The Garden of Darkness

“In The African Queen that’s how Katherine Hepburn gets the leeches off Humphrey Bogart. It’s the only movie I’ve seen.”


“What about SpongeBob SquarePants?” asked Sarai. “Have you seen SpongeBob SquarePants?”

“No.”

Sarai looked at Ramah as if she were from another planet.

Jem got the Bactine and some gauze and cleaned out the round mouth-wounds left by the leeches as best he could.

“There,” he said to Mirri. “You’re all set.”

Mirri was irrepressible once more, and she went with Clare and Bear when they went out to the barn to feed the cows. The cows were contentedly chewing their hay, and Clare pulled the great barn door closed to keep out the sharp wind before turning to Mirri.

When she did, she noticed that Mirri seemed different somehow. She looked, in a way that Clare could not have quantified, healthier.

“Those leeches were gross,” said Mirri.

“How do you feel now?” asked Clare.

“Actually,” said Mirri. “I feel really good. In fact, I feel terrific. It’s strange, but I don’t remember feeling this good in a long time. I feel like I’ve been half dead for all these months. D’you know what I mean?”

But Clare didn’t. Although, when it came right down to it, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been in the mood to do a cartwheel or a handspring or a back flip.

“I feel alive,” said Mirri.

“You’re absolutely glowing,” said Clare.





CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE





LEAVING THYME HOUSE





LATER THAT EVENING Tilda walked out of the woods near the pond, pale, thin and wraithlike, like the spirit of a tree out of some old story. She had grown taller, and to Clare she seemed a lot older.

“I heard you come in,” said Tilda. “But when I saw him”—she indicated Bird Boy—“I thought he might be a Cured.”

Bird Boy gazed at her mildly. “Not a Cured,” he said.

“Rick died four days ago,” Tilda continued. “I tucked him in. For the long night. We didn’t want to leave this place, and then it was too late. You’ll see—life here is good. But you have to remember to leave. I saw Mirri and Sarai in the garden just now and decided to come and see them. In case they needed help. In case you and Jem were dead.”

“Not dead,” said Bird Boy. He looked upset.

“We’re all right,” said Clare. “For now.”

“We’re going to Master’s,” said Jem.

“That’s what Rick said,” said Tilda sadly.

They ate together and then went through the ritual of picking a bedroom. They moved in the mattresses, sleeping bags, comforters, sheets and pillows and unloaded a stock of the food supplies. Tilda made it clear she would be more than happy to sleep in the same room with them that night.

While the others went to help Tilda round up the chickens and ducks she had released when she saw them coming to the farm (“I didn’t know who you were or how you’d treat them—I thought I should let them go”), Jem put the two packs he and Clare had been carrying against the wall.

Ramah was watching carefully.

Jem didn’t seem to notice her gaze as he set about putting more food and fresh clothes in the knapsacks, but Clare found that she couldn’t look Ramah in the eye.

“Were you thinking of leaving without me?” Ramah asked quietly.

Jem didn’t look up. “Yes,” he said. “You have more time than we do. And I’m not letting Clare go to Master’s alone.”

“When do you plan to go?” she asked. Jem still didn’t look up.

“The day after tomorrow,” said Clare. “We want to help you settle in. But Jem and I agree that we should check Master’s place out before you and the others go. We know nothing about the set-up there. You’ll stay and take care of the others until we come back for you. It won’t be long, Ramah, and this looks like a good place; you’ll all thrive here.”

“The others will be all right without me,” said Ramah. “Bird Boy would die for them.” And she put her pack next to theirs, along with her bow.

“We don’t know that Master is safe,” said Jem. “The fewer who go, the better.”

“We thought that two would be best,” said Clare. “And we’re the ones who most need the cure.”

“I see,” said Ramah. She was adding flat bread to her pack.

“You’re not invited,” Jem said quietly.

“You’ll need me,” said Ramah. “More than they’ll need me here. I know it.”

“I’m sorry, Ramah,” said Jem. “We’re the oldest. It’s our risk to take.”

Ramah sat back on her heels. “It’s not the way it’s supposed to happen,” she said unhappily. “I’m supposed to go with you. I’ve dreamt it. It’s not like the old days, when dreams didn’t mean anything. You’re going to need me before the end.”

It was, perhaps, the longest speech Clare had heard from Ramah.