by K L Going
“You okay?” he asked. “Was it a good letter from your mom?”
Evie shrugged, still staring at the seed. “I didn’t open it yet.”
“You want to talk?” Father asked, but she shook her head even though the answer was yes. She did want to talk, but not to Father.
She needed to find Alex.
Chapter Twelve
The Search for a Stone
Evie peered into the graveyard.
“Alex?” she called, but there was no answer. She turned to go back inside but caught sight of a piece of black wool sticking out from beneath the billowing robe of a marble angel. The angel stood on a platform and it was as tall as a man with its arms outstretched, its robe making a circle around a smaller statue of a child. Only in this case there were two children, and one of them was Alex.
Evie took a deep breath and crossed the boundary line into the graveyard. She jogged over and knelt down to shake Alex awake. He stared up at her with sleepy eyes.
“Did I doze off?” he asked, and Evie nodded. Alex’s hair was mussed and he looked as pale as the marble statue, but he grinned.
“Hey, that’s two days in a row,” he said, sitting up. He squeezed out from beneath the angel’s robe. “I didn’t even have to drag you here today.”
Evie narrowed her eyes. “I don’t think nearly killing yourself yesterday qualifies as dragging me here,” she replied, but Alex just smiled smugly.
“It does if I planned it that way.”
“If you planned it,” Evie said, “then how did you know I’d be watching right at that exact moment?”
“Ghost powers,” Alex said.
“You’ve got to be kidding. Ghosts do not have superpowers.”
“How do you know so much about being a ghost? Have you ever been one?”
“No,” Evie said, “but—”
“Then you don’t know.”
Evie sighed. “Did anyone ever tell you that you’re the most aggravating—”
“You like me,” Alex interrupted before she could finish.
“Do not.”
“If you didn’t, you wouldn’t keep coming back. Besides, everybody always loved me. Especially grown-ups. And girls.”
Alex wiggled his eyebrows, but Evie rolled her eyes. “Maybe I just need your ghost powers,” she said. “If they’re real, of course.”
“They are,” Alex said, straightening. “Just tell me what you want me to do.”
“Fly,” Evie said.
“I haven’t learned that yet.”
“Make yourself invisible then.”
“I already am.”
“Conjure up a magic light or something.”
Alex held out his hand, palm up.
“There’s nothing there,” Evie protested.
“Of course there is! It’s not my problem if you can’t see it.”
Evie blew her bangs out of her eyes with an impatient breath. “Fine. Then how about finding a gravestone?”
“Which one?” Alex asked.
“Rodney Clayton.”
Alex’s face screwed up in disbelief. “Old Rodney? Why would you want to find his grave?”
Evie paused, trying to decide if she should show him the seed. “Can I trust you?” she asked.
“With what?”
“A present. If I show it to you, will you promise not to tell anyone?”
“I’m dead, silly,” Alex reminded her. “Who would I tell?”
Evie took the box out of her pocket. “This was a birthday present from Rodney.”
Alex leaned forward. “But old Rodney died months ago. When was your birthday?”
“It’s today,” Evie said. “Rodney left this for me.”
Alex shuddered. “I don’t know what it is, but I bet it’s bad luck. Everyone said old Rodney was cursed.”
“Well, I don’t believe in curses.”
Evie slid off the lid so Alex could see the seed. Despite herself, she held her breath, equally expecting both a gush of wind and nothing at all. She even closed her eyes, shutting them tight against . . . what?
At first there was nothing. Evie opened her eyes, disappointed. See? Nothing happened. Then she noticed Alex, and his eyes were dancing with excitement.
“What is it?” he breathed. “Is it magic?”
“I don’t know,” Evie said. “It’s just a seed . . . I think.” She wasn’t sure what she believed anymore. “Did it do something? I mean, did you feel a breeze or sunlight on your face or anything?”
Alex nodded. “It was warm, like springtime.”
Evie’s chest clenched tight. “Will you help me look for Rodney’s grave?” she asked. “I think that’s where I should plant it.”
She waited for Alex to say yes, but instead he took a step back.
“No. Way.”
Evie’s jaw dropped. “What? Why not?”
“People in town wouldn’t let the old man be buried in the cemetery because they thought he might curse all the dead people. He’s buried in the orchard instead. In the exact center.”
Evie glanced toward the twisting rows of apple trees waiting like an army of giants standing guard. “So we’ll go into the orchard then,” she said, but Alex’s pale face got even paler.
“No one goes in there,” he whispered. “Old Rodney killed his sister in that orchard, and now her ghost sucks all the life out of it. If you step inside the tree line, she’ll chop you up with the ax she stole from Simon Mackler’s place. It’s true, Evie. One day that ax was sitting on his porch, and the next day it was missing.”
Evie put both hands on her hips.
“You believe all that?” she asked, and Alex nodded solemnly.
“Well, my father goes into the orchard every day,” Evie said, “and he hasn’t gotten chopped up yet. Besides,” she added, “what could a ghost do to you?”
“I bet she could think of something,” Alex said.
