“I’m old,” Grandma Gwenny said. “I can have it both ways. I’m going to come up to this camp as long as I can walk.”
The first two weeks of July were reserved for Tim’s family and his brothers and sisters. Everyone was there to watch the ring of fireworks displays from all the towns around Ridgeline, from Deptford to Kitticoe all the way out to Warfield, nearly twenty miles away.
It was, Campbell once said happily, like having a ringside seat for summer.
Later in the year, often after Christmas, they visited Campbell’s father in Virginia for a week. He visited them, in turn, at Easter time.
But evidently, it was always and only the camp that made their parents get all peppy. Mally wasn’t quite sure how to feel about the baby. Of course, he would be adorable. He would be so adorable that leaving him to go to college when he was only three would probably break her heart. On the other hand, it would probably keep Campbell and Tim from going mental with loneliness once all of them were gone.
But what if he had terrible birth defects because Campbell was so old? Mallory knew that tests revealed most of those things, but tests weren’t infallible! Campbell could practically be a grandmother!
Tim looked up. “Why are you pouting?” he asked. “We’re both very happy about the baby. Now, if that emergency is under control . . .”
“I don’t want to change any diapers,” Adam said firmly.
“Girls think it’s sexy,” Merry told him.
“Hence my decision,” Adam replied.
“What decision?” Campbell asked. All of them nearly levitated out of their chairs. And no one said a word. Behind them, they could still hear the man screaming about a “critter.”
“What’s he talking about?” Tim asked.
“What are you talking about?” his wife asked in return, pushing the sleeves up on her sweater, as if prepared to do combat. “As if I didn’t know plain as the nose on my face, Tim Brynn.”
“Medical school,” Adam said virtuously. “I think it’s very brave of you to try to learn things at your age, Mom.”
“Campbell, really, what is he on about?” Tim asked.
“He says he was attacked by a mountain lion. He smells like he fell into a distillery. I suppose it’s possible he could have encountered a bear way up there. He was deer hunting. Said he got a shot off that sliced its leg but it ran away. You don’t think an old guy from Mount Kisco is smoking dope, do you?”
“No, but it’s weird,” Tim pointed out, grateful that Campbell wasn’t pushing his discussion with the kids. “Is the boy okay?”
“He is,” Campbell said. “But he swears he heard it growl too. I think he turned to run and hit his head or something. He’s got a bump but he’ll be fine. Why people take twelve-year-olds hunting is beyond my comprehension.” She shrugged into her coat and went on, “It is weird enough that they’re going to bring an animal control officer all the way from Warfield tomorrow morning. If there’s any kind of predator up there, behind Rose Reservoir, she’ll track it with dogs. It’d probably have to have been some kind of coyote. But it’s strange that the Polk kid said the same thing.”
Madly, Mally was texting Eden into her phone. CM. 2BAD2BT. When no familiar text floated on down with a waterfall of electronic tones, she punched in Eden’s number.
“It’s Eden! Leave a message and hope for the best!” said the familiar voice, with its nearly imperceptible lilt.
“No, Eden! No! Damn!” Mally whispered. As if Eden could answer her anyhow . . . from up on Rose Ridge.
Mallory shoved her phone back into her pocket. She was going to have to find a way, to get out past the Rose Ridge reservoir herself, which was about as far from her house as she’d ever run, more than ten miles. Her parents warned her not to go up there with anyone, because of the reservoir’s reputation. Boy Scouts dutifully picked up beer cans there every spring, but there would always be a whole new crop by fall. Down in the water, the rear end of at least one old car stuck up like something out of a horror comic.
How would she find someone who could help? And if she found Eden, who would she be?
By now, Cooper was home, but there was no way she was going to be able to get all the way out to the Cardinal tree farm tonight. She didn’t know if he even had a cell phone. Eden’s uncles were there working with her father for the Christmas tree season, with several of her boy cousins. She’d told Mallory that this year Grandmere had made dozens of pairs of tiny baby moccasins ordered by people all over New England. In the bottom of each tiny gathered bit of foot-shaped hide, Annaisa poked a hole. Lots of people put them on their Christmas trees for babies born that year, Eden explained. The moccasins weren’t for wearing. By poking the tiny hole, her grandmother said, she gave the parents a powerful symbol, the wish that the baby would live long enough to wear out a thousand pairs of moccasins. It all sounded so ordinary and Eden-like and normal.
