Chapter 21 – Revelation
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“I don’t see it.”

“There,” I pointed, stabbing an accusing finger at the place near the ceiling. “The crack, right there.”

“Still don’t see it.”

“It’s gone!”

Aubrey rolled her eyes. “Well that’s probably why I don’t see it.”

I sighed in frustration. “No, I’m saying it was there this morning, and now it’s gone. It disappeared when I painted it.”

She squinted. “You did a good job, then. The paint matches perfectly. Or did you do the whole wall?”

“Let me start over.” I described the events of the morning, my long session in the workspace painting a version of this very room, and the adjustments I made to the crack. “It’s like somehow, what I did on my painting affected the actual room.”

Aubrey shook her head. “That’s just not possible.”

I held up my necklace. “Uh, hello?” I was wearing it openly now, on a shortened cord that placed it just in the center of my tan, V-neck top. “There is such a thing as magic, apparently.”

“Granted, but there’s a big difference between magic existing, and you being able to do it.” She peered at the wall, considering. “Could you do it again?”

I shrugged. “I don’t actually know what I did the first time. I wasn’t even really intending to paint this room, it just sort of happened.”

Suddenly, Aubrey’s expression changed. “Kind of like, you didn’t know what you were going to do, but then you figured it out as you went along?”

“Yes, just like that.”

She nodded slowly. “Then maybe I’m not going crazy myself. I had something weird happen the other day too, but I was convinced I was just making it up.” Aubrey took a deep breath. “I was working on assembling a new image. You know the way I create vector paths in photographs, clip them, and layer the pieces into a new image?”

“I know you’ve said those words in that order before. Didn’t understand it then either.” I held up a hand to silence her explanation. “But I know the style you mean. Sort of like the photographic equivalent of a ransom note.”

“Sure. Anyway, I was just playing around, not quite sure what I was going to do. But then a kind of image started to emerge, and as I became aware of it I started chasing it, you know, refining it. It was two men, with their backs turned, heads down. The lights were low so I couldn’t see where it was, but somehow I knew they were talking about me.”

“Paranoid much?”

“Hey, I thought you wanted me to believe your crack story.”

“Sorry, sorry. The two men were talking about you.”

“Exactly. Anyway, I finished it, and it was past midnight, but I was wired, so I went downstairs. The lights in the residence were off, but there were these two shadows, like people, just standing there, and I heard a murmur.”

“Well that’s sufficiently creepy. What did you do?”

“Nothing. At least, I didn’t have time. The light flipped on, and it was just Nicholas and Gerald.”

“Standing around talking to each other in the dark.”

Aubrey made an elaborate shrug. “Guess so. But here’s the weird bit. Gerald look around and said, ‘Oh hey June Bug, we were just talking about you.’”

I considered this. “So you think your photo might have, what, made them go downstairs and have a chat about you in the middle of the night?”

“Not exactly. More like, the image showed me something that was happening, or was about to happen. I didn’t get the feeling like I changed anything. It was more like... I don’t know, like tuning a radio, where you hear a little something as you go by, and you can make little adjustments to get a signal you can hear.”

That didn’t sound like what I had felt at all, but at the same time, I wasn’t willing to completely discount it. “There’s just something odd going on around here,” I said finally. “Anthony seemed to know when I took off the necklace, and about the time I went away for that week last year, he left, and no one has seen him since. Madge had my address when I had never given it to her. And Nicholas, he seemed to know that I was thinking of leaving, like he had read my mind. But he wasn’t surprised when I came back, either.”

Aubrey considered. “Should we ask somebody?”

I shook my head. “Too risky. I don’t want to draw any extra attention to this,” I said, pointing to the necklace again.

“I guess we’ll just have to wait and....”

Aubrey’s words were interrupted by a knock at my door. We glanced nervously at each other. “Come in!” I called. “We’re back in the bedroom.”

Madge entered, and quickly crossed the living room to the open threshold of the bedroom. She was wearing a dress, I noticed, unusual for her. She took in both of us at a glance. “I’m glad to find you both here. We need to talk.” Her voice was unusually somber.

I eyed Aubrey again. “Is everything all right?” she asked. “Did something happen?”

“We can’t discuss it here. It requires a meeting of all fellows. Meet us downstairs in fifteen minutes.” Her eyes flicked over both of us. “You might want to put on something nice. This will be a formal occasion.” And with a grave inclination of her head, she departed.

“They’ve found me out,” I said in a small voice, the moment she was gone. “They know I’m not supposed to be here and they know you helped me. This is going to be some kind of trial or something, I just know it.”