“Now who’s chicken?” Evie asked, but it didn’t do any good. Alex only shook his head, and Evie felt her hopes drifting away. She could tell that his mind was made up, and if there was one thing she already knew about Alex, it was that he could outstubborn anyone she’d ever met.
Chapter Thirteen
Truth and Lies
For the rest of the day Evie thought about the curse. She stared at Rodney’s portrait in the hallway, and his eyes bore into hers as if he was trying to tell her that the stories weren’t true. He looked determined, but kind, too, like someone who would’ve been a good big brother. Maybe that was why he’d given her the seed. To prove that he hadn’t killed his sister.
But how could a seed prove anything? Unless it was magic . . .
Evie thought about what Mom had said about magical stories.
“They’re not always kind, Evie. Sometimes there are wolves waiting to eat little children and evil things lurking in the woods. Don’t ever wish that life was a fairy tale.”
Only now Evie felt as if she were stuck in one.
“Mom,” she whispered, “how do I know what’s true?”
She wished there was someone besides Father or Alex that she could ask. Someone who might see things like she did. Then she stopped. Actually there was someone.
Maggie.
Evie ran down the hallway to where Father had posted a list of emergency numbers. He always included a neighbor, and since they didn’t know anyone else in town it would have to be Maggie. She scanned the list.
Grandma, Uncle Pete, Aunt Carol . . . There it was, written in Father’s chicken scratch down at the bottom of the paper. Maggie Clayton: 555-7872.
Evie dialed the phone with unsteady fingers, and it rang twice before someone picked it up.
“This is Clayton’s Farm Supplies. How can I help you?”
“Maggie?”
“Yes?”
Evie swallowed hard. She hadn’t stopped to think about what she might say.
“It’s Evie. Evie Adler.”
“Is everything okay? You sound upset.”
<
br /> “I’m fine,” Evie said, “but I need to ask you something. About the seed.”
There was a long pause—so long that Evie wondered if Maggie had hung up the phone.
“Did you plant it?” Maggie asked at last.
“Not yet,” Evie said, “but sometimes it seems . . . strange . . . and I thought about planting it in the orchard only . . . someone said . . .”
Suddenly Evie wished she’d never picked up the phone, but Maggie just sighed.
“They said it was cursed?”
“Yes,” Evie said.
Maggie’s voice was soft. “Perhaps we should talk. Can you get your father to bring you to the store? I can’t leave right now, but once you’re here I could maybe slip away for a few moments.”
“Father will never leave work in the middle of the day,” Evie said, but Maggie only clucked.
“Have you asked him yet?”
“No.”
“Well, why don’t you see what he says?”
“All right,” Evie said, hoping Maggie was correct.
“I’ll be waiting for you.”
The phone disconnected with a soft click, and Evie stood still, cradling the receiver. She was sure Father would say no, but she hung up the phone and walked back down the hallway, grabbing her coat, then lingering for a moment on the front porch to study the lines of trees.
Alex was right. They did look cursed.
She swallowed hard, then headed toward the orchard, following the sound of Father’s chain saw until she saw him ahead of her, hacking away at branch after branch as if he were battling a huge ogre. She waited a long time, but when he didn’t turn around, she finally moved up next to him, then touched his shoulder softly.
Father jumped and shut off the saw abruptly.
“I thought I told you not to sneak up on me again,” he growled.
Evie almost turned around, but then she thought about the seed and instead she planted her feet.
“No, you didn’t,” she said. “You told me I could talk to you about anything, but you lied.”
Father opened his mouth, but Evie didn’t stop.
“You lied about us moving next to a cemetery; you lied about Mom knowing Rodney; you lied about me coming first. All you want to do is work, even on my birthday. You’d be happier if I wasn’t even here.”
Father set down the saw and took Evie by both shoulders. “Don’t you ever say that,” he said, shaking her. “It’s not true. I didn’t lie about the cemetery or your mom knowing Rodney. I just didn’t tell you everything.”
Tears sprang to Evie’s eyes, but she fought them back. “What’s the difference?”
“It’s . . . well . . .” Father shook his head. There was a long silence, then finally he said, “I guess there isn’t much of one.” He let go of her shoulders. “I didn’t mean to get angry. Just . . . tell me what you need.”
“I want to go into town.”
“Right now?”
“Yes. It’s my birthday and you’ve worked the whole day. I want to go see Maggie.”
Father glanced at the trees and Evie knew what he would say.
“There’s more work than I can handle out here. I can’t afford to take a break if we want apples next fall.”
She thought about all the times since Mom died that she’d done exactly what he wanted, but this time she wasn’t going to take no for an answer.
“It’s important,” Evie said. Then she fixed him with the same look that Mom had used when she really wanted something—her head cocked to one side and her eyebrows raised in expectation.
Father opened his mouth, then he turned, and for a moment she thought she saw tears glistening, but then he cleared his throat and nudged the pile of branches with his foot.
“Okay,” he said at last. “I suppose that’s not too much to ask.”
Chapter Fourteen
The Rest of the Story
On the ride into town Evie couldn’t stop fidgeting.
What did Maggie know about the seed?
She was certain there was something Maggie hadn’t told her. It felt as if she’d been doing a jigsaw puzzle and the final piece was waiting at Maggie’s shop. As soon as the car stopped she jumped out, hoping she could beat Father inside.
