by R. L. Stine
“I-I think I will go outside,” she said, rising to her feet. “It is such a pretty day, and I have not met the boys yet.”
Angelica only smiled. Amy forced herself to walk slowly out of the room. But then she started running—and did not stop until she reached the garden.
“Amy!” Hannah called, rushing to meet her. “Do you want to play hide-and-seek?”
Hannah tugged at her hand. “Come on. The boys cannot wait to meet you.”
Amy allowed herself to be tugged deeper into the garden. Past a huge bed of azaleas. Past a fish pond centered between two weeping willow trees.
Amy noticed the branches of a bushy hedge shaking as they approached. She heard a high giggle. The boys, she thought and smiled.
“Did you hear something, Hannah?” Amy asked. She pointed at the hedge and winked.
“No,” the girl answered, her brown eyes sparkling. “Did you?”
“I heard something.” Amy put her hands on her hips and turned in a slow circle. “Maybe it was a cat hiding in the hedges. Or a squirrel.”
More giggles erupted from the hedge. Amy pounced. She leaned over the hedge and grabbed a small, squirming boy. “I told you it was a squirrel!”
“I am not a squirrel!” the little boy shrieked happily. “I am Joseph!”
Two other boys jumped out from behind another hedge. One looked about eleven years old. He was as blond and vivid as Hannah. The other boy was smaller with Angelica’s dark hair and green eyes.
“Hello,” Amy said.
“I am Robert,” the older boy said. “He is Brandon.”
“I am going to be nine next month,” Brandon said.
“Congratulations,” Amy said.
Joseph squirmed down from her arms. “Let’s play!”
“Amy is ‘it’!” Brandon shouted.
Catching a movement out of the corner of her eye, Amy turned to see Julia standing off to one side. The girl’s expression was closed, sullen.
“Come on, Julia,” Amy called. “Come play with us.”
For a moment, pleasure sparkled in Julia’s dark eyes. Then Hannah laughed, and the spark faded.
“Yes, Julia, come help,” Hannah called. “For once, do not be an old stick.”
Amy stepped between the girls. “Please, Julia?” she asked. “You can be my partner. I need help. I am sure you know every hiding place in this garden.”
Julia nodded.
“So come on,” Amy coaxed. After a moment’s hesitation, Julia stepped forward.
“Where did you get that bracelet?” Hannah demanded.
“Amy gave it to me,” Julia mumbled.
Hannah whirled around and stared at Amy, her eyes hard. For a moment she reminded Amy of Angelica.
Then Hannah smiled. “How sweet of you!” she exclaimed. “Not many people pay attention to poor Julia.”
“All right, everyone,” Amy called, ignoring Hannah’s comment. She covered her eyes with her hands. “I am going to start counting. And you all better find good hiding places, because if you do not, we are going to get you!”
She heard Joseph squeal. Footsteps raced in all directions. Then the garden became quiet.
Amy counted to fifty, then took Julia by the hand and began the search. The girl was a bit stiff at first, but soon began to enjoy herself. Color came into her pale cheeks.
“We ought to separate,” Julia said. “We will find them faster that way.”
“All right,” Amy agreed. “You take the east end of the garden, and I will look over by the fish pond.”
As Amy made her way along the garden wall, she came across a gate. Morning glory vines twined in the wrought-iron bars, the blue flowers bright against the dark metal. Another garden lay behind the gate, and Amy could see the shape of a white house at the far end.
I wonder who lives there? she thought. With a shrug, she turned back to the game. She scanned the bushes, the low stone wall enclosing the pond, a trellis arch heavily laced with climbing roses. So many places a child could hide.
But Amy thought the spot behind the drooping willow branches was the best. She parted the screen of branches and slipped through. It was darker under the tree. Quieter. Amy found herself holding her breath.
She rested her palm against the willow’s trunk. The bark felt cool and damp, and smelled faintly of mold.
The tree rustled. Branches shifting, leaves rubbing against one another.
It sounds like whispering voices, Amy thought. She wanted to be back in the sunshine again.
