by Бри Деспейн
"Daniel?" Dad asked.
Something was very wrong with the look in my father's eyes.
Daniel gave a slight nod and went with him.
Dad must have sensed my longing to follow. "Gracie, go help your mother," he said. His voice was so strained it sounded like he was holding his breath as he spoke.
I stood in the grass and watched them go around behind the house. The deputy and sheriff grumbled and trudged over to their car. Our friends and neighbors trickled away-just like my hope for fixing Daniel and Jude.
Chapter Twelve
Questions unanswered
IN THE HOUSE, ABOUT TWENTY MINUTES LATER
My mother flipped into full Florence Nightingale mode. She refused to let the sheriff take James to the hospital in Oak Park, insisting that she and Dr. Connors were quite capable of looking him over. After a very thorough examination by the doctor, she finally let James out of her arms and ordered Charity to get started on a bath to warm him up. Then she put Superman Band-Aids on the scratches Don Mooney had somehow gotten up his arm, and sent the last of our lingering guests home with leftovers from our abandoned dinner. I was about to sneak out the back door to try to find Daniel when Mom called me over to the kitchen table.
"Let's take a look at your hand."
I winced as she picked a few rocks out of the cut.
She clucked her tongue. "You're lucky you don't need stitches."
I let her clean my hand and tried not to squirm. I figured the less I protested, the faster I could get to Daniel. He'd promised to explain things to me. But what if he decided to slip away? I'd seen the things he could do, and with Jude's false accusations, Daniel could be out of the state before I could even start looking for him.
Mom placed my hand in a bowl of hydrogen peroxide. "Just relax for a minute," she said, and unpacked the gauze and tape from her first-aid kit.
Little bubbles tingled up from all over my skin. My mind wandered, replaying the things Daniel had done in the woods--and how it felt to run with him in the dark. I barely noticed as Mom dried my hand and wrapped it with gauze.
"All done." She patted down the last piece of medical tape and held my hand for a moment. "Gracie," she said without looking up at me. "Please do not invite that boy into our home again." She laid my hand on the table between us and busied herself packing everything back into her kit.
I nodded even though she probably couldn't see.
"Mom," Charity called down the stairs. "James refuses to get out of the bath until he has his blanket."
"I'll get it," I said, glad for the momentary distraction.
Mom nodded. "I'll be up in a minute," she called back to Charity.
I checked James's room first, but Aunt Carol was asleep in the guest bed in his room. She'd excused herself with a headache as soon as Dr. Connors announced that James was in perfect health. I remembered that
James's blanket was probably still in the study.
The doors were slightly ajar when I slipped inside. James's Portacrib was still on its side. I tipped it upright and found the blankie. I picked it up and was about to dash off to the upstairs bath when a sudden thought stopped me. If James had really wandered off, wouldn't he have taken this with him? That blue rag of a crocheted blanket went everywhere my little brother did. He never left it behind.
Daniel's words when I said that James couldn't have gone so far into the woods echoed in my ears: On his own, no.
Was it a mistake to send the sheriff away? It seemed like they had just arrived when Daniel and I returned with James. Had they taken pictures or looked for any clues?
Jude had accused Daniel, but that couldn't be. My father insisted that it was just an accident. But Daniel--he had been afraid of something.
I looked around the study, really noticing things for the first time since I entered. Dad's books and papers were strewn across the floor. His lamp was tipped over, and the drawer of his desk was open. It looked like a small earthquake had erupted inside of it. Had an intruder been in here looking for something? But wouldn't we have heard any of this commotion in the dining room? Maybe Mom had started throwing things while she was so distraught? Several books were missing from the bookcase. The bookcase!
I lunged over to it and stretched up on my toes. I fingered along the top shelf, back and forth. The black velvet case--the one that held Don's silver dagger--was gone.
