by Richard Due
“Sorry, Isla, I overslept,” announced Lily, zigzagging her way to the door and shoveling food from the kitchen counter and table into her backpack as she went: an apple, a banana, a handful of granola bars, a hunk of cheese, a thickly sliced piece of toast—perfectly buttered—from her startled father’s hand, followed by a swig of juice from the cup in his other hand.
“Oh, hey, help yourself,” he said, grinning.
“If you insist,” she mumbled around the toast, running out the door and onto the wide kitchen porch.
As Isla and Lily charged down the porch steps, a voice rang out.
“Isla! Isla Gorpmarch!”
Myrddin’s tall figure was huffing toward them. He was wearing his wide-brimmed sun hat, the one with the point, and his old dusty cloak. With his tall walking stick and long beard, he looked like some kind of wizard.
“Yes, Mr. Madsen?” answered Isla politely.
“You been coming through The Wald again, haven’t ya? No need to lie about it, I saw you myself.” His accent, like his clothes, was thick and old-worldish.
“I beg your pardon, Mr. Madsen, but if you saw me all the way up in The Wald, then how did you get here so fast to tell us about it?”
Myrddin stopped short, and his face turned a bright red.
“Oof—” He opened his mouth, but no words came out.
“You just suspect I came through The Wald this morning. You are guessing.”
Myrddin’s lips formed a big O, as if to blow a smoke ring. Then he pressed his lips together and frowned.
“We’re late for school, Myrddin,” said Lily apologetically.
“School,” said Myrddin. His distaste was clear.
“I’ll be able to help after. Where will you be?”
Myrddin looked down at the ground. The change of subject had clearly rattled him, which was easy to do, as his mind had been loose and wobbly for all Lily’s life.
“Well . . . might be the greenhouses,” said Myrddin with a vague gesture.
As a time-saving measure, Lily decided against asking which one of the greenhouses.
The walk from Lily’s house to Treling’s gate was not short. Lily set a blistering pace, but Isla, furiously working the pedals of her brother’s all-terrain bicycle, caught up quickly. Pedaling was difficult work for Isla. The bike seat was too high for her to sit, even in the lowest position, and when she cranked the pedals, the bike swayed heavily from side to side, causing its pole-mounted plastic safety flag to whip back and forth with the distinctive snap-flapping sound Lily had come to associate with Isla’s presence.
“You stay outta The Wald, Isla Gorpmarch!” shouted Myrddin as they sped away.
Lily gave Isla a questioning look.
Isla tried to ignore it. Couldn’t.
“It saves me fifteen minutes to cut through there,” she said. “And what does he care? It’s just a bunch of old trees and fields. It’s not like I’m damaging anything—it already has its own trails. Besides, it’s all downhill from my house.”
Lily smiled. Isla lived with her parents north of Treling, up the old logging road, with no neighbors in sight. Because The Wald made up the northern border of Treling, it was much shorter to cut through, rather than go around. The Wald was a wild and unkept area, where the soil was too poor for good tree farming. Isla had been cutting through the corner of it ever since she first discovered how much time it saved her. The trick was getting past Myrddin and Gwen’s cottage without being seen, as their cottage sat on The Wald’s southern border. Isla’s shortcut was a particular sore point between her and Myrddin.
“Where’s Jasper?” asked Isla, changing the subject.
Lily wouldn’t have minded knowing the answer to that one herself. She hadn’t actually seen him leave. She wouldn’t put it past him to be playing a joke on her. If he was, and he hadn’t gone to the Moon Realm, he would want to give the necklace back to their father. And if he had gone, he was very late getting back. She had been quite clear in the note she’d tucked into his pocket: visit only Barreth—and then come back immediately. What if something had happened to him? What if the moon coin had burned out? What had she been thinking? The right thing to do had seemed so clear in the night. But now—how could she have been so stupid? The Moon Realm was a dangerous place at best. And where had she sent him? To the Blight Marsh! He hadn’t asked to go!
“I don’t know,” said Lily, trying to hide her nervousness. “He should be home by now.”
“He’s not home?”
“If it were anyone but Jasper, I’d say he was just ditching the last day of school.”
Lily eyed Isla. They’d grown up telling each other everything. Then boys happened. Well, boys happened for Isla. Everything else they still shared. But this time . . . Lily was thinking that Isla and the Moon Realm would be a bad mix. As it was, Isla wouldn’t set so much as her big toe in Uncle Ebb’s house. It’s not natural, she said. People don’t have toy animals sucking electricity out of thin air, walking and flying around their houses. Something is very wrong with that house and that man.
Up until last night, Lily had never agreed with Isla, but now, she knew Isla was right. Something was very wrong about Uncle Ebb. So much so that Lily wasn’t even sure anymore if he was an uncle in name only or a real uncle. If he wasn’t her real uncle, what exactly did Mom and Dad know about him? They were unlike him in so many ways. It was true that her mother did have the knack for repairing Uncle Ebb’s unusual farming equipment, but she never invented anything on her own. Lily’s parents were farmers: hardworking, industrious, resourceful, happy just to be out in the fields. Uncle Ebb was loud, outgoing, constantly inventing wild contraptions, and always bringing back a rare sapling or plant from some great adventure . . . from some distant, faraway land.
