The Host_ A Novel - Stephenie Meyer [263]
“You don’t mind staying here too much, do you, Wanda? Do you think that maybe you could tolerate it?” he murmured.
Jamie squeezed my hand. Melanie put hers on top of his, then smiled when Jared added his to the pile. Trudy patted my foot. Geoffrey, Heath, Heidi, Andy, Paige, Brandt, and even Lily were beaming at me. Kyle had shuffled closer, a grin spreading across his face. Sunny’s smile was the smile of a coconspirator.
How much No Pain had Doc given me? Everything was glowing.
Ian brushed the cloud of golden hair back from my face and laid his hand on my cheek. His hand was so big just the palm covered from my jaw to my forehead; the contact sent a jolt of electricity through my silvery skin. It tingled after that first jolt, and the pit of my stomach tingled along with it.
I could feel a warm flush pinking my cheeks. My heart had never been broken before, but it had also never flown. It made me shy; I had a hard time finding my voice.
“I suppose I could do that,” I whispered. “If it makes you happy.”
“That’s not good enough, actually,” Ian disagreed. “It has to make you happy, too.”
I could only meet his gaze for a few seconds at a time; the shyness, so new and confusing to me, had my eyes dropping to my lap again and again.
“I… think it might,” I agreed. “I think it might make me very, very happy.”
Happy and sad, elated and miserable, secure and afraid, loved and denied, patient and angry, peaceful and wild, complete and empty… all of it. I would feel everything. It would all be mine.
Ian coaxed my face up until I looked him in the eyes, my cheeks flushing darker.
“Then you will stay.”
He kissed me, right in front of everyone, but I forgot the audience quickly. This was easy and right, no division, no confusion, no objection, just Ian and me, the molten rock moving through this new body, melding it into the pact.
“I will stay,” I agreed.
And my tenth life began.
EPILOGUE
Continued
Life and love went on in the last human outpost on the planet Earth, but things did not stay exactly the same.
I was not the same.
This was my first rebirth into a body of the same species. I found the transfer much more difficult than changing planets because I had so many expectations about being human already in place. Also, I’d inherited a lot of things from Petals Open to the Moon, and not all of them were pleasant.
I’d inherited a great deal of grief for Cloud Spinner. I missed the mother I’d never known and mourned for her suffering now. Perhaps there could be no joy on this planet without an equal weight of pain to balance it out on some unknown scale.
I’d inherited unexpected limitations. I was used to a body that was strong and fast and tall-a body that could run for miles, go without food and water, lift heavy weights, and reach high shelves. This body was weak-and not just physically. This body seized up with crippling shyness every time I was unsure of myself, which seemed to be often these days.
I’d inherited a different role in the human community. People carried things for me now and let me pass first into a room. They gave me the easiest chores and then, half the time, took the work right out of my hands anyway. Worse than that, I needed the help. My muscles were soft and not used to labor. I tired easily, and my attempts to hide that fooled no one. I probably couldn’t have run a mile without stopping.
There was more to this easy treatment than just my physical weakness, though. I was used to a pretty face, but one that people were able to look at with fear, mistrust, even hatred. My new face defied such emotions.
People touched my cheeks often, or put their fingers under my chin, holding my face up to see it better. I was frequently patted on my head (which was in easy reach, since I was shorter than everyone but the children), and my hair was stroked so regularly that I stopped noticing when it happened. Those who had never accepted me before did this as often as my