by Jess Redman
The tree’s bark was smooth underneath him, smoother than any bark he had ever felt, and it was warm too, in spite of the low temperature. The flowers surrounding him were so white that they seemed to glow, and the wind blowing through their petals sounded like a whisper.
The DoorWay Tree felt so alive.
“I hope this won’t hurt, Tree,” Wunder whispered. “But even if it does, you’ll grow back. And this piece of you will grow somewhere else, somewhere new. I promise.”
Then he started to saw.
As hard as the wood beneath him felt, Wunder didn’t have much trouble starting the cut. He took this as a good omen. The tree, he thought as he worked, was willing to give up this branch. The tree wanted him to have the branch.
Things were going according to plan again. Everything was going their way. He had sawed through half of the branch, and they were going to make it back to the train in time.
Then a light turned on in the church.
“Hurry! Saw! Saw! Saw!” Faye hissed.
Wunder hurried, but his hands were sweaty now and his grip kept slipping. His arms were getting tired. The branch was so thick and the wood didn’t seem to be giving under his saw the way it had at the beginning.
“Someone’s coming!” Davy was whisper-screaming. “Someone’s coming!”
Wunder heard a door shut somewhere on the other side of the church. He bent toward the branch, pushing back and forth, back and forth as fast as he could.
“Someone’s coming, someone’s coming, someone’s coming.” Davy was chanting this now in a high, petrified voice.
“David’s right, Wundie,” Faye whispered. “We’ve got to go.”
“Almost there,” Wunder said. “Come on, Tree. I need your help.”
And then the branch finally broke loose. It crashed toward the ground, narrowly missing the bird statue. Davy let out a true scream—sharp and earsplitting. The someone who was coming, a man, yelled, “Who’s out there?”
Wunder leaped to the ground. There was no reason to be quiet now.
“Everyone grab the branch!” he shouted.
Even with the three of them working together, the branch was heavy and bulky and nearly impossible to lift. They had to heave it over the fence, then load it into the wagon with frantic hands. There wasn’t room for the bag of tools, so Wunder left it behind. He knew his father wouldn’t be happy about that, but he couldn’t help it.
As they were racing off—Wunder pulling the wagon as fast as he could and Faye and Davy steadying the branch—Wunder saw the silhouette of a man coming slowly, cautiously around the corner of the church. He didn’t yell after them though. He stood and watched as they ran farther and farther away.
Chapter 36
It was 8:10 when they reached the train station, sweating and out of breath and pulling a ten-foot-long branch in a kids’ red wagon.
So much for discretion.
“Where are you three going?” the ticket agent at the window called to them.
“Branch Hill,” Wunder panted.
“Branch Hill.” The agent looked down at something in front of him. “That’s seven hours away. Your parents know you’re getting on a train to Branch Hill?”
“Our parents live in Branch Hill,” Wunder replied, trying to catch his breath and sound mature and responsible at the same time. “They bought us the tickets. And they’re meeting us at the train.”
“We’ve been here on UIPS business,” Faye added.
“Is that some kind of gardening club?” the agent asked. He was staring at the tree branch.
Wunder was surprised when it was Davy who answered. “No,” he said, his voice shaky but loud and clear. “We study the miraculous.”
“The miraculous?”
Wunder knew that this was it, the final obstacle. If they could get past this ticket agent and onto the train, they would be home free. “Are you a man of faith, sir?” he asked.
The ticket agent considered this, his head bobbing back and forth. “Well, I don’t follow any particular religion, but yes, I’d say I’m a man of faith.”
“Then you have to believe that we need this tree branch,” Wunder said. “And we need it in Branch Hill.”
The agent didn’t answer right away. He studied Wunder and Davy and, for quite a bit longer, Faye and her cloak. He studied the branch in the wagon. Then the train whistled from somewhere nearby.
“Good luck then, I guess,” he said with a shrug.
When the train pulled up, he watched as they climbed aboard. He was still watching as they pulled away.
“Can you believe that?” Wunder cried, collapsing onto a seat. “Can you believe us? We did it! We got it! Look at this thing!”
“Yeah, great,” Faye said. “Now we can plant it for the witch so she can grow some kind of magical child-eating tree or harvest some kind of fruit for her spells.”
“She’s not a witch,” Wunder said. “She’s—she’s—”
He stopped talking and grinned. He didn’t know what she was. He didn’t know who she was. But he would know soon.
The conductor came around, but this one seemed even less devoted to the welfare of her young passengers. She didn’t ask questions, just checked their wristbands and marked their tickets. They ate the last of their sandwiches and apples and some jelly beans that Faye found stashed in one of her many pockets, as the train chugged toward Branch Hill. After a few hours, Faye and Davy fell asleep, Davy leaning on Faye’s cloaked shoulder.
Wunder didn’t sleep. He watched the dark world blurring past his window. He thought about the houses they were passing, the people who were surely asleep as the hour grew later and later. He thought about the lives that were being lived just outside that piece of glass, and the lives that had ended in those very same places. He thought about the pain and the love that was unfolding all over, all around him, everywhere, everywhere. Even inside himself.
