by K L Going
Evie turned to Father. It was just the two of them now.
“Let’s go,” Father said, reaching out to take her mittened hand in his thick glove. “Sooner we plant this seed, the sooner we can get back home, where we belong.”
Evie nodded, and she was surprised to realize that when Father said “home” she thought of the old house with Maggie waiting by the fire like she’d promised.
She squeezed Father’s hand tight.
“There’s my scarf,” she said, spotting the last of the red fabric hanging loosely off the tree branch. Father ducked underneath and Evie followed, squinting to see through the fierce white streaks of snow. Her nose was running, and soon her pant legs were crusted with ice, and she was glad she’d worn all her layers to keep warm.
She wouldn’t have found the spot where she’d planted the seed, but Father knew the trees well. “This is it,” he said, kicking away the snow around Rodney’s grave with his boot. He knelt down and used his pocketknife to dig a hole in the dirt.
“The ground is probably frozen underneath, but this stuff on top is all right. It’s old soil and won’t have any nutrients, but . . .”
Evie put her hand on Father’s arm.
“It’s not that kind of tree,” she said, and then she took off one mitten and poured the seed into the small hole Father had dug. She covered it over and held her breath. At first she felt nothing, but then the familiar wind picked up around her.
“Can you see the seed growing?” Evie hollered when the tiniest green shoot had started up out of the earth. She pulled Father backward so the tree would have room to grow.
“I’m . . . trying,” he said, studying the soil.
“I wish you could see it,” Evie said, but Father shook his head.
“It doesn’t matter if I can see it or not.” He hugged her tight, and Evie watched as the tree grew taller and fuller.
“I hope I can bring Adam back,” she said. “What if he won’t go? What if the tree disappears? What if—”
Father put one finger over her mouth.
“No more ‘what ifs,’” he said. “I believe in you.”
The branches of the tree unfurled one by one and filled with blossoms.
“It’s almost grown,” Evie said, holding out her hands. Mixed in with the snow were the falling petals. Then amid the ever swirling white, she saw the first of the bright red apples.
“It’s time,” she said, taking several steps forward. Father’s gaze never left her as she reached up and plucked the apple. She watched him standing there with the snow drifting silently around him, his brow furrowed tight, but then his face changed, softening with wonder.
“Do you see it now?” she whispered, but Father shook his head.
“No,” he said, “but for a moment you looked just like your mom. All grown up.”
Evie held the apple tightly. For the first time since Mom died, she felt her mother’s presence, not as something outside of herself that she’d brought to life, but as something inside of her—as something she was.
She looked back at Father and smiled, then lifted the apple to her lips.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Back to the Garden
This time the moment she bit the apple and the world began to spin, Evie didn’t hesitate. She ran forward into the blossoms. She glanced back once to see Father’s form fading through the snow, and then he was gone and she was falling faster and faster, her eyes squeezed tight and her hands clenched, until suddenly she found herself standing in a sea of daffodils. When she turned, the tree was right behind her, fresh and green and laden with apples. Evie wondered if Father was still standing in exactly the same spot, but she couldn’t see him.
I wonder if Mom is nearby, too, she thought, and for a single moment she allowed herself to soak in the warmth and imagine the three of them together, closer than her eyes could see.
Then she thought of Adam. Somewhere his parents were waiting.
Evie stripped off her coat and mittens and left them in a pile, then she ducked under the branches and raced out of the orchard. She found the bike right where she’d left it and got on, pedaling hard. When she reached town she went into every store that was open, calling out Adam’s name, but there was no sign of him. The library was locked and Maggie’s shop was empty except for the mess of brambles and vines.
Where are you? Evie thought, trying to imagine where she might have gone if she were Adam.
She got back on the bike and pedaled to his house, but when she arrived the house sat silent and still, just the way they’d left it. Evie walked up the front steps and pushed open the door, but there was no sound of laughter to accompany her this time. Instead she walked from room to empty room, looking for any sign that Adam had passed through. She paused in front of the portrait that still hung uncovered.
“Alex the Great,” she murmured. “I wish I could have known you for real.”
Then she stopped.
In a way, she had. She’d known someone almost exactly like him who’d laughed and teased and balanced on gravestones.
Gravestones . . .
Evie wondered why she hadn’t thought of them sooner. She turned and ran out of the house, down the front steps, and through the secret shortcut Adam had shown her. When she emerged on the other side, the graveyard was in the distance, and Evie could already see a patch of growth that hadn’t been there the day before.
She sprinted across the open field.
“Adam?” she called when she got to the edge of the cemetery, but there was no answer. She walked as far as she could until she reached the brambles and pricker bushes that were now woven tightly between the graves. At the center she was certain she would find the stone she was looking for, but first she had to reach it.
There was only one way through.
Evie closed her eyes and concentrated hard, pushing away the life that wasn’t meant to be there. She imagined all of it flowing back where it belonged. Back to the real world of Beaumont.
