The Fall of Never(43)

“Did you ever find it, do you think?”

“I can’t remember that, either. Maybe.”

“Maybe,” he agreed. “It’s nice to think so, isn’t it?”

“She’s going to come out of it, Dad. And they’ll catch the person who did this.”

“Yes,” her father said, though without much conviction. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he turned and pushed past her, making his way toward the house. She watched him go and, for the briefest moment, she saw him hesitate just as he made the turn as if he’d suddenly remembered something he wanted to say…but then he continued on his way, not stopping to look back.

Still cold, she breathed warmth into her hands and passed along the fence of the dog pen. Several of the large, black dogs poked their heads up again, watched her pass.

“Don’t you boys get cold out here? Doesn’t seem like those little houses keep you very warm.”

There was something small and dead half-buried in the ground on the other side of the pen, Kelly saw. A squirrel, it looked like. Dumb thing must have found its way into the pen, most likely attracted by the smell of the dog food, and before it knew what hit it, Rotley’s Dobermans had undoubtedly pounced.

An image broke through her mental veil: a stairway banister laden with the skulls of tiny forest creatures—squirrels, chipmunks, rabbits, mice. A dark, narrow stairwell leading neither up nor down, just there, like a bridge in need of crossing but attached to no land. Darkness. Canted, distorted walls. A floor made of…of…

A floor sometimes made of wood, sometimes made of leaves and dirt and earth…and sometimes littered with broken plastic forks, she thought suddenly, not fully understanding where such a memory—and was it even a memory?—had come from.

Plastic forks.

There’d been a broken plastic fork on the floor of Becky’s bedroom. And the connection between the two didn’t sit well with her, suddenly putting her on edge and making her nervous all over again. A broken plastic fork—it meant nothing to her, yet it suddenly scared the hell out of her.

A chill passed through her, and it wasn’t due to the cold.

She looked down the slope of the great valley, looked down into the black forest of trees. She’d spent most of her childhood hidden behind the veil of those firs, grew up there like a wood elf. Sailing boats in streams and watching birds and building forts and…

And broken plastic forks, her mind returned to her.

She backed away from the side of the hill, turned away from the trees and the sloping green valley, now powdered with frost.

Get back inside before you lose your mind out here, that same head-voice spoke up. And when Becky’s doctor gets here, it might not be a bad idea to suggest he give you a full examination, too. Maybe see a psychiatrist.

No, she didn’t need a psychiatrist. She just needed to get inside.



A young man with flowers stood on the front porch. As Kelly turned the corner of the house, the young man saw her the same moment she saw him and there was a flicker of recognition in her eyes, yet there and then gone just as quick as the report of a pistol.

The young man recognized her too. He quickly dismounted from the porch and moved almost hesitantly toward her, his eyes a mix of emotion, his features somehow growing more and more familiar with each step he took toward her.

From nowhere, Kelly pictured a set of bloody knees.

“Is…my God, Kelly?” the young man said, and she suddenly knew him in the instant that followed.

“Gabriel?”

It was him, now all grown up and a man. A handsome man. His eyes were bright and thick with lashes, his hair impossibly curly and cropped short. He was perhaps a bit thin, but he carried himself with great purpose.

Gabriel…

He paused just two feet in front of her. His lips decided on a smile, though it was an awkward and confused one. He said, “I don’t believe it,” and reached out to hug her with clumsy forcefulness, the handful of flowers pressed against her back. She returned his hug then allowed him to pull away. With some amusement, she watched his eyes skirt up and down her body, that awkward smile still firm on his face. “Guess you went and grew up, huh? I can’t believe it. You look good, Kelly.”

“You too,” she said. Gabriel Farmer, she thought.

“I didn’t know you were coming home. When did you get in?”

“Last night.”

“I just…” He was at a loss for words. Looking down, he pulled the bundle of flowers apart and handed half the arrangement to Kelly. “Here. I don’t think Becky would object.”

“You came to see her?”

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I don’t know what else to say. Is she awake yet?”

“Not yet, no.”

“Soon, though,” he said.

“Yes. I think so. She’s sleeping, but she looks strong, you know? Healthy.”

“That’s good.”

“You still come around the house?” she asked him. In her own head she sounded giddy and beseeching, like a child.

“I do some work for your father on occasion. Mostly painting and yard work here and there.” He shrugged. “I’m still in town, might as well pick up what work I can.”

“The way you used to talk, I would have guessed you’d be far from Spires by now.” And thought, Damn it, am I trying to insult him?