NINETEEN
She’s gone crazy. It’s the only explanation.” Ida stood, arms crossed, in the front yard of the Jarvises’ house. Fargus sat spinning on a wooden swing. “Or maybe they hypnotized her. Either way, you and I are outta here!”
Fargus didn’t appear to be listening. “Fargus! You and I are leaving, right?” Fargus stopped spinning and looked at Ida, indecision in his eyes. “I don’t believe it! You too? This was never part of our plan! We were supposed to refill our provisions in Gulm and then scram. You’re my best friend, Fargus, and I’m telling you, these people are creeps!”
Fargus stared hard at Ida. Then his gaze crossed the yard and landed on Josephine, wearing her new blue dress, picking yellow flowers in the neighboring field. Ida spit on the ground in disgust. “I know you don’t want to leave her, but we have to! This place is a trap. Josephine has gone nutty as peanut pie. It’s just you and me now. And I am not sticking around Gulm!” But Fargus shook his head firmly no.
Ida growled and stormed off down the road. She turned her head every thirty feet to see if he was following. Finally she stopped and kicked a fence, muttering, “Why. Won’t. Anyone. Listen. To. Me?!” She broke through a piece of wood in the fence and then she stomped around and kicked up dust for a while. Winded and sweating, she walked back to Fargus and said in as calm a voice as she could muster, “Fine. You can have one day. One! But then we’re leaving. With or without her.” Fargus smiled and went back to his spinning.
Josephine had had a wonderful day. She’d collected daisies all morning, swam in the stream in the afternoon, fished with Bruce, and then napped on a warm rock until dusk. Alma greeted her at home with more hot chocolate. Josephine had never known such good-natured people and she knew in her heart that Ida was wrong about them. She knew it as certainly as her name was Josephine. These people would never harm her.
That evening, as she returned to her pink and lavender room, she was once again touched by the sweet baby dolls in the corner, with their tiny lace dresses and red heart lips. She fell asleep dreaming of bubbling streams and thrashing fish, never stopping to wonder about the child who had once inhabited this precious room and where she was now.
Alma and Bruce stayed up late into the night, whispering about their guests and preparing more of the hot chocolate. Alma thought it was all going very well, but Bruce was suspicious of Ida. He noticed that she rarely smiled and seemed to always position herself near the door. He would be relieved if she made an escape. It made him uncomfortable to have children around.
Their own daughter, Sarah, had been with them for nine precious years—which was longer than most, but had felt as short as a hug good-bye. He and Alma never talked about her, but he could often see in Alma’s eyes that she was thinking about her. Some families in the town kept having children so that they might never know a silent dinner table, but he and Alma had been unable to have any more. Sometimes he fantasized about going after Sarah, but in his heart of hearts, he knew he was a coward. If he failed to find Sarah, he could lose Alma and his house, and he didn’t think he could bear to lose anyone else.
Alma finished stirring the chocolate and went to find a jar.
“What if she doesn’t want any more chocolate?” Bruce asked.
“Then we’ll drug her milk. Don’t worry—that girl’s happier than a cow in a pasture. She’s not going anywhere.”
Bruce nodded in sad agreement. He held the jar and covered his nose and mouth as Alma poured the warm liquid.
TWENTY
Josephine could barely keep her eyes open. If given the chance, she could have slept all day. It seemed the longer she spent here with the Jarvises, the more tired she became. But the journey to get here had been very exhausting. Perhaps she just needed to catch up on some rest. She felt her eyelids begin to flutter closed again when the door to the bedroom opened.
Alma entered carrying a tray that held porridge and a mug of hot chocolate. Josephine couldn’t believe it, but she was almost starting to get tired of chocolate.
Alma placed the tray on the nightstand next to Josephine’s bed and took a seat in the rocking chair in the corner. “Good morning, dear. How did you sleep?”
“Fine, thank you.” Josephine sat up, willing herself to feel more awake.
“I’m glad to hear it. Because I have news.”
Josephine began to eat her porridge, feeling too tired to care much about what Alma had to say.
Alma smoothed her apron. “Ida and Fargus are gone.”
Josephine stopped chewing. “Gone? What do you mean, ‘gone’?”
“They ran away in the middle of the night. When I went to wake them this morning, their beds were empty, and meat and bread had been taken from the kitchen.”
“But how . . . how could they leave me without saying good-bye?” Josephine felt the tears start to run, grief cutting through her drowsiness.
“I don’t know, dear. That girl, Ida—well, it’s obvious that no one’s bothered to teach her any manners at all.”
“But they were my friends.” Suddenly the porridge was thick and dry and sticking in her throat. She didn’t want to believe it. Her first real friends and they had abandoned her! Maybe they hadn’t really been her friends at all.
“Did they tell you they wanted to leave?” Alma prodded.
Josephine wiped at the tears on her face. “They left because Ida didn’t trust you. She said that you and Bruce were working for the Master.”
Alma tittered. “Me and Bruce? Oh, no. Never, dear. We would never harm children. Why don’t you drink your hot chocolate? It will make you feel better.”
“Ida wouldn’t listen to me.”
“You don’t worry your head about it. Those two will run out of food and they’ll come back in no time.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. I’ve already got Bruce out there searching the woods for them.”
Josephine began to breathe a little easier. “Thank you, Alma.” She was now less worried about Ida and Fargus, but no less hurt that they had chosen to leave her behind.
“You finish your breakfast and your chocolate and then come on downstairs. Today I’m going to teach you how to sew.”
Josephine nodded and did as she was told.
TWENTY-ONE
Fargus groggily awoke out of a hard sleep to find himself surrounded by a circle of strange, gawking children. He jumped up, shocked that he was no longer with Ida in the attic of the Jarvis house. He was now lying in a round room made of silver metal, which created reflections everywhere he looked. Instead of the dozen children standing around him, there appeared to be hundreds of them, and none of them was Ida! He saw his own confused face mirrored on the floor and walls and ceiling.
He instinctively reached for Stairway Ruth’s lashing stick, which had been tucked into the back of his pants. But it was gone.
The children continued to gape. He had never been the focus of so much attention and curiosity. He didn’t like it.
