Twice Upon a Marigold by Jean Ferris

Author:Jean Ferris [Ferris, Jean]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

23

They made their way through the woods around the castle until they came to the river's edge. Scrooching down the steep, muddy bank to the narrow strip of beach, Marigold lamented (but only for a moment) what was happening to her cute little beaded shoes. What were shoes, even cute ones, compared to the life of someone she loved? They were a worthy sacrifice. She hoped they would be the only one.

The curtain wall of the castle soared high above them, and plunged straight down into the riverbank. Moss and lichens covered the wall higher than their heads, and looked altogether quite slimy and vile.

"There's a door under this stuff somewhere?" Chris asked. "Are you sure?"

"Are you doubting me?" Marigold asked. "I told you it's here."

"Okay, okay. Don't get your—" and then he thought better of what he'd been about to say. He knew now where a remark like that ended up, and he didn't want to start that again with Marigold. "I mean, then let's find it."

She took a deep breath, and put her hands on the slick, mossy wall, feeling around for the edges of a door. "Ick, ick, ick," she said. But she kept groping through the gloppy growth. So did Christian.

"Hey!" he called after a while. "I think I've found a hinge." He scraped away a thick layer of moss with his fingers. Marigold hurried over to help him, and before long they had revealed a door with an iron ring mounted in the center.

"Pull it," Marigold said. "The longer we're out here, the more chance there is that someone'll see us from up on the terrace."

"You and your father spent more time out there than anybody else ever did," Chris said. "And I ought to know. I put in a lot of hours watching you through my telescope." He gazed down at her, remembering that sweet and nervous time when he was first falling in love with her.

She gazed back at him, remembering the first p-mail message she'd received from him, when she'd been convinced that she'd be lonely for the rest of her life. And then he'd come along, first with his friendship, then with his love. How could she ever be irritable with someone who had changed her life? What came over her that caused her to speak to him the way she sometimes did?

Christian had turned back to the door and was tugging on the iron ring, to no avail. "This door is stuck, or locked," he said. "I can't get it open."

"Pull harder," she said. "I'll help."

But the door remained stuck shut.

When they stopped to rest, shaking out their cramping arms, Marigold had a sudden thought. "Maybe it's barred from the inside! Then we'll never get in!"

"We're not giving up yet," Chris said. "It hasn't been opened for a long time. It could just be rusted closed. We need something to pry it with."

"Why didn't you bring something?" she wailed. "You've got a workshop full of tools over there." She pointed across the river to Zandelphia.

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