Each Night Was Illuminated by Jodi Lynn Anderson

Author:Jodi Lynn Anderson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2022-07-14T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

TWO DAYS LATER, ELIAS COAXED ME ONTO A bus and then onto a train to New York City, to see Saint Eia’s golden stone.

On the train, I watched glimpses of the skyline rising up out of the flat vista of the Meadowlands. New York looked like a sparkling beast slumped in the Hudson River. It was like you took the train in and it swallowed you whole . . . no matter that it swallowed you in glitter and Broadway shows and Italian food, you got eaten nonetheless. I felt a thrill, watching out the windows as the city rose up closer and closer, and then we disappeared down into the tunnels that branched under the river and into Manhattan. I’d told my family I’d be at the convent all day; around five, they’d expect me home. I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until Elias poked my side and deflated me.

At Penn Station, everything and everyone was impossibly fast. I got knocked around until Elias tugged at my sleeve. “You look like roadkill, mate. Honestly.” He gently took my wrist and we moved through the terminal, up a stairway, and out into the city above. We emerged into the wet air and walloping noise of Seventh Avenue and made our way east and then north, past Macy’s, banks, souvenir shops, and three Starbucks.

Everything was motion. And then we reached Bryant Park, and to our right the crowds gave way to space and a wide expanse of grass and the imposing sight of the library: infinite-looking stone, sweeping arches. We walked alongside the park, hooking our way around to reach the front entrance. SAINTS IN THE DARK read a banner above the doorway, heralded on either side by medieval-looking angels blowing trumpets.

“Patience and Fortitude,” Elias said, pointing to the statues of lions at either side of the doors.

“How do you know?” I asked.

“Well, I’m not ignorant.” Which made me realize he’d looked it up on his phone.

Inside, a mix of tourists and locals milled around the enormous foyer, chatting under the arched pillars and domed ceiling.

“You can find anything here,” he said, winding us toward the stairs while I dragged my feet. “Old westerns, history, how to make chicken piccata, books of paintings, vintage postcards, stuff about Santa Claus. My uncle brought me here, that summer I visited.”

The exhibit was on the second floor, beyond a doorway with banners on either side of it, adorned with paintings of a man and a woman with golden halos looking toward the stars. Beyond the doorway they’d done something cool with the lighting so that the room was dim, illuminated only with tiny lights from above.

I didn’t get how an enormous city could have such quiet corners. Specially lit shelves ran the length of the room. I ran my gaze along the spines of the books, which were like the ones we’d inherited for the convent library: mostly printed a long time ago, a lot of plain covers embossed with gold.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.