Mallory couldn’t wait to see Cooper. She’d even been practicing putting her hair up in different ways—something she was as likely to do as to dye it purple. When she thought of him, her stomach still whirled. She’d lost five pounds since Halloween, something her mother noticed and criticized. Now, all she felt when she thought about Cooper was anxiety.
Of course, she could be completely wrong.
Maybe the older guy did run into a bear. It happened out there every couple of years to deer hunters. Maybe he cut himself on a branch and was too drunk to confess.
For why would Eden do such a thing?
Why?
Mallory didn’t know why. All she knew was that she had to know.
AT THE VERGE
P
lease, Drewsky, please, please,” Mallory begged.
“No, Brynn, no, no,” Drew Vaughn answered.
“Why?” Mallory exploded into the phone. “I would for you.”
“You always say that. And yet, you have never driven me anywhere or done anything remotely weird or life-risking for me because, hey, you can’t! You’re not even fourteen.”
“But I would if I could and you know it! An hour at most, Drew.”
“Not an hour at most because it’ll take an hour just to get there and back on a Friday night, and then you have to do whatever nuts thing you have to do.”
“Okay, an hour and a half at most. You’ll be home by eight-thirty. The glitter people never go out before ten.”
“Well, my parents glitter me home at one at the latest, not that you should tell anyone that. Or else the Green Beast turns back into a pumpkin. I’m dating a senior. Give me a break.”
“Drew, I wouldn’t ask you if I could ask anyone else,” Mallory wheedled.
“That’s nice of you. Good old Drew, the last choice.”
“I didn’t mean it that way and you know it. You’re the only one I can ask, for obvious reasons.”
“Well, it’s still no, and for obvious reasons. First of all, it’s dark and I don’t have this big desire to go driving up the crummy road by Rose Ridge reservoir when the dopers have probably been there since three-thirty this afternoon. Second, I have a date. And third, I have a date.”
“Okay, fine,” Mallory said, her voice flat.
“What do you mean, okay fine?”
“Okay fine. Don’t take me. And don’t ever, ever, ever ask me for another favor again as long as we live. Don’t ask me to do your trig on the way to school. Ever. Don’t ask if you can use my iPod. Don’t ask me to run with you so you can time yourself.”
“Brynn, what the hell?” Drew was honestly bewildered. “What could you want in the dark out there that can’t wait until morning?”
“I said forget it.”
“Good grief! I’ll pick you up in fifteen minutes,” Drew said. “If it’s something nuts, I swear I’ll never give you a ride to school again. You can ride the bus like the teeny little freshman nothing that you are.”
“Oh, Drew, thank you! Thanks so much! I totally love you for this!”
But Drew had already hung up the phone. Mally ran to pull on her windbreaker over her Spandex running pants and tied a scarf around her neck. She rummaged around until she found Adam’s stocking cap and the miner’s headlamp he’d taken to his sixth-grade sleepover camp.
She had no idea how far up she’d have to walk. She and Drew had driven up to the top of the hill above the reservoir with the intention of going swimming one day just after he got his driver’s license, but there was a loud party going on that repelled them right away. Girls were swimming in their underpants and bras. Even if Drew would have liked looking, he didn’t want Mallory there and said so. But it was probably no more than a mile, and maybe less. If there was anything to see, she knew she’d see it . . . or hear it. If there were hunters, they would be back down at the Camelot or the Holiday Inn. An hour and a half, she had promised Drew—while promising her parents that she had to help Drew pick out flowers for Pam’s birthday (Mallory had no idea when Pam’s birthday actually was). What she was worried about was encountering some high-school stoners sitting in the scrubby trees up there and wondering if she would dare to explain to them why they should go home or if they’d fall into the reservoir laughing.
Even so, there was no alternative but to try.
