Gathering Blue - Lois Lowry [43]
Perhaps she felt that she had completed her job by teaching Kira, Jamison pointed out solemnly. Sometimes, he told her, it was the way death came: a drifting-away when one's tasks were accomplished. "And there's no need to burn her cott," he added, "because there was no illness. So it will stay as it is. Someday you can live there, if you like, after you've finished your work here."
Kira nodded, accepting his words. The old woman's spirit, she realized, would still be in her body. "She'll need a watcher," Kira pointed out to Jamison. "Could I go and sit with her? I did for my mother."
But Jamison said no. Time was short. The Gathering was coming. Four days could not be lost. Kira must work on the robe; others would do the watching for the old dyer.
So Kira would mourn all alone.
After Jamison had gone she sat silently, remembering how solitary Annabella's chosen life had been, how unconnected to the village. Only then did it occur to Kira to wonder, Who found her? How did they know to look?
"Thomas, come away from the window now. I need to tell you about something."
Reluctantly he came to where she was sitting at the table, though she could see from his face that he was still listening to the noise of the construction below. Boys, Kira thought. They were always interested in such things. If Matt were around, he'd be down there underfoot, getting in the way, wanting to help with the building.
"This morning —" she began. Then, sensing his inattention, "Thomas! Listen!"
He grinned, turned toward her, and listened.
"I went to the room below, the one where we heard the tyke crying."
"And singing," Thomas reminded her.
"Yes. And singing."
"Her name is Jo, according to Matt," Thomas said. "See? I'm paying attention. Why did you go down there?"
"I was looking for Jamison at first," Kira explained, "and I found myself on that floor. So I went to the door, thinking I might peek in and see if the tyke was all right. But it was locked!"
Thomas nodded. He looked unsurprised.
"But they've never locked my door, Thomas," she said.
"No, because you were already grown, already two syllables when you came here. But I was young; I was still Tom when I arrived," he said. "They locked my door."
"You were held captive?"
He frowned, remembering. "Not really. It was to keep me safe, I think. And to make me pay attention. I was young and I didn't want to work all the time." He grinned. "I was a little like Matt, I think. Playful."
"Were they harsh with you?" Kira asked, remembering the sound of Jamison's voice speaking to the little girl.
He thought. "Stern," he said finally.
"But, Thomas, the tyke below — Jo? She was crying. Sobbing. She wanted her mum, she said."
"Matt told us her mother died."
"She doesn't seem to know that."
Thomas tried to recall his own circumstances. "I think they told me about my parents. But maybe not right away. It was a long time ago. I remember someone brought me here and showed me where everything was, and how it worked —"
"The bathroom and the hot water," Kira said, with a wry smile.
"Yes, that. And all the tools. I was already a Carver. I'd been carving for a long time —"
" —the way I'd already been doing the threadings. And the way the tyke, Jo —"
"Yes," Thomas said. "Matt said she was already a singer."
Kira, thinking, smoothed the folds of her skirt. "So each of us," she said slowly, "was already a — I don't know what to call it."
"Artist?" Thomas suggested. "That's a word. I've never heard anyone say it, but I've read it in some of the books. It means, well, someone who is able to make something beautiful. Would that be the word?"
"Yes, I guess it would. The tyke makes her singing, and it is beautiful."
"When she isn't crying," Thomas pointed out.
"So we are each artists, and we were each orphaned, and they brought us each here. I wonder why. Also, Thomas, there's something else. Something strange."
He was listening.
"This morning I talked to Marlena, a woman I know from the weaving shed. She lives in the Fen, and she remembered Jo, though she didn't know her name. She