by K L Going
She tried to calm her mind, but her heart was pounding and she noticed the apple blossoms lay around her like snow. The moss beneath her hardened and the thud of a falling apple made her jump. She pressed close against the trunk of the tree.
“Concentrate,” Evie chided herself.
At first she couldn’t decide on a single image of her mom to focus on. There were too many crowding her brain—Mom at her pottery wheel, doing the dishes after dinner, teaching Evie’s lessons, lying in bed sick without her hair, asleep in the hospital . . . Then she thought of the way she remembered her mother best—the real Mom, healthy and beautiful. She remembered the way she’d looked when Evie was small and Mom would sit beside her in bed, reading a book in the lamplight.
Evie’s breathing slowed.
“Mom,” she whispered, “please come to me.”
She remembered her mother’s tall, graceful form and the feel of the soft skin of her arm. She pictured her spiraled hair falling thick around her shoulders and smelled the incense Mom burned in her studio, which always clung to her hair and clothes. She studied the pink glow of her mom’s cheeks and the way her eyes lit up with excitement as she turned the pages of the book. Evie heard the brush of the pages and the lullaby lilt of her mother’s voice.
Her eyes grew heavier and the wind became a comforting moan. She might have slipped into a peaceful sleep, but then she felt the soft touch of fingers brushing the hair back from her forehead. They traced the lines of her face, around her jaw, and over her lips. Evie opened her eyes and there was Mom, surrounded by a sweet golden light.
Her mother smiled, that familiar smile full of love, and she was saying something that Evie couldn’t quite make out because her mother’s voice was the same as the wind.
“Love you,” her mother seemed to say, leaning close until Evie could almost imagine she felt her mother’s breath against her face.
Then her mom straightened and looked right at Evie.
“Go home,” she whispered, but Evie shook her head.
She couldn’t leave when her mom was so close. She stood awkwardly and reached out, but her hands went through the image as if through mist.
Her mom said something else, only this time the wind was louder than her voice and Evie could barely make it out. It sounded as if Mom was saying she should be wise, or brave, or maybe both, but already the light was beginning to fade. Then her mother raised a single eyebrow in a gesture so familiar Evie stopped completely.
It was then that the apple fell into her hands. Evie caught it, and looked up just as the last of the golden glow faded away.
The image was gone.
“No,” she hollered. “Take me with you!”
The ground rumbled beneath her, and Evie lost her balance. She reached for the tree trunk to steady herself, but it was already sinking into the earth.
The wind swirled one last time around her, then the last grasping branch was reaching up from the ground and Evie knew this was her final chance.
She held the apple to her lips and took a bite.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Night Searchers
When Evie opened her eyes again she was shivering, lying on her back in the orchard, but the magical tree was no longer above her. There were only the spindly shapes of the ordinary apple trees and the barren earth below. Evie sat up and looked around.
“Mom?” she called, her voice scratchy. Night had fallen and Evie searched the darkness, but she knew without looking that her mother wasn’t there. She could feel the familiar emptiness—the loss that ached so much it made her chest throb.
“Mom, please,” Evie whispered. “It wasn’t enough! You have to come back. Let me try one more time . . .”
Pulling her legs in tight, she closed her eyes and concentrated. She traced every inch of her mom’s outline as she’d seen it before, going over it again and again until she could almost convince herself her mother would be there when she opened her eyes, but she knew that she wouldn’t. There was nothing but cold wind brushing up against her face.
Maybe I should have stayed, like Alex, Evie thought. Had she made the wrong choice?
She sniffed and ran the sleeve of her sweater across her face, then she stood up slowly. Her body was stiff and sore, and her teeth chattered. She looked around in the darkness.
Alex. Where was he right now? She wished he could’ve come back with her, but it didn’t matter now. He was where he belonged, and Evie told herself that was the truth of things, but it still left a bitter taste in her mouth.
Why did people have to go?
She was so intent on her thoughts that she barely noticed the light in the distance. Someone was calling her name. It was a man’s voice, only it wasn’t Father’s. Then there was a woman’s voice near to the first one. Evie ducked behind an apple tree and stood terribly still.
She heard footsteps.
“They’re gone if you ask me,” the man said, coming closer. “Curse got ’em for sure. I don’t even know why I volunteered to come out here at night in this godforsaken orchard. It was Maggie who browbeat me into it.”
“Aww, Burt, you’ve got a hard heart. Didn’t you see the look on that man’s face? Now how would you feel if it was your little girl? Not to mention Juanita. Doctor gave her sedatives from what I hear.”
“I should think so. Worst luck could befall a person to lose both sons. We ought to move when this is all over. I’m telling you, Lottie . . .”
“Oh, hush up and give another call.”
There was a pause and then the calling started again, and this time Evie was paying attention.
“Adam!”
“Eve!”
There was another pause and the sound of footsteps again, cracking fallen twigs and crunching against the ground. Someone gave a low chuckle.
“Feels silly as all get-out calling those names in a row like that. I swear this is the strangest place that ever existed. Only in Beaumont would two missing children be named Adam and Eve. Like a fairy tale sort of thing.”