“I know what you’re up to,” Meredith said, as she put the finishing touches on her outfit, her melon skirt from last year’s birthday party paired with blue leggings and a new blue sweater. She was going to Neely’s and was cheerful for the first time in ages. Mally spun around to face her sister, stark panic on her face. “It’s about that guy. Cooper. Eden’s brother. You’re sneaking out to meet him.”
Arranging her panicky glare into an eager girl-crush face, Mallory made Merry promise. “Don’t tell.” Grinning, Merry took time from her dressing ritual, which Mallory had clocked at ninety minutes, to use two fingers to cross her heart. And then Mallory was out the door.
Assuming from her headlamp and clothing that she was going running after picking flowers, Campbell shouted for Mally to be quick about it, but Mally called back that she might drop in and see Eden, who might be waitressing at the Big Dipper. Campbell was drowsy. Tim and Adam were playing chess.
And so Mallory slipped out under the cover of everyone else’s preoccupation.
THE CAT
M
allory’s resolve shuddered.
It was smudge-smoke dark on the road that led up and around Rose Ridge reservoir. Six or seven junky cars—junkier even than Drew’s—were parked in the scrubby trees at the side of the road. She could hear hoots and shouts down by the water, even though it was cold enough outside to see her breath.
Although he promised to stay in the car, Drew made Mallory agree to use a signal—three short flashes of the light and one long one—if she got in trouble and needed him, which he warned her she had better not. Drew was dressed for his date, wearing a pair of cuffed chinos and a pale green sweater. When Mallory told him he looked nice, Drew ignored her.
She used her headlight to keep to the path, such as it was, as she scuffled her way uphill. Every few moments, she would call out in a soft voice, “Eden! It’s Mallory!” But nothing stirred. The partiers’ distant noise faded. The wind rattled the dry branches and something small and quick slithered across the trail behind her. She heard the occasional loud crash from below and saw flames leap as someone threw something on the bonfire.
Mallory walked faster, her hands deep in her pockets.
She made her way up to the top of the ridge over the reservoir and peeked down at the party. Mostly guys with a few girls wearing shorts or sweats, they were yelling and singing and throwing green beer bottles into the now-raging fire. Every time one crashed, Mally jumped.
She smelled the lion behind her before she saw her.
It was a strong, wild, hot scent like nothing Mallory had ever experienced, cleaner than a zoo smell, not unpleasant but tangy and strong. She heard the low sound that ended in the “wow” of a snarl.
Slowly, she turned, steeling her body to remain still. Was this really Eden? If it was, could Eden’s mind be inside the creature?
Determined not to flinch, Mallory couldn’t help but fall back a step when she actually saw the lion. It was not really white but a buff color, like brushed suede boots or sheepskin. It would have been magnificent had Mally not been so terrified. No more than ten feet away, it stood among the low birches, its unblinking golden eyes with their straight-line black pupils fixed on her, the muscles of its chest and forelegs like tiny mountain ranges. Its head was twice the size of Eden’s, its grin between thin black lips one of the most frightening things Mallory had ever seen. It . . . no, she . . . tossed her head and snarled again. An electrical thrill pulsed along Mally’s arms.
Mally took a deep breath.
“Eden?” she said.
The cat delicately placed one paw before the other and stepped toward Mallory. Mallory’s bladder tightened. She nearly turned to run; instead, she squeezed her eyes closed and prayed to St. Bridget. She smelled and felt, rather than saw, the big cat’s approach, shivered as its casual heft brushed her leg—the cat’s shoulder higher than Mallory’s hip.
Mallory breathed then.
It could have killed her.
So it was Eden.
“You hurt that man. Eden, why? Is that the kind of bad luck Cooper meant? How can that be good? Hide, Edie. Please. An animal control officer with a big rifle is coming tomorrow from Warfield. Do you hear me? Do you understand me?” Mallory looked deep into the golden eyes and heard Eden tell her, the way Meredith did,
I do
.
Then she heard the voice.
“You don’t belong around here, little dude.” The voice was twangy with menace. Mally turned, her hood slipping back. There were two of them—one guy small and scrawny with a caterpillar ’stache and the other bulky with eyes as blank as a bear’s. “Oh, the dude’s a lady. Ry, look here. A mini-lady has come to visit us. Hi, baby.”
Eden was . . . where? Nowhere to be seen.