The leather bag hanging from her shoulder clanked a little, reassuring in its solid reality. Weight might be heavy to carry—but it would hold her steady against the pull of wind and water, secure against the earth. Jem had let go of her hand, and she reached compulsively through the slit in her skirt to feel the three hard little lumps in the pocket tied round her waist.
She’d been afraid to try synthetic stones, for fear they wouldn’t work—or might explode violently, like the big opal Jemmy had burst into pieces in North Carolina.
Suddenly she was swept by a longing for Fraser’s Ridge—and her parents—so intense that tears welled in her eyes. She blinked hard and wiped her eyes on her sleeve, pretending that the wind had made them water. It didn’t matter; neither of the kids was noticing. Now both of them were staring upward—and she finally realized, with a small, flat thump of dread, that she could hear the stones; they were humming, and Mandy was humming with them.
She glanced behind her involuntarily, checking to be sure that they hadn’t been followed—but they had. Lionel Menzies was coming up the path behind them, climbing fast.
“F-word!” she said aloud, and Jem whirled to see what was going on.
“Mr. Menzies!” he said, and his face broke into a smile of relief. “Mr. Menzies!”
Bree gestured firmly to Jem to stay where he was and took a couple of steps down the steep path toward Menzies, little rocks sliding under her shoes and bouncing downhill toward him.
“Don’t be afraid,” he said, coming up breathlessly and stopping just below her. “I—I had to come, be sure you were safe. That you—that you—get away.” He nodded upward, looking beyond her. She didn’t turn to look; she could feel the stones now, humming gently—for the moment—in her bones.
“We’re okay,” she said, her voice surprisingly steady. “Really. Er . . . thank you,” she added, belatedly polite.
His face was pale and a little strained, but quirked into a small smile at that.
“My pleasure,” he said, with equal politeness. But he didn’t move to turn and go away. She breathed for a moment, realizing that the frozen core had thawed. She was alive again, completely, and thoroughly on the alert.
“Is there some reason why we might not be safe?” she asked, watching his eyes behind the glasses. He grimaced slightly and glanced over his shoulder.
“Shit,” she said. “Who? Rob Cameron?” She spoke sharply and heard the creak of gravel under Jem’s shoes as he turned sharply, hearing the name.
“Him and his friends, yes.” He nodded uphill. “You, um, really should go. Now, I mean.”
Brianna said something really bad in Gaelic, and Jemmy gave a nervous giggle. She glared at Menzies.
“And just what were you planning to do if Rob and his band of jerks all turned up after us?”
“What I just did do,” he said simply. “Warn you. I’d bloody go if I were you. Your, um, daughter . . . ?”
She whirled round to see Mandy, Esmeralda in the crook of one arm, stumping laboriously up the path.
“Jem!” She took one giant step, seized him by the hand, and they bolted up the hill after Mandy, leaving Lionel Menzies on the path below.
They caught Mandy up right at the edge of the circle, and Bree tried to grab Mandy’s hand but missed. She could hear Lionel Menzies coming up behind them. “Mandy!” She grabbed the little girl and stood, panting, surrounded by stones. The hum was higher-pitched and making her teeth itch; she gnashed them once or twice, trying to rid herself of the feeling, and saw Menzies blink. Good.
Then she heard the sound of a car’s engine below and saw Menzies’s face change to a look of acute alarm.
“Go!” he said. “Please!”
She fumbled under her skirt, hands shaking, and finally got hold of all three stones. They were the same kind, small emeralds, though of slightly different cut. She’d chosen them because they reminded her of Roger’s eyes. Thought of him steadied her.
“Jem,” she said, and put a stone in his hand. “And, Mandy—here’s yours. Put them in your pockets, and—”
But Mandy, little fist clutching her emerald, had turned toward the biggest of the standing stones. Her mouth drooped open for a moment, and then suddenly her face brightened as though someone had lit a candle inside her.
“Daddy!” she shrieked, and, yanking her hand out of Brianna’s, raced directly toward the cleft stone—and into it.
“Jesus!” Brianna barely heard Menzies’s shocked exclamation. She ran toward the stone, tripped over Esmeralda, and fell full length in the grass, knocking out her wind.
“Mama!” Jem paused for a moment beside her, glancing wildly back and forth between her and the stone where his little sister had just vanished.
“I’m . . . okay,” she managed, and with that assurance, Jem charged across the clearing, calling back, “I’ll get her, Mam!”
She gulped air and tried to shriek after him, but made only a wheezing croak. The sound of feet made her glance fearfully round, but it was only Lionel, who’d run to the edge of the circle, peering down the hillside. In the distance, she could hear car doors slamming. Doors. More than one . . .
She staggered to her feet; she’d fallen on the bag and bruised her ribs, but that didn’t matter. She limped toward the cleft stone, pausing only to scoop up Esmeralda by reflex. God, God, God . . . was the only thought in her head, an agony of unworded prayer.
And suddenly the prayer was answered. Both of them stood in front of her, swaying and white-faced. Mandy threw up; Jem sat down hard on his bottom and slumped there, wavering.