The woman snorted.
“Adam and Eve weren’t from a fairy tale. They’re straight from the Bible, which you’d know if you ever went to church.”
“I’m just saying it’s strange is all. Two little kids lost in an apple orchard and one’s named Adam and the other’s named . . .”
Evie gasped. They had it wrong. His name was Alex, and they’d buried him days ago, so why would they be looking for him?
“Hold still. Did you hear that?”
“Oh, Lord, I hope it wasn’t a ghost . . .”
“Hush, I swear I heard something.”
Evie held her breath. She shifted position behind the tree and a twig snapped under her foot.
“There!”
“Adam? Is that you? Eve?”
“If something jumps out I’m going to run like heck.”
“Nothing’s going to jump out. It’s got to be . . .”
Evie stepped into the open. A flashlight beam hit her square in the face and she squinted to adjust her eyes. Near as she could tell there were two people staring back at her—a stout man and a tall, thin woman.
“Are you . . . alive?” the man asked, and the woman elbowed him in the ribs.
“Of course she is,” the woman said, and then she stepped toward Eve. “You’re Eve, ain’t that right?”
Evie nodded and the man and woman exchanged glances.
“What time is it?” Evie asked.
The man gave a huge harrumph. “Got to be almost midnight by now for sure. You two have had the whole town up looking for you. Now where’s your friend?”
Evie paused. “Alex?” she said at last. “He . . . he isn’t here.”
The woman took in a sharp breath.
“You shouldn’t say that, child,” she scolded. “We don’t want to speak of the dead. It’s the living one we’re asking about. Where’s Adam?”
Evie felt like her knees might give way.
“I . . . I don’t know what y
ou’re talking about,” she managed. “I want to see my father.”
The woman came nearer and took off her coat, draping it around Evie’s shoulders.
“You look ill,” she said. “You’ve got to be about frozen running around with no coat on in this weather.” She turned to the man. “Burt, I’m taking her inside.”
“All right,” Burt said, but then he turned to Evie one more time. “You’re sure you don’t know where the boy might be? His parents already lost one son, you know. They were twins even . . . Now this son is all they’ve got left. Were you playing together when you got lost?”
Evie’s stomach twisted, but she nodded slowly. “We got . . . separated,” she said, because she couldn’t think of what else to tell them. In fact, she couldn’t think straight at all. Two sons? Twins?
Everything was rushing back to her.
Alex racing toward his house, looking for someone . . . the two portraits that hung on the wall . . . the second bike that was exactly the same size as the first one . . .
The woman was guiding Evie forward.
“I’ll keep looking,” Burt said. “Least we found one of them.”
Evie’s feet moved blindly in the direction they were pointed. The woman was following a bright yellow string threaded from tree to tree.
“Didn’t want to get turned around out here,” she said. “That can happen real easy. This old orchard will eat you up if you’re not careful.” She laughed, but Evie couldn’t do the same.
Had it gotten Alex? Or had he been Adam?
She thought of the figure she’d seen at the grave site the day she and Father had arrived in Beaumont. That aloof, mournful figure. Then she remembered a day when she had been the one at a grave site and all she’d wanted was to go where Mom was going.
There was only one reason she was glad she hadn’t stayed behind, and now she wanted to reach him more than anything else in the world.
Father, she thought, I’m coming back.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Homecoming
The old house was completely lit against the black night. Evie fixed her eyes on the golden light streaming out of the windows and forced her feet to take a few more tired steps. She was almost there, but it took all of her energy to make it to the front porch. There were voices coming from inside, and finally Father was opening the door.
For a moment she wondered if he’d missed her, but then he was vaulting over the railing and she was in his arms.
“Evie,” he said, his voice trembling, “I can’t tell you how scared I was. I thought I’d lost you.”
Father held her so tight she could barely breathe, and Evie couldn’t help thinking that this night might have ended very differently. Father would have sat up waiting all night, every night. . . .
“Burt and I found her out in the orchard,” said the woman who’d brought Evie in. “I gave her my coat because she seemed half frozen.”
“Thank you,” Father said. “Thank you so much.”
He carried Evie up the porch steps and into the house. People Evie didn’t recognize cheered when Father brought her in.
“One more to go!” someone hollered, and everyone cheered again. Evie swallowed hard. Father slipped the coat off Evie’s shoulders and handed it back to the woman.
“I’ll be going home now,” she said. “Burt’s out looking for the other one, but I’ve got some aches in my bones. The temperature’s dropping quick. Wish I could stay, but it’s been a long night already.”
“Of course, of course,” Father murmured. He carried Evie into the living room and settled her onto a mound of blankets on the couch in front of the fireplace. The fire was blazing, and when Evie looked around the room, everything seemed the same as it had before she left. Even the spider plant was wilting in one corner.
Father studied her carefully in the flickering light, and his eyes glistened.
The heat from the fire felt amazingly good, pushing away the cold and allowing Evie’s teeth to stop chattering, but just when she was about to relax, a police officer came in and stood behind Father.