“Now who’s paranoid?” Aubrey said, but her voice was not sure. “But I guess we have to go. What are you going to wear? Hurry and pick something out, and then we’ll stop by my room. I’d rather stick together, I think.”

What did one wear to her own execution? I went through my closet mechanically, trying to think I of everything I had learned about what was appropriate in women’s clothing. Business suit? Something more casual? How could I tell, without knowing the occasion?

But eventually, I decided on simplicity, and inspired by Madge, just picked out a simple dress. Black, which seemed appropriate regardless of the circumstances. The little black dress, perfect for any occasion. I pulled it on quickly, and then tightened the cord on the necklace to set the medallion up a little higher. I left my hair down, no makeup, no other jewelry. Simple.

We stopped off at Aubrey’s room, where she chose a skirt and top. Her clothes skewed younger than mine, and the more formal style did not quite suit her. She looked like she was applying for a scholarship, or at her first job interview. I shared none of this with her, of course. We took the final flight of stairs down to the common area with heads held high, like aristocrats walking to the guillotine.

Everyone was standing when we arrived. Even Gerald was not draped over the nearest surface, but standing with arms folded, face inscrutable. Nicholas bore an uncharacteristic impassive expression. Josephine’s eyes gave away nothing. Perhaps she was the French peasant ready to let drop the blade? Darren was there too, and if he wore an encouraging smile, it was countered by the way he shifted his weight from foot to foot, like he was nervous about something.

Madge stood in the center of the room, hands clasped in front of her. She was holding a file folder, never a good sign. As we entered, she directed us to stand in front of her. Nervously, I noticed that all the others were arranged in a semi-circle in front of us.

She cleared her throat. “Today, something happened that has not taken place in all of the history of Belmont House. It left me wondering how to proceed, and after some discussion with the fellows, I believe we now see a path forward.”

“Aubrey,” she said. “You have been with us for six months now. Cayley, you have been with us for five. In that time, the foundation has been providing for you, room and board and supplies, with the expectation that you would use your talents, in part, to support the good of the foundation. Thus far, however, that support has gone unreciprocated. Until today.”

I could almost have laughed. They had not found me out. And yet, I was still being dismissed. I hadn’t pulled my fair share, so out I went. I risked a glance at Aubrey, whose eyes were fearful, swimming with unshed tears.

“Today, Aubrey and Cayley, you have both made your first sales as fellows of Belmont House. As such, we are happy to welcome you fully into the fellowship. Both of you, on the same day, which as I said has never happened before.” Suddenly, Madge broke into a smile. “On behalf of the foundation, I would like to congratulate you on this achievement.”

And with that, all five began to applaud, faces beaming welcome. I felt as if a string holding me up had been suddenly cut, and suddenly I was clinging to Aubrey, both of us bawling our fool heads off, as these men and women we had come to regard so much gathered round to deliver their congratulations.

I jumped at the sound of a loud pop, but it was only Gerald with a bottle of champagne, and suddenly there was a glass in my hand. Josephine was kissing the air on either cheek, and Nicholas was clasping my hand in both of his. Darren gave Aubrey a quick one-armed squeeze, but I got a full hug. The top of my head was barely at the level of his chin, and my mouth and nose were pressed tight into the fabric of his turtleneck. I could barely breathe and my ribs ached with the strength of the embrace, but I made not a sound in protest. I just closed my eyes and inhaled as best I could, drawing in a warm and pleasant aroma that sent spikes of adrenaline shooting down my fingers and toes.

We broke apart, leaving me to stumble back a little breathless, with the memory of his arms still fresh around my waist.

“I’m so happy for you,” he told me, all smiles and sincerity. “And you beat me, by the way. It took me eight months.”

“I thought sure I was getting fired, or kicked out, or something,” I confessed, taking a sip of champagne to restore my equilibrium.

“They did the same thing to me. I think it’s a hazing thing. Or maybe it’s just that everything Madge says has this undercurrent of deadly seriousness.”

“Yes!” I exclaimed, gesturing with the wrong hand and nearly upsetting my glass. “She’s got that sort of gravitas, you know? Like Mary Poppins if she were a 60 Minutes newsanchor.”

“Uh huh. You’d never catch her talking like a pirate, though.”

“Unless it was to give a lecture on the roots of 18th century Caribbean piracy and its legacy in modern Somali.”

Darren took on an affected African accent. “Look at me, I’m the Belmont Fellow now.”

We shared a chuckle. I was struck by how lucky I was to have two best friends in my life. It was hard to decide which was more important. Aubrey was sweet, like every bit of cake and chocolate and fruit on the dessert bar, all rolled up into one. Her company was an indulgence, something I craved when it was gone.