They continued west in silence. The road from Stonewood, the Winters’ home, was a typical farm road: two lines of stony dirt, compacted by hundreds of years of use, with a swath of green grass between them. When they came to the first fork, Lily and Isla turned southwest and five minutes later reached the center of the farm, with its greenhouses, barns, and vehicle sheds. Continuing south past the barns, the girls came to another fork. To the southwest, the dirt farm road disappeared out of sight. But the Gate Road, paved with asphalt to support the gargantuan trucks that carried shipments of full-grown trees, pointed southeast.
Once on the asphalt, Isla increased her pace and took the lead, bike flag snapping ever faster and more loudly. Lily had to jog to keep up. To their left sprawled the South Field; to their right the West Field, loping away into the distance over gentle hills. The different species of trees created micro-fields within the larger fields. The order of the varieties was anything but random; they were carefully plotted according to soil, sun, irrigation, and compatibility. This last was very important: some trees don’t actually like being next to each other.
The bus pulled up just as the girls approached the big gate. With an unconscious, practiced grace, Isla braked, leapt from the pedals of her brother’s bike, and let go of it just in time for Lily to hoist it onto her shoulder. Isla ran ahead and opened the door-sized gate within the big one. Without breaking stride, Lily stepped through. The bus driver scowled at them as they mounted the steps.
“She’s not supposed to bring that on the bus,” said the driver in a bored tone.
Lily and Isla ignored her, as usual, and Isla wheeled the bike into the very last seat.
This last day of school was interminable. Lily wanted to say goodbye to people and spend time with them—she wouldn’t see practically any of the students again until fall—but all she could think about was getting home and finding Jasper there: alive, well, and severely grounded.
The school’s hallways seemed extra crowded. Walking from English to Gym, Lily stopped at a busy intersection. With her worried mind thinking i
n double time, she watched the students, who now seemed vaguely foreign, glide by her in slow motion. How many times had she waited here for Isla?
Suddenly, the crowd before Lily parted, and there stood Jasper. Lily felt her breath leave her, as though she’d been holding it since leaving his room. Time resumed its normal beat and they wrapped their arms around each other in a big, strong hug.
“Jasper,” she said into his hair. “Where have you been? What happened? Are you all right? I was starting to think you weren’t coming back.”
“Lil, it’s okay,” he said, trying to suck in some air. “You can let go. I’m back.”
Lily relaxed her grip and rested her hands on her brother’s shoulders. She had never been so happy to see him. Then, suddenly alarmed, she sought around the collar of his shirt.
“For a second, I thought you were wearing it.”
“No.”
“You still have it, don’t you?”
“Of course.”
“Please don’t tell me you have it with you?”
“I don’t.”
“We should never carry it off Tre—”
“I agree.”
And the way he said it made Lily realize that something had changed.
“We’re not giving it back, are we?”
Jasper shook his head slowly. “But we need to talk.”
“You bet we do! Who did you meet? Where did you go? What took you so long? When did you get back? What do Mom and Dad know—”
“Lily,” said Jasper. He glanced over her shoulder and lowered his voice, “First, I went to Barreth.”
“First!” said Lily, her face hardening.
“Then I went to Dain.”
Lily pushed Jasper away, her anger taking hold. “I told you only one moon! You only had time for one moon!”
Lily felt a familiar pressure on her foot. Isla was stepping on it. “What in the hell are you two going on about?” she yelled. “I swear! What I wouldn’t give to have an interpreter for when the two of you talk.”
Jasper tapped Lily’s elbow with his notebook. “We’ll talk tonight.”
Lily eyes flashed. “Are you sure it’s in a safe place?”
Jasper nodded. “Yes. Tonight.”
“What was that all about?” asked Isla, once they were in the girls’ locker room, changing into their gym clothes.
“Farm stuff,” said Lily, still a bit distracted.
“That’s what you say when you don’t want to tell me something.”
“It is?”
“Yes,” said Isla coolly.
Lily looked at Isla guiltily. “Can I tell you about it later, Isla?”
“Of course,” she replied. “Now, let’s go play our last game of softball—thank God!”
Lily placed Isla’s brother’s bicycle onto the road and held it just long enough for Isla to get set. Once pedaling, Isla steered tight circles around Lily.
“See you tomorrow?” asked Lily hopefully.
“Nope. Got a big play date with Anthony.”
“How about day after?”
“Nope. Got a big play date with Anthony.”
Lily tried to smile. “Must be nice having a boyfriend.”
Isla continued her tight circles.
“He’s so much older,” said Lily.
“He’s only a year older than me,” said Isla.
“But he has his own car.”
“Movie night on Thursday?” Isla asked.
“Yes!”
“All right, then. Pick you up around six?”
“That would be wonderful!”
Isla veered onto the shoulder of the road, her brother’s bike tilting wildly from one side to the other, flag snapping. She rarely cut through The Wald on her way back—pedaling up a steep paved road was infinitely easier than going up a steep dirt one.