And he wondered what would happen when he planted the branch. He wondered what the witch’s miracle would be.
He fell asleep, only for a minute. And he had a dream.
In his dream, he dug a hole on Branch Hill, in front of the memorial stone, its silver words glinting in the moonlight. He stood the branch up in the hole. It rose high above his head, white flowers swaying in the night breeze.
But then instead of growing, the branch began to shrink, smaller and smaller and smaller. Flowers fell to the ground. Little branches pulled back in until there were only four sticking out, each one ending in a cluster of tiny twigs. A wooden knot swelled at the top of the branch. A hole opened there and a cry came out.
It was a baby. A DoorWay Tree baby. It was Milagros.
“‘Behold!’” the baby said, and her voice sounded soft and far away. “‘Behold! I tell you a miracle. We will not all sleep, but we will all be changed’!”
“Now arriving at Branch Hill station,” said the voice over the intercom.
Wunder sat up. Faye and Davy were getting to their feet. They were home. They had done it. They had actually done it.
Then the train door opened.
And Officer Soto was standing on the other side.
Chapter 37
Faye had been wrong about her mother. As soon as Officer Soto stopped in front of her house, Mrs. Lee came running out. She went right to Faye, grabbed her, and hugged her tight. Then she pushed her away to arm’s length, gave her a little shake, and pulled her close again. Officer Soto drove away before Wunder could see if Faye hugged her back.
Mrs. Baum did not hug Davy. She was waiting at the curb in front of his house, arms crossed. When they pulled up, she marched over to the police car and opened the door herself.
“Out, David Baum,” she ordered.
“See you, Wunder,” Davy said. He looked miserable as he climbed out of the car. But then he popped his head back in and smiled. “We did it,” he said, before his mother dragged him away.
Then they were at Wunder’s house. No one was waiting at the curb. No one ca
me running out the front door. Officer Soto walked him inside.
Where he found his parents. Both of them.
For the first time, Wunder wanted to be alone in his room.
His mother had been sitting on the couch, but when he came in, she got to her feet. Her dark hair was unwashed and uncombed. She was wearing an old T-shirt and sweatpants, and her eyes had rings under them. She started toward him, then stopped. She didn’t seem to know what to do with herself.
“Wunder!” she said. “Where have you been?”
“It’s all right, Mrs. Ellis,” Officer Soto told her. “I picked them up at the train station. And they did have that tree branch, like the ticket agent said.”
“We’ve been so worried,” Wunder’s mother said. Her voice wasn’t her normal voice. It had so many edges, sharp and jagged. A broken voice. “How could you—what is going on with you? First breaking into the town hall, now this! Do you think we don’t have enough to worry about right now?”
Wunder’s father came over and gave him a hug. Then he said, very seriously, “What did you think you were doing, Wunder? Sneaking out of the house and traveling all that way—don’t you realize how dangerous that was? Where did you even get the money for the tickets? And what’s going on with the tree branch?”
Wunder didn’t know what to say. He had been so sure that everything would go according to plan, that his parents would find out about everything—the witch, the letters, the branch—but on the second of November. On the morning of the miracle. On that morning, he was sure that his mother would smile and hug him and his father would stay around for the whole day and the world would be changed again—this time for the better.
But things were not working out that way.
“I needed the branch,” he finally said. “It’s for something. For somebody.”
“Who?” his mother demanded.
“You don’t know her,” Wunder said evasively. “She’s new in town.”
“Is it the old lady?” Officer Soto said. “The one living in the DoorWay House?”
Wunder’s eyes opened wide. He knew he should deny it, but he was so surprised that he said, “How do you know about her?”
“She’s our newest resident,” the officer said. “And we’ve had some … concerns.” He paused. “Mostly from people visiting the cemetery. It seems she invites, well, funeral attendees in. She’s been sending letters too—or having them delivered, anyway.” He raised his eyebrows at Wunder. “Some people felt like maybe she was spying on them or planning to—to coerce them into giving her money or something. I don’t know.”
“And is she?” Wunder’s mother asked. “Is she spying on people and trying to get their money?”
Officer Soto shrugged. “Well, I don’t know about that. We’ve been trying to determine if she has any legal right to be in the DoorWay House, but the records from that far back are a mess. And she’s very old. I think she’s probably just lonely.”
“But you don’t know that,” Wunder’s mother pressed.
“No,” Officer Soto said. “I don’t know that.” He cracked his knuckles, one side, then the other. “And when I spoke with the police chief in Benedict, he did say there have been other attempts to take branches from that same tree. Apparently, it’s very rare and it’s worth a lot of money.”
“Did she tell you why she wanted the tree branch, Wunder?” Wunder’s father asked.
Wunder didn’t say anything. Officer Soto’s words were playing back in his head—she invites funeral attendees in. How many? he wondered. Everyone? All the friends and families of the dead that she read about in the obituaries?
“Did she ask you to do anything else, Wunder?” Wunder’s mother asked.
Wunder thought about the letters, the dozens of letters he had delivered. Was that what the letters were for? Was she planning to ask for money on the second of November? And the DoorWay Tree? Was she going to sell the branch?