But Darren, he was a savory friend. We didn’t hang out as often as I did with Aubrey, but the times we did spend were filling and satisfying in a way I didn’t get from Aubrey. And while days and evenings spent in Aubrey’s society often involved putting off whatever project I was working on, time with Darren was always full of some sort of creative payoff. Maybe we played guitar and flute together, or sang, or maybe we just painted or sculpted in each other’s company. There were fewer words between us, although the words we did exchange were fun, intellectually stimulating and emotionally stabilizing.

The fact was, I needed them both, the yin and the yang, for my own emotional well being. And yet I still felt that something was missing. It wasn’t from Aubrey, either. We already told each other pretty much everything, and I couldn’t really see where else that particular friendship could grow. But with Darren... I sensed there was more out there, a deepening of the connection we had, just out of reach.

He was still standing close. I could move forward a step and be within inches of his broad chest. I could stand on tiptoe, place my hands on his shoulder, bring my lips to his. The lingering feel of his hug, the sparkle in his eyes, told me it would be well-received.

We were alone, or near enough, isolated in a corner of the room while Aubrey held court with the others. All at once, I was even more aware of just how close he was, how tall he was, how good he smelled. I remembered how it felt to be pressed up against him and I wanted it to happen again, wanted it to keep on happening and never stop.

But something held me back. Just as I leaned forward, some rush of emotion I did not recognize surged up, and I rocked back.

“Cayley...” he began.

The door burst open. Standing in the threshold, carrying a stack of canvases under one arm, was Anthony. He scanned the room, seeing the knot of people in the center, dismissing them, and then fixing an eye on me. He looked angry, fearful, resolute.

The others had noticed his appearance by this point. “Anthony!” Gerald cried out in glad welcome. “You’re just in time for the party! Pull up a glass.”

But Anthony made no move to take the proffered champagne flute. He never stopped staring at me, and I stepped back involuntarily, moving to Darren’s side as if he might somehow shield me.

“Anthony,” Madge said, stepping towards him. “What on earth is wrong?”

“It took longer than I thought,” Anthony said, moving around Madge so as not to lose sight of me. “But I finally found the right perspective.” He flipped through the canvases under his arm until he found one that he wanted. I couldn’t see it, but he held it at the ready.

“What is all this about?” Nicholas asked, setting down his glass and moving towards Anthony.

In answer, Anthony pointed straight at me with his spare hand. “She,” he said, voice dripping with scorn, “is an impostor. Caroline never selected her as a fellow.”

“That is preposterous,” Madge burst out, even as Josephine cut in with, “Have you any proof?”

“Oh, I have proof,” said Anthony. “It took some time, but I found the right place, the right time to get perspective of that night. The night when Caroline passed on her fellowship to her true successor. This GIRL,” and he gave the word a twist, “could not possibly be that successor.”

Aubrey sent me a pained, helpless look. I could tell that she wanted to do something, anything, but could not possibly think what she could do. Well, there wasn’t anything. But now that it came to it, I was calm. The worst thing that could possibly happen to me was happening. I could have expected it — before Anthony arrived, all of my dreams were coming true. I had flown too close to the sun, and now my wings had melted. All of the decisions had been made, and only short way left to fall.

“Before you continue to make accusations, Anthony, perhaps you could produce this proof you found,” Madge demanded.

“With pleasure. With the right perspective, I was able to paint the scene easily. Caroline’s true successor is actually...” He flipped over the canvas. “A man named Ben Davenport.”

I stared at the painting. It was me, dressed as I had been on the night of my art show. My eyes were a little strained, my cheeks rosy from the wine I had drunk. The wall of watercolors was arrayed out behind me. Every pore was represented, every hair I had missed while shaving, rendered in extreme detail.

“A painting?” Aubrey said. “How does his painting prove anything?”

But the others did not respond. They looked from the painting to me, and back, and slowly their expressions dissolved from confusion, to wonder, to accusation.

My mind whirled. Suddenly, I realized that the big secret I had been hiding was no secret at all, that my disguise had only held me apart from a right I had truly been giving. I could have laughed at the irony of it all.

But I realized there was only one course open to me, and it was nothing to laugh about. Finally I spoke into the silence.

“You’re right that I’m an impostor...,” I began.

“Ha!” cried Anthony, but I talked right over him.

“An impostor, but not in the way you suppose. You see....” My hands trembled as they raised, almost of their own accord, to my neck. I hooked my thumbs around the cord of the necklace and pulled it over my head. Everything I was feeling, anxiety and fear and worry and loss, seemed to come away along with the skin, leaving me numb and empty.

“You see,” I said again. “I am Ben Davenport.”

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