Nana Pete presses her fingers against her lips and rushes up alongside Mr. Little, as Agnes falls into step next to her mother. “Leonard, did he really sew them back on? How is that possible? There’s no way he could have done it correctly!” I walk behind the two of them closely.
Mr. Little looks at his mother out of the corner of his eye. “We’re going down to the Field House to put Benny to bed, Mother. He’s probably going to sleep through the night, which will be incredibly convenient, since we still have a lot of work to do for the Ascension March.”
“The march?” Nana Pete repeats. “Y’all are going ahead with the march, with all of this going on?”
Mr. Little looks genuinely perplexed. “Of course we are. Why wouldn’t we? Things are fine now. Everything’s back to normal.”
“Things aren’t back to normal, Leonard! Listen to me, please! At least just take him to the hospital to be checked out!” I follow behind Agnes and her mother, trying to keep out of Mr. Little’s line of vision. “What if he needs medicine, Leonard?” Nana Pete pleads. “Antibiotics, so he doesn’t get an infection?”
Mr. Little shakes his head, as if a fly is buzzing around it. “There is no need to take him to any hospital, Mother. When Benedict wakes up and starts to feel better, I’ll take the bandages off so you can see for yourself what kind of miracle Emmanuel performed.”
“Miracle?” Nana Pete shouts. She stops walking. “Leonard, you’ve lost your mind! You’re not thinking clearly!”
Now Mr. Little stops walking. “Enough!” His eyes are flashing. Nana Pete stares back at him, her face a pained question mark. “If you insist on continually questioning our choices as Believers, I am going to ask you to leave. Now.” And with that, he turns and continues walking down the hill. Mrs. Little hurries to catch up with him.
I watch as Agnes stares uncertainly at her parents, and then back again at Nana Pete. I take a step closer to Nana Pete, pressing myself against her side, and will her with my eyes to do the same.
“Come along, Agnes,” Mrs. Little calls suddenly, turning around. “It looks like you’re going to have to take care of Benny by yourself this afternoon.”
Agnes walks obediently behind her mother, but as they near the bottom of the hill, just past the lilac bushes, she turns her head and looks back at me. Her eyes are empty.
Nana Pete blots her face again with her handkerchief. She is sweating profusely.
“Are you all right?” I ask. She nods and then looks around the empty grounds. There is no one in sight.
“Change of plans, darlin’. We’re not going to wait for the Ascension March tomorrow night. We’re leaving in the next hour, as soon as Leonard and Samantha go back up to the Great House. We’ve got to get Benny looked at in a real hospital and we might as well split for good while we’re at it. Go get packed and meet me at the bottom of the hill in thirty minutes.”
I hold her gaze for a full moment before I realize she is dead serious. “What are you going to tell Agnes?”
Nana Pete looks away for a second. “You let me worry about that,” she says. “Now go.”
I’m in a dead run, halfway up the side of the hill leading to the Milk House before I realize that I’ll probably never see Winky or the butterfly garden again. The thought brings me to a screeching halt, as if someone has just yanked me backward with a length of cord. For a brief second, I consider turning back around and telling Nana Pete to go ahead without me, that I can’t do it. But that’s crazy. I’ve never wanted anything more than this in my life. There’s no way I’m turning back now.
Still, when I come over the rise and see Winky’s outline hunched over the butterfly bush, I feel like I might faint. There’s no way I can face him. Instead, I sneak back down the other side of the hill so I can get inside the house from the opposite side. I try to move quickly, but my legs feel stiff, like wood. I don’t have any kind of suitcase or carrying case, so I just empty the trash can and cram as many clothes as I can fit inside the liner bag. George and my butterfly notebook are the last two things to go in. I stuff George inside the toe of my sneaker and push my notebook all the way to the very bottom of my bag, where it won’t get crinkled or ripped. There. Done.
I tiptoe over to the window and press myself flat against the wall, leaning over just a bit until I can see Winky. His back is to me, and he is on his hands and knees, tamping down more of the new compost from Mr. Schwab under the butterfly bushes. My head races with possibilities. Should I tell him the truth? Or maybe just part of it, that we’re taking Benny to the hospital, but that we’ll be back? If I told him everything, would he tell someone eventually? I close my eyes. Oh my God. What should I do? Maybe I’ll just go out and pretend like nothing’s going on at all. He’d ask about the garbage bag full of clothes probably, but I could toss that on the side of the house so he wouldn’t see it and then go back for it afterward. I glance down at my watch. Only ten minutes left. I can’t afford to waste any more time.