Something brushed along her cheek.
She frantically batted it away. Leaves, she realized. Just leaves.
Twigs plucked at the fabric of her gown as she pushed the branches aside. She had to get out. Something was wrong.
One branch escaped from her fingers, snapping across her throat. She pulled it away hastily and felt something sticky beneath her fingers.
Warm and sticky. Blood.
Amy fought her way through the branches. Then she took a deep breath and stared back at the willow tree.
What had happened to her? Amy brushed her hand across her throat. No more blood. The cut must have been tiny.
You spooked yourself again, that is all, Amy thought. The same way you did last night.
Amy turned her attention back to the hide-and-seek game. “Ouch!” she heard someone cry softly. She noticed one of the rosebushes shaking.
Amy laughed. “Did you forget that rosebushes have thorns?” she called.
Amy walked toward the bushes. “I have you now.” She leaned close, peering between the thorny branches.
Before she could discover who was hiding there, a woman screamed. A high, shrill scream of terror.
Chapter
5
Amy stared around wildly.
The woman screamed again.
She was in the garden next door! Amy ran toward the gate.
“Children!” she cried over her shoulder. “Run! Get help!”
Amy yanked on the gate. It did not budge. Amy pulled on it again. Open, she thought. Open, open, open.
Hinges squealed as the gate jerked open. Vines ripped away from the gate and fell on Amy.
Amy squeezed through the opening. “I am coming,” she called. “Where are you?”
“Here by the arbor!” the woman cried. “Oh, please hurry!”
Amy rushed along the path, following that frightened voice. “No!” she gasped.
A woman clung to a fragile wood trellis. A water moccasin was inches from her feet.
“Run! Get help!” the woman gasped.
No time, Amy thought. The trellis began to sag.
She had to do something now! What could she use as a weapon? Amy’s eyes darted frantically around the garden. She spotted a hoe propped against a nearby tree.
Perfect. Amy snatched up the hoe. She raised it high above her head and slammed it down.
The snake hissed. Missed it, Amy thought.
She raised the hoe again. Brought it down hard. This time the hoe almost severed the snake’s head.
The snake twisted wildly. Its head flopped back and forth. Blood sprayed over Amy’s shoes. The snake’s fangs opened and shut near the woman’s foot. Snapped and snapped and snapped.
It is going to bite her, Amy thought. She pulled up the hoe and chopped at the creature again and again.
Finally, it lay still. With a shudder, Amy tossed the hoe aside.
“Here, let me help you,” Amy panted. She rushed to the woman and held up her hand. She could feel the older woman’s hand shaking as she grabbed it. Or maybe her own hand was the one trembling!
“Good heavens!” the woman exclaimed in a soft, breathless voice. “I was certain I was lost. You are a very brave young lady. My name is Claire Hathaway, and I am most grateful—”
“Mother!” The voice was deep and male. “Mother, where are you?”
“Here, David,” the woman called. “Near the arbor.”
Amy heard footsteps running along the grav
el path. A moment later a man came into sight.
A tall, lean man. His right arm was in a sling, and a black patch covered his left eye. He had goldenbrown hair and skin that had been tanned brown by sun and wind.
“What happened?” he demanded, staring down at the slaughtered snake.
“It was a water moccasin,” his mother answered. “This young lady killed it before it could bite me.”
The man turned to Amy. He is not much older than I am, she realized. She smoothed her skirt, conscious of every wrinkle and every grass stain she had gotten while playing with the children. Her hair was a mess, too.
The man reached out and took her small hand in his large, warm one. “I am David Hathaway. Who are you?” he asked.
“I am Mrs. Fear’s cousin,” she replied, her voice a little shaky. Amy tried not to stare. But David was so handsome. His features were chiseled. And his eye patch gave him a dashing look.
David smiled at her, and Amy’s heart started to beat very fast. “Well, Mrs. Fear’s cousin,” he teased. “Thank you.”
Amy felt her cheeks get hot. She hoped David did not notice her blushing. “I am Amy Pierce. I—” she began.
