The Door in the Forest Read Free

took her.”
    Everyone was quiet. The girl looked down.
    “We had to get out quick, Emily and me.”
    “Emily. Now I remember,” said Mrs. Crowley.
    “She’s a strange one.”
    “Strange how?”
    He shrugged. “Don’t talk. Ornery. I can’t take care of her. Can’t hardly take care of myself.”
    “I can believe that.” Mrs. Crowley’s voice was flat. She’d seen the business with the water jar. “We’ll see she gets to Bridey.”
    Stecher nodded. “Better I don’t see the old bat. I didn’t leave on such a good note.”
    “I remember.” Mr. Crowley nodded.
    Daniel looked at Stecher, trying to figure him out. The man might tell the truth, but he had liar’s eyes and a mouth made for excuses.
    “Well,” the man said, “I’ll be pushing on, then.” He took off his hat, punched it from the inside, and stuck it back on his head. “Spare a little money for the road?”
    “Sorry,” said Crowley. “You can have an apple, though.”
    Stecher hesitated, blinking, then took the apple and rubbed it on his shirt. Without a word or a glance at the girl, he hoisted the suitcase, steadied himself, and started off.
    “Mad creature,” Mrs. Crowley said under her breath. She might have said more, but not with the girl there. “Come on, Emily,” she said. “Let’s go inside and get some real food in you.”
    Mr. Crowley rubbed his chin. “Somebody,” he said, “needs to run over and tell Bridey. Danny, will you do that?”
    “I guess.”
    “I’d go, but I need to get to the store.”
    “Quick as you can now, Danny,” said his mother, heading inside. “I can use your help.”
    Why did they always have to ask him? “Okay,” he said.
    She nodded. “Run along, then.”
    “I’m
going
.” So much for his free time. He watched glumly as Mr. Fish and the other neighbors stood around and kicked the dirt, paying him no attention. They quietly cursed the government. Then, for good measure, they cursed the refugees who’d brought their problems on themselves.
    “Now they’ll be expecting us to take care of them,” said Fish.
    Daniel thought that was unfair. The last time the Uncertainties had come, there’d been beggars, sure, but they’d always been polite and hadn’t stayed long. Could they help being hungry? Or having the wrong politics?
    He watched as the men drifted away, then he started down the road toward Grandma Byrdsong’s. The day’s heat was building. The leaves on the overhanging elms were dusty and motionless, holding their breath.
    That’s when he saw the shadow flit across the road. He looked up in time to see a great blue heron sail silently overhead.

Grandma Byrdsong was taking a bath. More exactly, she was watching the bubbles in her bath as, one by one, they silently burst, causing continents of suds to re-form in new patterns. Since she was a considerable person, and not the most nimble, she’d raised great quantities of suds when she’d first walrussed into the tub. Once settled, she remained submerged to her thick neck, watching.
    Some people tell fortunes by reading tea leaves. That had never worked for Bridey Byrdsong. It was suds. Suds were the way to see what was what, and what was going to be what in this world.
    Besides, it made her arthritis feel better.
    Today was unusual. She wasn’t in the habit of taking baths in the middle of the day, or even every day, since the old house was not blessed with running water—just several large barrels, strategically placed in kitchen and bath, that had to be filled periodically from the pump. But today,as she’d gazed into the vanity mirror to darken her eyebrows and pink her cheeks, her reflection had spoken to her. She never knew when it would, or what it would say. This time it said, “Bridey Byrdsong, you put down that eyebrow pencil, heat up the water, and climb into the bath.”
    No whys or wherefores. Just “climb into the bath.” So that is what she did, and that was where Daniel found her when he