Inch by inch the vines began to retreat, but Evie didn’t let her focus slip. She pictured the flowers all around town disappearing and the cherries falling from the cherry tree in her yard and the overgrown weeping willow wilting. . . . She imagined every bit of life that the first Eve had stolen returned to the world it had come from.
Evie felt as if an ice-cold river were running through her veins, but she wasn’t afraid. Not anymore.
Finally she opened her eyes.
The graveyard was empty and barren, just as it had been back home, and Alex’s stone lay several yards ahead of her. She walked over to it, expecting to find Adam, but he wasn’t there. Instead she saw a small wooden heart that said I Love You in the middle.
Evie crouched down and picked it up.
It was Adam’s sign.
“Adam?” she called. She turned, scanning for the statue of the angel. “I know you’re here.”
Beneath its billowing robe she saw the tiniest shred of fabric.
Evie hugged Adam’s sign tight and made her way to the statue. The angel looked tall and regal, his eyes forever glued on the horizon, guarding the children he’d always protect. But only one of those children could stay.
“If you’re playing hide-and-seek,” Evie said, “you’re not a very good hider, because I can see the edge of your pants.”
She waited a moment, then finally Adam stuck his head out.
“What are you doing here?” he asked crossly. “I thought you went back home.”
Evie leaned against the gravestone across from the angel. “I did,” she said, sliding down, “but I had to come back. I know the truth, Adam, and I won’t leave you here.”
He frowned. “How did you get back? I thought you said the tree was going to fade.”
“It did,” Evie said, “but I found another seed. Father and Maggie helped me look for one.”
“You told them?”
Evie nodded. “Yup. I told them the whole story.”
“And they beli
eved you?”
“Yeah,” Evie said, thinking it over. “They did.” She waited a moment. “You know, your parents are looking for you. The police officer said your mom won’t stop praying for you to come back. And your dad called our house a million times last night when the searchers were there.”
“The police are looking for me?”
“The whole town is looking for you. No one’s mad. They just want you home again.”
Adam ducked back beneath the angel’s robe and leaned against its legs. “Well, I’m not coming home,” he said stubbornly. “There’s no turning back for Alex the Great.”
“How about Adam the Great?”
“There is no Adam the Great,” Adam spat. “There never was.” Evie raised one eyebrow just like Mom would have.
“Yes, there is! I met him and he could balance on gravestones, even the thin, slippery ones, and he could run way faster than me, although I’m a pretty fast runner, and he told stories that were so good I believed every word even after I said I wasn’t going to.”
Adam was quiet for a long time.
“You think no one notices you,” Evie said, “but they do.” She handed him the wooden heart. “I found this by your brother’s gravestone. Maybe someone left it here as a sign for you.”
“Do you think so?”
Evie nodded. “Yeah. Maybe they need your superpowers.”
“You know, I don’t really have any, Evie. Alex was the one who could do anything. I wish he’d come back.”
Evie blew the bangs out of her eyes with a puff of breath. “I know what you mean,” she said. “Mom was good at everything, and I miss her a thousand times a day.”
“That’s why we should change things,” Adam said, “bring them to life, like I told you . . .”
“But you’ve been trying, haven’t you? And your brother still isn’t here.” Evie could see only half of Adam’s face where the angel’s robe split, but his eyes looked heavy and tired.
“I know,” he admitted. “Once he was so close I could nearly touch him, but then he faded away. I must not be trying hard enough, only I’m trying so hard!”
“You can’t outstubborn everything.”
“How do you know?” Adam demanded. “Maybe if we try together . . .”
Evie shook her head. “I already tried to reach my mom,” she said. “Just before the tree faded, I saw her for a moment. It was so real . . . only she wanted me to go home to Father.”
“Did she say that?”
“No, but she gave me the apple before it was too late. I bet your brother would have done the same for you if he could have.”
Adam laid his head against his knees.
“I can’t go home without Alex,” he whispered.
“But do you think Alex would want you to stay here?” she asked. “He seemed pretty fun. Maybe a bit of a pain, but . . .”
A small smile passed over Adam’s lips. “He was fun,” he said. “Alex would do anything, and he never got scared or lost. He always made me laugh, even when we were fighting, and he could tell the very best stories out of anyone I knew.”
“Like this one?”
Adam nodded.
The two of them sat quietly for a long while, hidden between the gravestones. The sun was fading and thin gray clouds slid overhead. Evie hugged her arms tight.
“I bet wherever your brother is, he’s having amazing adventures. I think he would want you to do the same.”
Adam shook his head. “I don’t want to have adventures anymore,” he said, his eyes glistening.
“But I do,” Evie said. “And they won’t be any fun without Adam the Great. Please come with me?”
She stood up and reached out one hand, then waited for Adam to make his choice. For a moment he didn’t move and Evie wondered if he would stay here forever, lost to the real world just like Maggie’s sister. But finally he reached out one solid hand to latch on to hers.
“Okay,” he said at last.
Evie grinned, but only for a moment. The minute her eyes left Adam’s they swept across the graveyard toward her house. The walls were bare, and the blossoms in the orchard were already fading away. Dark clouds were rolling in, and the smell of rain was sharp and crisp.