UPSTAIRS
My first instinct was to tell Dad about his study. But then I realized that he'd been in there with Mom. Wouldn't he have seen all this mess already? And still, he was the one who sent the sheriff away. He was the one who insisted that nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Perhaps it was my mother who had made the mess, and he wanted to spare her any questioning by the police. It would not have bode well with her OCD tendencies to have Deputy Marsh poking through our things or tearing up the house. But why was that knife missing? Did Dad even know? I hadn't told him I'd moved it.
"Grace. We need that blanket," Charity yelled down the stairs.
I shut the study doors behind me and dashed up to the bathroom. "Here." I handed the blanket to Mom.
"Banket!" James stood up in the bath. Bubbles ran down his little body.
"Finally," Charity said, and pulled him out of the tub. She wrapped him in a towel and handed him to Mom.
He nuzzled his blanket to his face. Mom held him tight.
I decided not to mention anything about the study to her. I didn't know what mode she'd flip into if I said anything to worry her. I'd question Dad later.
But the person I really wanted to talk to was Daniel. What did he know about all this? Why had he seemed so afraid? Was it somehow related to the things he could do?
"Bathroom's all yours," Mom said to me. "Clean up before you do anything else." She shook her head at my mud-caked sweater and slacks.
"You smell like a dog that's been running in the cold." Charity made a gagging face.
"Howy shwit," James cooed.
Mom blinked at me. "What did he just say?"
"No idea," I said, and shooed them out of the bathroom.
I took a quick shower--at least as fast as I could without getting my bandaged hand wet.
What if I couldn't get to Daniel before he was done helping my dad?
I wrapped up in a towel and wiped the steam from the bathroom window. I peered out through the filmy glass. All I could see was the narrow gap in the white outline of the fence. I flipped off the bathroom light and made out what looked like my dad, kneeling in the grass near the decaying rosebushes. It looked like he was praying--perhaps giving thanks for James's safe return. But then he rocked forward and back on his knees, and his hands flew up to his face. His shoulders bounced up and down in a weird jerking way.
I grabbed my bathrobe. Dad needed me with him. But someone else stepped out of the shadows near the fence. He knelt next to my father, hesitated for a moment, and then wrapped his long, lean arms around Dad's quaking shoulders. I stepped back and blinked, and the window fogged over with steam.
I pulled tight the tie on my terry-cloth robe, bounded down the stairs, and ran smack into my mother.
"Where do you think you are going in that, young lady?" She scoffed at my robe and pointed to the dining room, where Don was telling Charity a story about his grandfather. "We still have guests in this house."
"But Da--" I saw the annoyed look on her face and remembered the way she'd sarcastically yelled at Dad for blaming himself for Maryanne's death. He didn't need that now. "I just have to do something real quick.
"Go put something decent on."
I grumbled under my breath and started up the stairs for a quick change of clothing.
"And did you take your muddy clothes down to the laundry or dump them on the bathroom floor?" "I'll do it later. I need to--"
"What you need to do is get dressed and then get your dirty clothes in the wash before they're ruined. Money doesn't appear like manna around here."
"But--"
"Now." And I swear she gave me this look like she thought I was up to something she wouldn't approve of. "Fine."
My legs ached and protested as I staggered up to my bedroom. All that running in the woods had taken its toll. I pulled on the first clothes I could find--a long-sleeved tee and a pair of paint-splattered overalls my mother particularly hated. I grabbed my dirty laundry from the bathroom and hobbled all the way down to the basement.
I was busy blaming Mom in my head for potentially ruining my chances to talk to Daniel and my father, when I heard low voices coming from Jude's bedroom. I could make out Jude's somber voice and April's cocker spaniel-like yips of reassurance. I clutched my bundle to my chest and inched toward Jude's door.
"It's not fair," I heard him say.
"Why?" April asked.
"You don't understand. They don't understand." Jude's voice went lower. "How can they not see what he's doing?"
April said something I couldn't make out.
"It's wrong. He's wrong. Everything about him is wrong," Jude said. "I'm the good one. I'm the one who does everything this family needs. I'm the one who is here every day for them, and now he's back for a few hours, and they believe him over me. Dad and Grace act like he's some kind of hero." His voice twanged. "How can Dad believe him, after what he did?"