Lily found Myrddin in the western greenhouse, planting seedlings. He was in a very good mood and acted as if he didn’t remember the morning’s events, which may very well have been the case. Lily got out a seedling tray and spread potting soil over it, patting the soil into the small openings. While they worked, Lily chatted about horses and bonsai.
“Where’s Gwen?” asked Lily. Myrddin clamped his mouth shut at the mention of his sister’s name. “I’m going to take Hello Kitty out for a ride this evening, before it gets too dark.”
Myrddin straightened. “Keep out of the Far East field,” he blurted.
Lily was instantly curious, but she felt Myrddin had been troubled enough for one day.
“I will,” she said. “I promise.”
Myrddin smiled, evidently relieved. “Oh, a promise, is it? And to what do I owe this honor?”
“I’m going to circle the egg, to see if any lights are on at Uncle’s.”
“He’s not back,” said Myrddin, “Been there myself today. Don’t be goin’ in that house if you sees anything. You come tell your father first thing. Understand?”
Lily knew that Myrddin was just repeating the party line, but he sounded more serious than usual.
Lily nodded. “Okay.”
Noticing a pallet of boxes, Lily put down her tray and dusted off her hands. “Hey, when did these arrive?”
“Just today.”
Lily unsealed one of the boxes and pulled out what looked like a backpack. “So, is this what we’re giving away now with a purchase of a hundred dollars or more?”
Myrddin looked up. “Yep. Jac-a-backpacs they call ‘em. Pretty nifty, too.”
Holding the backpack by her fingertips, Lily spun the thing around. “Pretty lame, if you ask me.”
“Lame!” protested Myrddin. “No. Now look here.” Myrddin removed his gloves and took the jac-a-backpac from Lily. “Watch this.” And with a few snaps, some folds, and a little sleight-of-hand, it turned into a jacket. Lily had a hard time seeing how moments before it had been a backpack. “Now, what do you think about that?”
Lily grabbed another jac-a-backpac from the box. “Mine!” she announced.
Myrddin laughed. “And look here.” He pulled up a hood, then opened the jacket and stroked the lining. “A hood. And cotton lining all round.”
“Nice.”
On sighting Lily, Hello Kitty stomped in her stall. She wanted to nuzzle so much that Lily had to reprimand her repeatedly while getting her blanketed and saddled.
The heat of the day still warmed the air above the fields. It felt good to be on paths she knew well. The trail leading up to and around the egg was one of Lily’s favorites. Parts of it were very old, possibly Indian, and before them, deer. The ascent to the egg was short and steep, but Hello Kitty had no trouble scaling it.
The wide grassy field in front of the mansion was quiet. Fireflies winked underneath the boughs of the great tree, which stood like an enormous sentinel. Lily kept an eye and ear out for Mr. Clippers, as Hello Kitty was skittish around him. Lily took a slow lap around the tree, eyeing its upper branches. The tree was perfectly shaped and free of lightning strikes, which seemed odd, since it was the only tree on this side of the house. A never-evergreen, Lily had dubbed it. Always in full leaf, always a golden amber—forever autumn. Lily glanced at the ground below the tree. No leaves, no broken branches.
All the windows in Ebb’s house were dark. Lily hunted among them for hints of movement or odd shadows, but she detected nothing.
Uncle Ebb still wasn’t home.
Chapter Nine
Don’t Tell Dad
Jasper was not present that night at dinner.
Lily wondered what extra chores her father had given him, but decided not to risk drawing attention to her involvement. Worse, she didn’t know what Jasper had told them. Complicating or compromising his lie was not an option.
After dinner, she retired to her room, busying herself with the delicate care of her three bonsai trees. She had space in her windows for all of them, but Lily liked to keep one on her bookcase, rotating the trees once a week.
Currently, the feltleaf willow was on display. With a flourish, she unrolled her bonsai tools, a gift from Gwen on Lily’s seventh birthday, and picked up a kiri bonsai shear in one hand and a satsuki in the other. Clipping bonsai was like meditation for Lily and always made time pass quickly.
At nine o’clock, a very tired-looking Jasper shuffled in. He closed and locked the door behind him.
Lily wiped off her tools before rolling them up and swept the clippings into a pile for the compost.
“We gotta talk,” said Jasper, still standing with his back to the door.
Lily set a boombox on the floor, speakers pointing toward the door, and flipped on the CD player. Erin McKeown’s Life On the Moon filled the room.
Jasper sat heavily on the edge of the bed. At first, they just stared at each other, neither knowing what to say. Then a small smile began to twitch at the corners of Lily’s lips. Jasper raked his fingers through his hair and clutched his temples, slowly turning his head left and right, his eyes wide.
“It’s really real,” Lily finally said, “isn’t it?”
Jasper let out a blast of air from his lungs, then covered his mouth with both hands, as though he were afraid to speak.
“You’ve been there,” she continued, “haven’t you?” Jasper gave a slow nod. “They were never just stories.”