“What’s happening?” Adam asked, crawling out from beneath the angel’s robe.
“I don’t know,” Evie said. “I wished things back the way they should’ve been, but I didn’t think everything would disappear so quickly!” She thought of the tree, wondering if it would still be there by the time they reached it.
“We’d better hurry,” she said, pulling Adam forward.
Together they ran out of the graveyard, passing her house, where the morning glories had closed and the willow tree drooped. Their feet squished fallen cherries, and a clap of thunder sounded angrily. Ahead of them the wind whipped, picking up blossoms from the ground and swirling them like snow.
Lightning flashed and the ground beneath their feet changed from lush green to cold, brittle brown. Evie looked frantically for her scarf to mark their entrance, but it was gone.
“Which way?” Adam asked, trying to count the rows. He gave up in frustration. “You pick, Evie.”
Evie took a deep breath and stood still and tall, remembering the way Mom’s voice had mingled with the wind. Only now she didn’t listen with her ears. Instead she stared at each of the rows ahead and let her instincts guide her.
“This way,” she said, pulling Adam forward.
Rain fell in hard, pounding droplets. All around them the branches were shriveling and the sound was like crackling wood thrown into a fire.
Evie imagined their perfect tree shedding its skin.
“Faster,” she breathed.
The ground sloped down and they reached the final bend just as the earth began to rumble. Evie strained to see around the corner, until finally she spotted their withered tree waiting in the center of the row.
“There aren’t any apples left,” Adam called, but Evie shook her head.
“Look on the ground,” she ordered, and together they got down on their knees to scour the glassy grass. Evie was concentrating so hard, she didn’t even notice when the pounding rain turned into huge snowflakes.
The rumbling grew louder, making a pit in Evie’s stomach. The tree began to sink and Evie lunged for it, hanging on to the trunk with all her might, but it slipped from her grip. Beside her Adam grabbed at a branch and leaned back, pulling as hard as he could, but the ground shifted beneath them and then the last branches grasped upward, like bony fingers reaching out from a grave.
“Mom, help us. Please,” Evie wailed, but this time there wasn’t a comforting light. There was only the hard ground coming up fast as the last limbs slipped below the earth.
Chapter Thirty
A Tiny Twig
The last thing Evie remembered was the slam of her body against the ground as the tip of the tree branch disappeared. The air left her lungs in a painful rush, and the world went black.
When she opened her eyes again, she was lying on her back in the thick snow, looking up. Thunder clapped overhead and the world looked exactly as she’d left it.
Except for one thing.
Father was kneeling above her.
“It can’t be,” she whispered. “There wasn’t an apple to eat!”
Adam’s head joined Father’s.
“Are you all right?” Father asked. “You must have fallen.”
Evie reached out to see if he was real, but he pulled her to her feet and wrapped her in a bear hug. He squeezed hard, just as he had when she was small.
“How did we get here?” Evie asked when she let go. “Did you see what happened?”
Father shook his head.
“I only saw Adam come running through the snow.”
Adam was looking around, his eyes wide.
“I thought we were stuck there forever, but when I looked around, there was here, and I saw your father waiting. At first I thought he was Alex,” he said, “b
ut he was too tall.”
“It doesn’t matter how you got back,” Father said. “Just so long as you’re here.”
Evie nodded, but she couldn’t stop thinking about the tree.
It’s gone, Evie thought, and there were no more seeds left. Then she had another thought. Perhaps someday she wouldn’t need a seed to find a magical garden. Or her mom.
But only when the time was right.
“Come on,” Father said, “it’s too cold to stay out here any longer. Let’s get you both home.”
Evie took his hand and allowed Father to lead her away, but she still felt dazed, as if she couldn’t quite shake the magical world that she’d come from. She stared at the trees around her, remembering what they’d looked like when they’d been in bloom.
Then Evie stopped and drew in her breath.
“Father, look!” she said, breaking off a twig from a nearby tree. “The trees here aren’t as bad as the others, are they?”
Father took the twig and turned it over on his palm. He glanced around them at the patch of trees they’d been walking through.
“Well, I’ll be,” he murmured. “I don’t know how I could have missed these.” He peered down the long line of apple trees. “I’ve been through here a ton of times.” He paused. “I wonder if there are others hidden away that I haven’t noticed yet.”
Adam leaned forward. “How can you tell which ones are okay?”
“See here?” Father said, shaking the new snow off the twig. “The bark of the tree is brown. Just like it should be. It’s still old, but the outer layer is nearly healthy. And underneath . . .” He took out his pocketknife and cut open the bark. “The inside layer was alive all along, but the scarring on the outside was stopping it from growing, only now that layer is nearly gone, so the tree will have a chance to live.” He paused. “Do you know what that means?”
Adam shook his head.
“Someday we might have apples. I wouldn’t have believed it, but then again I wouldn’t have believed a lot of things before today.”
Father studied Adam and Evie closely, then he held out the twig to Adam.