"What?" April asked. "What did he do?"
Jude sighed.
Any pang of guilt I felt for eavesdropping was overpowered by my desire to hear the answer to that question--and by burning jealousy that he might tell April the thing he'd refused tell me for three years.
Jude whispered something, and I leaned in closer to hear.
"Grace!" Mom shouted down the stairs. "Make sure you use stain spray."
I jumped back from the door and dropped my bundle. Jude's voice cut off, followed by shifting noises behind his door. I gathered up my clothes and hurried off to the laundry room.
LATER THAT NIGHT
Daniel was gone by the time I made it outside. He wasn't in the back or the front yard. Neither was Dad. It had been only about fifteen minutes since I'd seen them through the bathroom window, so I decided to take a car and track Daniel down at his apartment--catch him with my questions before he could skip town--but no keys were on the hooks. Dad kept the truck at the parish, and Jude must have still had the van keys. But strangely, the Corolla was not in the garage.
I resigned myself to the fact that any more searching would be futile, and decided to help Mom and Don Mooney clean up the dining room.
I wasn't surprised Don had stuck around. He'd probably ask to move into Jude's room when my brother went off to college next year. However, Don's idea of "cleaning" involved eating the food off of people's forgotten plates.
I reached for the half-empty goblet in front of him.
Don stopped picking at the Band-Aids on his arm and gave me a huge turkey-in-his-teeth grin. "You look real pretty tonight, Miss Grace."
I fingered my wet curls and wondered if I'd gained a new admirer for sticking up for him with my father the other day. "Thanks, Don," I mumbled, and picked up the goblet.
"You were real brave, too," he said, "going into the woods to find your brother. I wish I'd been there. I'd have protected you from the monster. My granddaddy told me how. He was a real hero." Don rubbed his injured arm against his chest.
I smiled. But then I thought of the jumbled contents of my father's office. Mom had taken a load of dishes into the kitchen, hut I lowered my voice just in case. "Don, while everyone was searching for James, did you go into the study?"
His eyes shifted sideways. "I ... I ... was just lookin' for something. I didn't mean to make such a mess. Everyone came back inside before I could clean up." He rocked in his chair like he was about to bolt.
Relief washed over me. "It's okay, Don." I smiled at him. "I won't tell anybody. But you really should put the knife back."
Don lowered his droopy eyelids. "Yes, Miss Grace."
Mom came back and noticed me fumbling her china plates with my bandaged hand and sent me off to bed. I went without protest, even though I didn't have much hope for sleeping--or much hope for anything else. Mom was upset with me for inviting Daniel over; Dad's roller coaster of despair had hit maximum velocity; my older brother was on the verge of a breakdown of his own; and Daniel was most likely gone. But at least I knew where that knife was. And it hadn't been stolen by some sinister intruder.
Strange--that was the first time I'd ever thought of Don as harmless.
I lay on top of my bed, my mind racing with all of the strange things that had happened during the day, until the house grew dark and silent. It felt like hours had passed since I heard Don make his loud good-byes. I was still in my clothes, so I decided to get up and change. I pulled off my overalls and shirt and found my most comfortable pair of pajamas. White flannel dotted with little yellow rubber duckies. I was standing in my flannel pants and pink bra when I heard a tapping noise behind me.
I turned and saw a dark silhouette outside my second-story window. I jumped and almost screamed. Images of the study's bloodstained windowsill ripped through my mind.
"Grace," came a muffled voice through the glass. The shadow moved closer to the window. It was Daniel.
Embarrassment replaced fear. I crossed my tingling arms in front of my chest--not that I had much to hide, but still. I turned my back to him and grabbed my terry-cloth robe. It was still damp from my shower, but I pulled it on anyway. I went to the window and pushed it open. "What are you doing here?"
Daniel balanced on the sloping roof outside my room. "I promised we'd talk." He stared at me through the thin mesh screen. "Can I come in?"
