The Last Harvest(28)

Unable to hold it back any longer, she lets out a gasping breath as she pulls me in for a hug. I haven’t hugged her in so long. I don’t think she’s hugged anyone since Dad died. It hurts. Her sharp shoulders cut into me. I can’t believe how thin she’s gotten.

“I’m scared,” she whispers in my ear.

“Why are you scared?”

“Do you hear them?” She grips onto my shirt.

“Hear what?” I pry myself away.

She just stares at the wall … at the flies.

“You should get some sleep.” I help her to her feet and lead her up the stairs to her room. “We’ve got a big day ahead of us.”

Before I can even pull the quilt over her, she’s out cold.

I thought she was getting better, but since the anniversary she seems to have lost her footing again. Maybe she can sense what’s happening here … that something evil’s coming.

“Soon, this will all be over,” I say as I gently close her door.

Taking the envelope from my back pocket, I slip it under Jess’s door and then peek in on Noodle. It’s brighter in her room because she leaves the drapes wide open, like she doesn’t want to miss anything. She looks like an angel when she sleeps, with those long dark eyelashes, pink cheeks. She smiles in her sleep. I don’t know anybody else who does that. As I pull up the covers, I notice the mangy baby doll she’s clutching. It’s not some family heirloom. A lady gave it to her at Dad’s funeral. When I asked her why the sudden interest, she said she was practicing. All the more reason for Noodle to go to All Saints. She’s capable of so much more than that.

I know Noodle doesn’t like people messing with her hair, but I don’t know how she can sleep with those lopsided pigtails. As I go to take out the elastics, I notice the decrepit doll’s eyes are open, staring right at me, pure black orbs, glistening in the dark.

I stumble back a few feet, my heart pounding against my ribs. Its eyes were closed a second ago. I’m sure of it. And then I remembered Miss Granger’s explanation about the prophet stuff. Maybe it’s all in my head, my fear manifesting in some weird way. I clench my eyes shut for a second and take a deep breath.

Something hits the floor.

There’s a dragging sound.

I feel a dark presence all around me.

I open my eyes to find Noodle has turned over on her stomach, the doll at my feet. I nudge it over with my foot to find its eyes closed. I let out a burst of nervous air. It must’ve fallen off her bed when she rolled over. I feel a little bad for doing it, but I kick it under the bed. I know she loves that baby doll, but I’m hoping it’s an out-of-sight, out-of-mind thing.

I close Noodle’s door and start for my bedroom, but I can’t make myself go in. I might be delirious from lack of sleep, but I know the moment my head hits that pillow, I’ll dream. And I can’t face another nightmare. Not tonight.

Being mindful of the creaks, I ease down the stairs and slip on my boots and jacket.

I walk across the wheat to the harvester, to the only peace I can find.





17

BY 9:00 A.M., I’ve cleared out another seven acres, cleaned myself up, and told Noodle we’re going on an adventure. Just the two of us.

“Wear something nice,” I tell her as I head outside and wait for her in my truck. I can’t bear to sit in the kitchen, watching Mom desperately try to rally with that haunted look in her eyes. She’s like one of those willow seeds clinging to my windshield wipers, teetering on the edge, waiting for one stiff breeze to blow her into oblivion. I watch the seed drift away toward the Neely ranch. Maybe seeing her old friends tonight at the Preservation Society, her old life, will do her some good.

Noodle comes skipping out of the house wearing her purple and pink fairy costume—wings and everything. I pull my cap down low and try to hide my grin. I know I should probably tell her to go in and change, but this is the nicest outfit Noodle can think of for herself. Why spoil it?

“You look perfect,” I say, as I hop out and let her in the truck.

“Thanks.” She slides over to the passenger seat, carefully placing her wand next to her.

As we drive down Route 17, across the county line, Noodle finally asks where we’re headed. I get the feeling she doesn’t even care as long as we’re together. That’s how it’s always been between us.

“I’m taking you to Murpheyville.”

“To the auto parts store?” She pulls the map out of the glove box. She doesn’t even seem slightly disappointed at the prospect.

“Nope. I’m taking you to All Saints.”

“The place with the big steeple? Wow. What for?”

“Well…,” I say as I dig the letter out of my pocket and hand it to her. “You, Miss Natalie Anne Tate, have been accepted as a student.”

She smooths the paper on her lap, fiddling with the edges. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, nothing like that. It’s a school for smart kids. Like you.”

She swallows hard. “You’re not leaving me there, are you?”

“Of course not.” I reach over and give her arm a squeeze. “I’ll take you every day and pick you up.”

She studies the map. I can tell by the way her eyes light up that she’s doing math in her head. “But that’s forty-six miles each way.”