“Amy!” Angelica cried.
Amy swung around. Her cousin rushed toward her, Nellie a few steps behind.
Angelica enveloped her in a swirl of silk and musky perfume. “Brandon said he heard screams,” Angelica exclaimed. “What happened? Is everyone all right?”
“Yes,” Mrs. Hathaway replied, pushing a lock of gray-streaked brown hair back from her forehead. “Thanks to your cousin. She saved me from a water moccasin.”
Angelica’s gaze drifted from Amy to the dead snake and back again. “That was brave,” she said. “But how reckless! You might have been hurt.”
“I would say the snake fared worse,” David commented.
Angelica glanced at him. Amy could not tell whether her cousin liked David or not. But before she could figure it out, Angelica took her hand and turned her toward the gate.
“Let’s get you home,” Angelica said. “That was quite a scare.”
“But—” Amy protested.
“And we simply must get you cleaned up,” Angelica continued, as though Amy had not spoken. “You have blood on the hem of your gown. I do hope we can get it out. Good-bye, Mrs. Hathaway. Good-bye, David.”
“Good-bye,” Mrs. Hathaway replied. “And thank you, Amy!”
As Angelica tugged her toward the house, Amy quickly glanced over her shoulder. David’s expression had turned grim. Cold. What is he thinking about? she wondered. Why does he look so angry?
As soon as they entered the Fear mansion, Angelica let go of Amy’s hand. She turned to Nellie, who had silently followed them. “Nellie, take Miss Amy upstairs and help her lie down,” she ordered. “She’s had quite a scare.”
“But I’m fine, really,” Amy said.
Angelica waved off her protest with a sharp toss of her hand. “Nonsense. Run along now. I will be up later to check on you.” With a swish of silk, Angelica hurried away.
Amy seethed inside. How dare Angelica treat her like this! Dragging her away from the Hathaways, then sending her to her room like a child who had eaten too many sweets. Her annoyance must have shown on her face.
“Don’t be angry, Miss Amy,” Nellie said. “She just gets that way sometimes. And she was worried about you, hearing those screams and all. Now come upstairs. It will do you good.”
Amy shook her head. “Not unless you promise not to call me Miss Amy anymore.”
“Then what do I call you?” Nellie asked.
“Amy.”
“But you are . . . And I am . . .” Nellie appeared scandalized.
“Nellie, listen. We did not have servants at home. I am not used to having someone else do everything for me. And I am surely not used to being called Miss Amy all the time.”
The maid hesitated. Then she smiled. “All right, Miss . . . ah, Amy. But only when Mrs. Fear is not listening.”
Amy smiled back at Nellie. She felt full of energy. “Race you!” she cried.
Amy ran for the stairs. Laughing in delight, Nellie raced after her. Amy reached her room first. She slid on the polished floor and had to grab the bedpost to keep from falling down.
“Oh, that was fun,” Amy gasped.
Nellie paused for a moment to catch her breath. “Weren’t you scared killing that snake?”
“I did not have time to be scared,” Amy replied. “At least not much.”
“Well, I hate snakes, I surely do.” Nellie opened the closet and rummaged through it, pulling out stockings and stays and a billowy armful of petticoats.
“Oh, Nellie, do I need all those things?” Amy groaned.
The maid shot a glance over her shoulder. “Everything you have on is either torn or dirty, Miss . . . Amy. David Hathaway is mighty handsome, don’t you think?”
Taken by surprise, Amy could not answer for a moment. Then she shrugged. “I suppose so. Really, I did not much notice.” What a liar I am, she thought. She had not been able to stop staring at him.
“And he stared at you so hard,” Nellie continued.
“Well, ah . . .” The rest of the words would not come. Amy’s cheeks flamed. How she wished she did not blush so easily! And the fact that Nellie was grinning at her only made it worse. “He was saying thank you, Nellie. It did not mean anything.”
