The Forgotten Door Read Free

headlights were on, but the beams were sweeping beyond him around the curve.
    He managed to struggle upright for a moment, then sank weakly to his knees. He had dropped his staff, and found that he could hardly stand without it.
    The truck braked suddenly, and stopped. A man leaned out and said in quick concern, “Hey there, young fellow! What seems to be wrong?”
    Little Jon opened his mouth soundlessly, and raised one hand. He heard a woman’s voice say, “For heaven’s sake, children, let me out — I think the boy’s hurt!”
    Both doors of the truck flew open. The man stepped from the driver’s side, and a boy and a girl tumbled from the other, followed by the woman. Little Jon saw that the girl was about his own size. The boy was much larger, but he seemed no older than himself. Both wore jackets and blue jeans, like the woman.
    Though the man was nearer, he moved with a slight limp, and the woman reached him first. “My goodness, honey,” she said, stooping and raising him gently, “your face and hands are all scraped. Did you have a fall?”
    He nodded, and the man asked, “Are you hurt badly?”
    Little Jon shook his head. His eyes swung quickly from one to the other. The woman wore a green scarf around her bright hair. There were freckles across her lean cheeks, and small laughter creases at the corners of her eyes and mouth. The man had a thick shock of dark hair graying at the temples; his face was ruddy, but deeply lined.
    The man said, “Can you tell us where you live, sonny?”
    Little Jon shook his head again. There was sudden silence. The woman bit her lip, then asked quietly, “Can you understand what we are saying?”
    Again he nodded, and she said, “Thomas, I believe he’s had a bad shock that keeps him from speaking. I — I hate to take him to the hospital. They — they’re so impersonal. I think all he needs is a hot meal and some rest.”
    â€œWe’re taking him home with us,” the man said definitely. “If he’s been lost in the mountains all day, he’s had it.” He jerked his head at the boy and girl. “Sally, you and Brooks ride in the back of the truck. Mary —”
    â€œI’ll carry him,” she said. “He hardly weighs what Sally does.”
    â€œMommy,” said Sally, speaking for the first time. “Is — is he an Indian?”
    â€œI doubt it, and it wouldn’t make any difference if he were a horned Andalusian with scales. All aboard!”
    She swung Little Jon into the truck and settled him on the seat beside her. The two children scrambled into the back, and the man slid behind the wheel.
    While the truck wound along the road, Little Jon sat with his hands clenched, trying to suppress the sudden tears of thankfulness that ran down his cheeks. It was so wonderful to find people who were, well, like people should be. If only he could talk to them and explain …
    He tried to fit their spoken words to the thoughts he had felt in them. Their names he knew: Thomas, Mary, Sally, Brooks. His quick ears had already picked out scores of words for his eager memory to hold, but fitting them to the right thoughts would take time. He wished they would speak more to one another, but they said little during the short drive.
    Even so, he was aware of questions in all of them. The man: Odd — never saw a boy like him. Can’t be from around here . The woman: There’s something very strange about him. It isn’t just his long hair. His features are so — so sensitive. And his jacket — where in the world can you find material like that?
    The truck slowed presently, and the headlights swept a small brown building with a sign that read B EAN’S R OCK S HOP , S MOKY M OUNTAIN G EMS . The truck turned into a lane beside it, and climbed in second gear to a house nearly hidden by evergreens. There was a barn some distance behind the