"You don't have to talk to them. You don't evenhave to see them. There's something else I want youto do."
The sun was just setting. They'd walked this roada hundred times to get to Mary-Lynnette's hill-the only difference tonight was that Mark was carryinga pair of pruning shears and Mary-Lynnette had pulled the Rubylith filter off her flashlight.
"You don't reallythink they offed the old lady."
"No," Mary-Lynnette said candidly. "I just want to put the world back where it belongs."
"You want what?"
"You know how you have a view of the way theworld is, but every so often you wonder, 'Oh, myGod, what if it's really different?'Like, 'What if I'm really adopted and the people I think are my parentsaren't my parents at all?' And if it were true, it would change everything, and for a minute you don't know what's real. Well, that's how I feel right now, and I want to get rid of it. I want my old world back."
"You know what's scary?" Mark said. "I think Iunderstand."
By the time they got to Burdock Farm, it was full dark. Ahead of them, in the west, the star Arcturus seemed to hang over the farmhouse, glittering faintly red.
Mary-Lynnette didn't bother trying to deal withthe rickety gate. She went to the place behind the blackberry bushes where the picket fence had fallen flat.
The farmhouse was like her own family's, but with lots of Victorian-style gingerbread added.
MaryLynnette thought the spindles and scallops and fretwork gave it a whimsical air-eccentric, like Mrs.
Burdock. Just now, as she was looking at one of the second-story windows, the shadow of a moving figure fell on the roller blind.
Good, Mary-Lynnette thought. At least I know somebody's home.
Mark began hanging back as they walked down the weedy path to the house.
"You said I could hide."
"Okay. Right. Look, why don't you take thoseshears and sort of go around back-"
"And look at the Sasquatch grave while I'm there? Maybe do a little digging? I don't think so."
"Fine," Mary-Lynnette said calmly. "Then hidesomewhere out here and hope they don't see you when they come to the door. At least with the shears you have an excuse to be in the back."
Mark threw her a bitter glance and she knew she'dwon. As he started off, Mary-Lynnette said suddenly, "Mark, be careful."
Mark just waved a dismissive hand at her without turning around.
When he was out of sight, Mary-Lynnette knockedon the front door. Then she rang the doorbellitwasn't a button but an actual bellpull. She could hear chimes inside, but nobody answered.
She knocked and rang with greater authority. Every minute she kept expecting the door to open to reveal Mrs. B., petite, gravelly-voiced, blue-haired,dressed in an old cotton housedress. But it didn't happen. Nobody came.
Mary-Lynnette stopped being polite and began knocking with one hand and ringing with the other. It was somewhere in the middle of this frenzy ofknocks and rings that she realized she was frightened.
Really frightened. Her world view was wobbling.Mrs. Burdock hardly ever left the house. She always answered the door. And Mary-Lynnette had seenwith her own eyes that somebody was home here.
So why weren't they answering?
Mary-Lynnette's heart was beating very hard. She had an uncomfortable falling sensation in her stomach.
I should get out of here and call Sheriff Akers. It's his job to know what to do about things like this.But it was hard to work up any feeling of confidence in Todd's father. She took her alarm and frustration out on the door.
Which opened. Suddenly. Mary-Lynnette's fist hit air and for an instant she felt sheer panic, fear of the unknown.
"What can I do for you?"
The voice was soft and beautifully modulated. Thegirl was just plain beautiful. What Mary-Lynnette hadn't been able to see from the top of her hill was that the brown hair was aglow with rich chestnut highlights, the features were classically molded, the tall figure was graceful and willowy.
"You're Rowan," she said.
"How did you know?"
You couldn't be anything else; I've never seen anybody who looked so much like à tree spirit. "Your aunt told me about you. I'm Mary-Lynnette Carter, Ilive just up Kahneta Road. You probably saw my house on your way here."
Rowan looked noncommittal. She had such a sweet,grave face-,and skin that looked like white orchid petals, Mary-Lynnette thought abstractedly. She said, "So, I just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood, say hello, see if there's anything you need."
Rowan looked less grave; she almost smiled and her brown eyes grew warm. "How nice of you. Really.
I almost wish we did need something ... but actually we're fine."
Mary-Lynnette realized that, with the utmost civility and good manners, Rowan was winding up the conversation. Hastily she threw a new subject into the pool. "There are three of you girls, right? Are you going to school here?"
"My sisters are."
"That's great. I can help show them around. I'll be a senior this year." Another subject, quick, MaryLynnette thought. "So, how do you like Briar Creek? It's probably quieter than you're used to."
"Oh, it was pretty quiet where we came from,"Rowan said. "But we love it here; it's such a wonderful place. The trees, the little animals. . ." She broke off.
"Yeah, those cute little animals," Mary-Lynnette said. Get to the point, her inner voices were telling her. Her tongue and the roof of her mouth felt like Velcro. Finally she blurted, "So-so, um, how is your aunt right now?"
"She's-fine."
That instant's hesitation was all Mary-Lynnette needed. Her old suspicions, her old panic, surged up immediately. Making her feel bright and cold, like aknife made of ice.