“I’m sure it didn’t.” Abruptly, the maid’s smile faded. “There is something you need to know about David Hath—”
Angelica stepped into the doorway. Nellie went very still, her eyes on the floor.
Angelica smiled, but her eyes looked as hard as green glass. “Nellie, I believe you have some chores downstairs?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Nellie fled.
Angelica came farther into the room. “How are you feeling, Amy?”
“I’m fine. Remember, I am a country girl, Cousin Angelica. Snakes do not bother me.”
“I am sorry that I spoke sharply to you downstairs,” Angelica told her. “I was just so worried that something might have happened to you. After all, I told your mother I would take care of you.”
“It’s all right,” Amy replied, touched that Angelica cared so much. “I understand.”
“Good.” Angelica’s gaze drifted to the open closet. “Is that all you brought with you? Good heavens, girl! You must have packed in a terrible hurry.”
Amy did not want to admit that those few gowns were all she had. So she did not say anything.
Angelica crossed to the closet and began flipping through the clothes. She made a tiny, disapproving sound deep in her throat.
“This will not do,” she muttered to herself. “There are few social events with the city occupied by the yankees, of course. But this will not do at all. The Pattersons still intend to hold their Harvest Ball in less than two weeks. Lyle Patterson must have bribed General Butler himself to get permission from the Union army. You’ll need an evening gown for that, and at least three more day dresses and a riding habit.”
Amy sat down on the bed. This was so embarrassing! “But that is all I have.”
“Ah.” Angelica came to sit beside her. “The war has been hard on everyone.”
“We were not rich before the war.” Slowly, Amy smoothed a wrinkle out of her skirt. “But we have always made do.”
“Of course,” Angelica said. “And I am not saying that your own clothes are not nice. But you simply must have more to wear. I am having new dresses made for me and the girls, and I will have some made for you as well.”
“I could not—”
“Amy, are you going to tell me that you do not want to go to the ball? Don’t you want to dress up and put flowers in your hair and have all the young men in town beg to dance with you?”
Oh yes, Amy thought. She wanted all those things.
“Remember, dear, that we are family,” Angelica said. “We take care of each other. I am sure your mother would do the same for my girls if our situ
ations were reversed.”
“Well. . .” Amy said slowly.
“I insist,” Angelica said. “I do not want to hear another word about it.” She patted Amy’s hand, then rose with a swish of silk. “You are a very special young lady. I want us to be good friends.”
“I do, too,” Amy said. But it was so hard to feel comfortable around Angelica.
Angelica started toward the door. Then she turned back. “There is one more thing, Amy. Nellie talks far too much. I do not approve of gossip. But I do think you should know the truth about David Hathaway.”
“David?” Amy looked up.
“It is only natural for a pretty young woman to show an interest in eligible young men. Especially when they live next door. But you must not become attached to David. You simply must not.”
“Why not?” Amy asked. Angelica was treating her like a little girl again.
“I know David is handsome. And with that patch . . . well, he is very intriguing, don’t you think?”
Amy did not know how to answer.
“David used to be an amusing young man,” Angelica continued without waiting for a reply. “But the war changed him. Inside more than out. Frankly, he has become a little . . . unbalanced. Some people think he is dangerous.”
“Dangerous!” Amy exclaimed. “Why?”
“War is a terrible thing. Men fight for a cause. They kill and die for it. I won’t repeat the rumors about how David escaped from a Union prison. They would horrify you.”
How did they make David dangerous to her? Why did Angelica want her to stay away from David?
“For David, the war became something else,” Angelica continued. “You see, he came to like the violence. He killed for the sheer enjoyment of it. And once a man steps over that line, he can never go back.”
“No,” Amy whispered. What kind of man killed for pleasure?
“I’m sorry, Amy,” Angelica murmured. “But you cannot hide from the truth. David will kill again.”
Chapter
6
Amy did not believe it. David could not enjoy killing.
She sat on the sun-warmed stone wall that enclosed the fish pond, trying to read. But her gaze kept drifting to the Hathaways’ home. And her thoughts kept drifting back to David.