprised to see me the next morning, on time, but I myself was shocked as