He shook his head.
“You need to look into this,” Wunder’s mother said to Officer Soto. “This old woman—it sounds like she’s preying on grieving families. She’s got some sort of—of mental issue. A sociopath maybe.”
“We’re definitely addressing the issue,” Officer Soto assured her. “But, like I said, I think she’s a lonely old woman who doesn’t mean any harm. It’s probably best if the kids stay away from her though.”
“That’s not good enough!” Wunder’s mother was yelling now. “This woman is luring bereaved, heartbroken children to a condemned house and convincing them to commit crimes for her! What would she have asked them to do next? Steal from us? Break into a store? Vandalize the cemetery?”
“Austra, please,” Wunder’s father said, his voice calm but a strained, forced kind of calm. “I’m sure Officer Soto knows how to do his job.”
Officer Soto looked uncomfortable. “I know you’re concerned,” he said. “But, well, Wunder was having problems before. It’s not the first time I’ve had to come to your house.”
This wasn’t what Wunder’s mother wanted to hear. She started yelling again. She started to cry. And that made Wunder feel terrible, but he was still trying to understand what had been said and what it meant for him. What it meant for his miracle.
“What about the tree branch?” he asked. No one heard him over the yelling. “What about the tree branch?” he shouted.
Officer Soto tried to crack his knuckles again, but nothing happened. “Well, that was a piece of public property,” he said. “There are laws letting you cut down Christmas trees in certain areas and laws letting you chop trees for firewood, but there’s no—you can’t—” For a moment, Officer Soto’s mouth moved, but no words came out. His hands opened in a what-can-I-say gesture. Then he said, “You can’t chop up any tree you like. In a graveyard and everything. I have to—I’m going to have to take the tree branch. I can’t do anything else.”
After all that, Wunder wasn’t even going to get the branch. He wasn’t going to be able to give it to the witch.
But what did it matter anyway? What had he thought the branch was going to do? Why had he thought the witch wanted it? She invites funeral attendees in … spying on them … coerce them into giving her money.
It seemed like nothing had been what he wanted it to be. It seemed like everything had been exactly as it appeared to be.
The bird was just a bird.
The tree was just a tree.
And the witch? She was just an old woman living in an old, abandoned house.
Nothing more.
“I don’t know what to tell you right now, Wunder,” Wunder’s mother said. “I don’t know what to think. You would never have done anything like this before.”
Wunder’s exhaustion had caught up to him. The heaviness in the room, the weight of his mother’s grief and his father’s helplessness—it was all pressing against him so hard. He had tried to make things better, but everything was worse now, far worse. He didn’t want to try anymore.
“I guess we’ve all changed,” he said.
Then he went to his room, and he shut the door. He shut the door on all of them.
Part Six
QUESTIONS
Chapter 38
Wunder lay in bed that night, and everything was confusing in his heart, loud in his heart. He didn’t know what to think. He didn’t know how he felt.
And then he did. He knew exactly how he felt. He felt the way he had when Milagros had died. He felt like she had died all over again.
And he knew why.
He had let himself think there were miracles. He had let himself think that, somehow, his sister could come back. That she had come back. That he wasn’t alone. That this horrible, terrible, overwhelmingly awful thing hadn’t happened to him, hadn’t happened to his family. But it had.
Milagros was dead. His sister was dead. She wasn’t going to come back. There was no way for her to come back. Nothing he had ever believed in was true, and his family was shattered into pieces, and the wo
rld was dark, dark, dark, and there was no brightness to be found anywhere.
Miracles did not exist.
He didn’t have any dreams that night. Not even one.
* * *
Wunder didn’t go to school the next day. He slept in, and no one came to wake him up. He spent the day lying in bed, his face turned toward the wall. The Miraculous was in his backpack, and he didn’t get it out.
He heard the phone ringing that afternoon and into the evening. His father was at work and his mother was almost certainly in her room, so no one answered it.
He didn’t go to school on Tuesday either. He didn’t stay in his room though. He spent the day biking around town. He knew someone would probably see him—after years of miracology and weeks of letter-delivering, almost everyone in town knew him by now—but he didn’t care. He biked past St. Gerard’s. He biked past the town hall. He biked past Safe and Sound Insurance and past the Lazar house.
He didn’t go past the cemetery though. He didn’t go anywhere near the woods.
He came home that afternoon, before school let out, before kids filled the streets, heading to their houses. He got enough snacks to last him the evening and then headed to his room.
But he stopped on the way there.
The door to his parents’ room was open. And no one was inside.
He heard the front door close about an hour later. Then the door to his parents’ room closed.
It was the first time Wunder’s mother had left the house in over a month. He wondered where she had been, but he was too tired to wonder for long.
Then his father came to see him after work that evening, another first. He hadn’t been in Wunder’s room since Milagros was born.
“How was school today?” he asked.
Wunder shrugged. He was back in bed. He was staring at the ceiling. He was trying his best to think about nothing.
“Fine,” he said.
Wunder’s father stood there in the doorway with his chin in his hand. He was frowning, and Wunder was sure he was going to tell him that he knew he had skipped school. He was sure that he was angry.