“Hold your horses,” he said, taking long strides to catch up, but when they got into the store, Maggie was behind the counter helping a customer. Evie stood first on one foot and then on the other, and Maggie nodded when she noticed them.
“Simon,” she said to the man at the counter, “this here is Frank Adler and his daughter, Eve. They bought Rodney’s place and Frank’s going to try and bring back that orchard. It’ll be nice to have apples again, wouldn’t you say?”
The man at the counter frowned. “Shouldn’t be messing with those trees,” he grumbled. “You’ll make things worse than they already are. Nothing grows in these parts—not even weeds in the lawn—and it’s ’cause of them trees sucking all the life out of things. If you ask me, they’re trouble. Townsfolk ought to have burned them down years ago whether Rodney liked it or not.”
Evie felt Father tense up beside her, but Maggie smacked the man’s change down on the counter with a loud thud.
“Well, no one asked you, did they?” she said, before Father could respond. “It’s not very neighborly of you to set about complaining before you’ve even said hello.”
The man snorted.
“Didn’t intend to be neighborly,” he said, stuffing his change into his pants pocket. Then he turned and sidled past Father in a way that made Evie feel like he’d meant there to be a fight. Father’s eyes followed him until he disappeared out the door.
Maggie shook her head.
“Don’t mind him,” she clucked as the front door slammed shut. “Folks are full of ignorance and superstition, but they’ll get over it soon enough.”
Will they? Evie wondered. Or are they right?
Father frowned at the floor.
“I’m going to check out those saw blades in the back,” he said, without meeting Maggie’s eyes. Evie watched as he turned down one of the aisles, then as soon as he was out of sight, she leaned in.
“Maggie,” she whispered, “did Rodney ever say anything about that seed? I mean, before he gave you the box?”
Maggie took a deep breath. She looked as if she was making up her mind about how much to say, but finally she nodded. “Yes,” she said. “But his stories didn’t make any sense, so I never believed them.” She leaned forward. “I must know . . . Why did you say that the seed seemed strange?”
Evie paused, wondering if Maggie would scoff at her the way Father would.
“I’ve felt a breeze,” she said, “just like the wind that blew everything off your dresser. And it makes me think of a beautiful tree, almost as if it’s calling me to plant it.”
Maggie’s face shifted in surprise. “I see,” she said. She paused. “So now you want to know where that seed came from, because you suspect I didn’t tell you everything . . .”
“Yes,” Evie said.
Maggie stared out the store window. She looked as if she was about to say something, then she stopped and started again.
“There is more, but it’s not a pleasant story. Still, it’s natural that you would want to know.”
Evie leaned forward. “Please will you tell me?”
“Well . . .” Maggie said, “it has to do with my sister, Eve. You see, when Papa came home from that trip he brought back three relics, like I told you. What I didn’t tell you was that the relics were three seeds that were said to be from the Garden of Eden. The seeds were found in the tomb I told you about—the one inscribed with the legend—and they were said to bring great life to those who needed it most, only they came with a warning.”
“What was it?” Evie asked.
“It was cryptic,” Maggie said. “Something about life being granted at the cost of life being taken away. It spoke of making choices, if I remember correctly . . .”
Maggi
e glanced at Evie’s wide eyes.
“Of course, that could mean anything. And honestly I don’t think those seeds are really from the Garden of Eden. Nor do I think they hold any sort of power,” she said, straightening. “Papa couldn’t have truly believed in them either or else he would have kept them locked up, and Eve never could have stolen them.”
Evie’s breath caught.
“Oh yes,” Maggie said. “Eve stole them out of spite and took them to the orchard to plant them. Rodney chased her, trying to get them back, but she wouldn’t stop. He lost sight of her for only a moment, but it was long enough. When he found her again she had already planted the first seed.
“I remember him telling me about the look on her face . . . how she stared upward as if she were seeing something very beautiful, only Rodney saw nothing. Then she walked forward, and he called to her, but in a blink she had disappeared and no one has seen her since. All that was left were the remaining two seeds in their boxes.”
Maggie sighed.
“Rodney believed those seeds led someplace magical—he’d ramble on and on about all the possibilities, convinced that the orchard had paid the price for Eve’s choice, but I’ve never been able to accept that. I know for a fact that Rodney planted the remaining seeds again and again because I caught him several times, but obviously nothing happened. Papa and I would find the holes where he’d buried them, then dug them up again. I think even Papa planted them a few times.” She paused. “I was sure they were long gone.”
Evie was quiet, trying to imagine Rodney as a fifteen-year-old boy watching his sister disappear and trying desperately to find her again.
“The seed must have taken Eve to the Garden of Eden,” Evie said, but Maggie shook her head.
“Impossible. The stories about Eden are clear—no one is allowed back into paradise. It’s said to be guarded by cherubim and seraphim with flaming swords.”
Evie paused, her breath quickening.
“What about a different sort of garden then?”
“Maybe someday we’ll each find our own perfect garden instead.”
“I suppose,” Maggie said, but she didn’t look at all certain.