Where the Forest Meets the Stars(50)

“She knows she’s worn out the welcome mat.”
“Do you think she’s gone?”
“No. It’s more of her games.”
“Let’s not forget she’s a scared little kid.”
“Yeah.” He walked away in a new direction.
“Where are we going?”
“The tree house.”
Jo followed him about a hundred yards down a trail until his flashlight hit a decayed sign painted with the faded, childishly printed words GABE’S HOMESTEAD  . Below it, on the same stake, was a broken-off board that read NO TRESSP  . He shined his flashlight up a huge oak tree onto an incredible tree house. It was high, three times Gabe’s height, and supported by four tall log beams. An enchanting spiral staircase with sinuous branch banisters led to its entrance.
“This is the best tree house I ever saw,” she said.
“I loved this place. My dad and I built it when I was seven. We constructed it on timbers so we wouldn’t hurt the tree.” He walked to the staircase that encircled the trunk and thunked his foot on the first stair. “Still in good shape, too.”
“Ursa knew about it?”
“She spent hours up here. This is where she stayed out of my mother’s sight when I sold eggs.”
“I’m surprised she didn’t want to sell eggs with you.”
“She did.”
“Why didn’t you let her?”
He faced her. “Funny you don’t think of these things.”
“What?”
“I was afraid to have her out there on the road. What if whoever she ran from saw her out there? I’d have to let him take her, and I’d have no idea if I was doing the right thing.”
“That makes sense.”
“You need a little more of that.”
The jab hurt, but she was in no mood to retaliate. “What sense can there be when I’m under an alien’s control?”
The scowl he’d worn since he came out of the cabin relaxed into a slight smile.
“You may not believe this,” she said, “but before star-girl showed up, I used to be a sensible person, almost to the point of annoyance.”
“I know the feeling,” he said. “I’ve been fighting a riptide of quarks since I set eyes on her.” He held his hand out. “You go up first. I want to be behind you in case you trip.”
She didn’t need his help, but she accepted his warm hand and caution as reconciliation. But when he released her fingers, he touched her again, on the waist this time, lightly guiding her up the stairs. Was he being a gentleman, or did he crave physical contact with her the way she did from him? Based on the data she’d so far collected, she supposed the former was more probable.
The handrail was sturdy, and good thing, because the treads spiraled dangerously high. Jo arrived at the top, shining her light into a room divided by two large boughs of the oak. A small rope hammock was strung between a wall and one of the trunks. A child-size chair and desk made of what looked like wood pallets sat on the other side of the space. The room opened to two views of the forest, one balcony facing the incoming trail and the other looking down a beautiful wooded ravine. Jo shined her light into the gorge, imagining little Gabe as king of all he surveyed.
“Weird,” Gabe said behind her.
She turned around. His flashlight illuminated the small desk. On its surface were two pencils with erasers, an illustrated book of fairy tales, and several pieces of white printer paper weighed down with rocks. The rocks threw sparks of light from crystals embedded in them, the kind Ursa liked to collect.
Jo looked at Ursa’s pencil drawings with Gabe: a cartoonish sketch of a frog, a very realistic rendering of a newborn kitten, and the drawing he had pulled out from beneath them. It was a picture of a rectangular grave colored dark with pencil. A white cross with no lettering stood over the burial dirt. Next to the grave, Ursa had written I love you on one side and I am sorry on the other.
“There’s a person in that grave,” Jo said.
“I know.” He picked up the paper, and they examined the grave. Ursa had drawn a prone woman with closed eyes and shoulder-length hair before she colored the dark dirt over her. “Jesus,” Gabe said. “Are you thinking what I am?”
“Someone she cared about died, and that’s why she’s on her own.”
He nodded.
Jo took the drawing out of his hand. “I wonder why she wrote I am sorry .”
“I know. It’s creepy,” he said.
“Please don’t tell me you think that little girl killed someone.”
“Who knows what happened? That’s why you should have taken her to the police right away.”
Jo returned the drawing to the table. “You know, I’m tired of your sudden virtue. I think you’ve forgotten you were the one who decided we should keep her until we found out more about her.”
“You’re doing it again,” he said.
“What am I doing?”
“You attack me to avoid the problem with Ursa.”
“Who avoids the problem of Ursa more than you? You dumped us like we were stray cats you didn’t want to deal with anymore—only I know you’d have treated cats better.”
He came close, right up in her face. “That was a shitty thing to say!”
“It was a shitty thing to do.”
“I had to do something. We’re already in big trouble. Don’t you get that, Jo? We could be arrested for kidnapping and put in jail.”
She kept her eyes on his. “That’s not why you dumped us.”