I stare at the doll as if doing so will extract more information out of her, but no lights go on. Prince must have noticed my confused state because he gives my hand a few reassuring licks. He doesn’t seem to mind whether he’s with Elise, Luke, or me. He’s sitting next to me, his face almost touching my knee. I’m scratching his neck and admiring Luke’s effort in the yard. We’ve been here before, Sky said?
I wish I remembered. Maybe that’s how Elise feels, always a step behind, trying to catch up? It’s like an itch you want to scratch, but you can’t reach it. I thought we knew everything, but we don’t. Far from it.
I listen to the whispers in my head that are more like the sound of a waterfall cascading over a cliff than distinguishable sentences. I give up and let my gaze wander over the flowerbeds and bushes recovering from Luke’s brutal attack. Purple, blue, yellow, and white wildflowers pepper the outer edges of the garden. He left the flowers for us to pluck, I’m sure. What would we do without him? He’s the man in the house, the father the kids never had, although he’s no more than two or three years older than I am. He always reminds me of Luke Skywalker with his blonde, longish hair and eyes light blue like the summer sky. I couldn’t wish for a better friend.
I should tell him occasionally and give him recognition for all the work he does.
Miss Marple said, “If you appreciate each other and are thankful for the help you receive, say so. Each part of you came to help when it was needed most. That deserves respect and recognition.”
She was often right, but I don’t buy everyone came to help. I remember well when there were parts outside the Tribe that made life difficult like hell. They didn’t come to help; they were set on destroying us, trying to finish what Elise’s parents started. I haven’t seen or heard of them for years.
We’ve been here before? Of course, it makes sense. It’s the house of Elizabeth’s aunt. There is something more important about it. Some crucial information or link I can’t grasp. It fades the way remnants of a dream disappear when I wake up.
I try hard to remember, but it slips quickly through my fingers. I don’t know where to start. It’s like going down a never-ending rabbit hole. It’s no use. I lean back on a rusty, old chair and let the sun warm my face. This is a lovely space. One day, this garden will be our pride, I’m sure. This could become my favorite place.
“Enough brooding, Prince. Let’s check out the tree.”
The dog lifts his head and his ears are twitching front to back. First, I think he’s responding to my words, but then I hear a rumbling coming from behind the trees. Someone’s coming. Prince raises his hackles and a low, gurgling growl rolls in his throat. The Tribe gets agitated, too. I don’t have to wait long before an old pickup truck clears the trees and rocks back and forth on the washed-out dirt road toward our house.
It’s Scottie. He didn’t impress Elise yesterday, but that doesn’t mean much. She doesn’t like men. I like him even though he looks pretty ancient, at least forty if I had to guess. He must be a poor learner or something. Elise gave him a cold shoulder yesterday. You’ve got to hand it to him; he’s either persistent or already suspicious of us. I will find out any moment because he stops the truck and walks up to me. I’m not sure, though, what to make of the two animal cadavers he has slung over his shoulder.
Neither does Prince. He barks so loud; they must hear it all the way in Port Somers. I rise from the chair and lean my hands on the wrought iron coffee table. That was a mistake. I almost lose my balance. One has to take your hat off for good old auntie Mandy. She left a lot of cool stuff behind, but this wonky table is useless and has scrap metal written all over it.
“Good morning, congrats on your guard dog.”
Scottie tips his hat with one finger and dangles two dead rabbits in front of my nose. Oh… he shouldn’t do that. I can feel the Tribe getting up in arms about it.
Those cute bunnies. He killed them.
“I thought I’d come and see how you did after your first night in the wilderness and bring you a welcome to the neighborhood present. Hunting was good this morning. Do you know how to skin a rabbit?”
He must think I’m a mute moron. I don’t want to shake the hand he handled the dead animals with. I barely control my gag response. How could he? I listen inside but nobody volunteers to come out for meeting our new neighbor. The one time when you’d think being a multiple is an advantage, everyone inside says thanks but no thanks.
“Scottie, what a surprise. Meet Prince.”
Oops. Did I call him Scottie out loud? He doesn’t react to me using a nickname. He drops his hand down and lets Prince take a good, long sniff. At least he knows how to treat a dog.
I turn aside to avoid the smell of blood, but it’s too late. If I were a vampire—I’m not, but it would be the coolest thing to be strong and have all these superhero skills—I would grow fangs now and my eyes would turn red. None of that happens though. I have to deal with Scottie, the animal killer, with my weak, human self.
“We are vegetarian. We eat nothing that had a pulse once and recoiled when hurt. But it’s the thought that counts, so thanks for the neighborly gesture.” I’m not the only one who feels dreadful. We all do. It’s bad manners to reject a