“I’ll need to have a few words with her,” the policewoman said, and Father nodded, but Evie shook her head. What would she say? That she’d eaten an apple from a magical tree and seen a place that couldn’t exist and that Alex . . .
“Give her a minute,” Father said. “She just got here. Let me get her something hot to drink and something to eat.”
The officer nodded, and Father got up as if to go, but he hesitated, looking Evie over from head to toe as if making sure she was all there.
“You’re okay?” he asked, and Evie nodded.
“I’ll be right back,” he said, sliding out of the living room. The policewoman sat down in one of the rockers near the fireplace. She smiled kindly at Evie, then turned to the person in the other rocker, who was half hidden in the shadows.
“Hello there, Maggie,” she said. “You’re still here, eh?”
It was the first time Evie had noticed Maggie. She was sitting in the rocker farthest from the fireplace, bundled in blankets, and she looked tired and older than Evie had seen her look. Her long hair was loose and it fell about her shoulders. She nodded at the policewoman, then turned back to Evie.
“Hello, Eve,” she said. “I’ve been worried about you.”
Their eyes met, and Evie flushed, remembering the promise she’d broken. She wished the policewoman were not sitting right there so she could apologize and tell Maggie the whole story.
Then Maggie’s face softened.
“It’s just good that you’re back,” she said, as if reading Evie’s thoughts.
Father came in with a bowl of leftover soup and a steaming mug of peppermint tea. He set the tray down next to the couch, and Evie sat up so she could eat. Father sat next to her and brushed the hair back from her forehead. With a pang she remembered Mom doing the same. It had felt wonderful, but Father’s touch felt wonderful, too, and Evie wondered how she could have forgotten that.
She took a few spoonfuls of the soup and the police officer glanced at Father, then took out her pad of paper.
“I’m glad you’re back, Eve,” she said. “I’ll need to ask you a few questions, but I want you to know that you’re not in any trouble. We just need as much information as possible to help us locate the missing boy. Whatever help you can give us would be appreciated. I saw his mom and dad just before I came here, and they are beside themselves with worry. His mother sits in her rocker praying for his return, and she won’t stop even for a moment.”
Evie looked down, trying not to imagine that scene. The policewoman cleared her throat.
“Were you with Adam today?”
Evie hesitated. This much of the truth she could tell.
“The boy I was with said his name was Alex.”
“Can you tell us about him?”
Evie thought it over.
“He had brown eyes and dark hair that he never combed so it fell in his face a lot, and he always wore a big black overcoat and black pants. I saw him the day of the funeral and he was wearing the same thing.”
The police officer sorted through a pile of loose papers in her notebook and pulled out a photograph of two boys in soccer uniforms, one leaning on the other’s shoulder. They were both laughing and the second boy was making rabbit ears above the first one’s head.
“Is this what the boy looked like?”
Evie studied the picture carefully. It was Alex—twice. The boys looked so much alike she couldn’t tell which one she’d known.
“Yes,” Evie said.
“This is a photograph of Adam and Alex,” the policewoman said. “Alex died almost two weeks ago after a long illness.”
Evie shook her head.
“But why would he . . . Adam . . . lie about who he was?”
Maggie clucked from the rocking chair. “That’s a complicated question, Eve. Sometimes we wish we were the person who died because it’s so painful to lose a person we love, or some
times we think it ought to have been us in the first place.”
Father nodded from his place beside Evie on the couch.
“Maggie’s right,” he said. “I’ve often wished I could have taken your mom’s place.” Evie looked up quick, but Father shrugged. “She was so much . . . better . . . at life than I am, and I know she would have handled things the right way . . . with you, I mean. But I guess we don’t have much choice sometimes.”
Evie sank deep into the blankets on the couch. She wished she could close her eyes and wake up in a world where none of this had happened, but the police officer was leaning forward to ask another question.
“Where and when did you last see Adam?”
Evie tried to think how she could answer. No one would believe the truth and what good would it do to tell it? Even if the tree hadn’t disappeared, she wasn’t sure Alex . . . or Adam . . . would come back.
Then she thought of Father vaulting over the railing and Adam’s mother waiting in her rocker.
“We were playing by a tree in the center of the orchard,” she said finally. “Then we went into town and that’s where I last saw him.”
The officer made a note in her pad.
“Did he seem to want to do himself harm?”
“No.”
“Do you believe he was thinking clearly? Maybe he was taking medicine or . . .”
Evie thought over all of her encounters with Adam before they’d eaten the apple.
“He seemed fine,” she said thoughtfully. “I wish I had known. If I’d asked him more questions or thought about things . . .”
She glanced at Father.
“It’s all right, Evie,” he said. “You couldn’t have done anything different.”
Evie wondered if he’d say that if he knew the true story.
Father stood up and paced back and forth. “I want to go out and look for the boy.”
The policewoman stopped writing.
“You asked me to stay here in case Evie called or came back,” Father said, “and I sure as heck didn’t want to, but it was good reasoning, so I did it. But she’s safe now and that boy isn’t. Now his parents are stuck at home just like I was, and no one should have to go through that. There are searchers in town already, and I know the orchard better than anyone.”