Chapter Thirteen
Hounds of heaven
ROOFTOPS
Heat flushed up my arms and chest. Fm sure I went as pink as my bra. I pulled my robe tighter around me. "I ... I can't let you in."
Mom hadn't made me promise, but I felt like I should respect her wishes not to invite Daniel in the house again. It was the least I could do for her now.
"Then you'll have to come out." With a flick of his hand, he pushed the screen out of my window. It landed at my feet, looking perfectly untouched. Not mangled and broken like the time Jude had shimmied the screen out of the study's window just below us. "Come on." He reached for me through the window frame.
Before I could even think, I put my hand in his. He pulled me up and out and into his arms. He held me to him, his fingers twisting with the sash of my robe against my back.
"I thought you were gone," I whispered.
"A promise is a promise." His breath warmed my damp hair. He grasped both of my hands and lowered me to sit next to him on the narrow eave of the roof. He wore jeans now and the red-and-black coat I'd given him. He hadn't had it with him when he showed up earlier for dinner.
My robe wasn't as warm as a coat, and my feet were bare, but I didn't mind. "I'm glad you came back."
Daniel grinned. It was an almost-grimacing smile-- pained. That's when I noticed, in the dim light from my bedroom, the purplish-green bruise across his cheekbone.
"You're hurt." I touched his face.
He leaned his cheek into my hand.
"I'm sorry. You're hurt because of me. I'm the one who made up the story about the creek. I'm the one who made Jude--"
"Don't be sorry. None of this was ever your fault." Daniel clasped his hand over mine. "I'll be fine soon anyway."
He closed his eyes and pressed my bandaged hand against his cheekbone. His skin grew warmer under my touch. My palm started to sweat. His skin flared hot. Just as it felt like it was going to burn me, the heat tingled away. Daniel dropped his hand, and I pulled mine back.
His skin was bare. No bruises or marks of any kind.
"You really are a superhero," I whispered.
Daniel leaned against the house. His feet dangled over the side of the roof. "I'm nothing of the sort."
"How can you say that? I've seen the things you can do. You could totally help peopl
e. And you saved James." I scratched at my bandage. My hand and feet throbbed, and I ached all over. The power to heal myself would come quite in handy right about now. "I wish I could do some of those things."
He clasped his fingers around his smooth stone necklace. "You wouldn't like the side effects."
"Are you kidding? I'd do anything to be like you."
"No, you wouldn't." Daniel glanced at me. His eyes flashed with that hungry glint. "That's what makes you so special."
A frightened shiver rushed through my body. Part of me wanted to climb back into my room and lock the window. But most of me wanted him to take me in his arms and run away from everything and everyone.
"You are special, you know," Daniel said, and brushed my arm.
"Daniel, I..."
Daniel winced and pulled away. He clutched the black necklace tighter and mumbled something I couldn't understand between sharp breaths.
"Are you okay?" I stretched out my hand to him.
"Please, don't." He shrugged off my touch and backed up against the side of the house. He pulled his legs to his chest, as if creating a barrier between us. His body quaked. He closed his eyes, panting. His trembling stopped, but he still clenched his pendant in a rigid fist.
"Is that what gives you your ... abilities? The necklace?"
Daniel kept his eyes closed. "No." "Then how? What?"
He let air out between his teeth. "I should leave you."
"But I want to know everything."
"I'm sorry, Gracie. i really should go."
I folded my arms. "You're not getting off that easy. A promise is a promise, remember," I said in my bossy Grace voice.
Daniel stopped and his mouth edged into a grin. "You have no idea what you do to me."
I blushed, but I wasn't going to let him distract me. "Is this why you left town? Or did this happen to you while you were gone? How did you become what you are? Tell me, please."
"Nothing happened to me. Not exactly. I guess you could say I was born this way."
"I don't remember you being like ... this." But then I remembered all those times as a child that he seemed to have bruises in the morning that were gone by the afternoon, or limps that mysteriously disappeared. I remembered how baffled Daniel's doctor had been when his skull fracture healed in a matter of weeks rather than months.