IT WAS JUST BEGINNING TO RAIN WHEN EDYTHE TURNED ONTO MY street. Up until that moment, I'd had no doubt that she'd be staying with me while I spent a few hours in the real world.
And then I saw the black, weathered sedan parked in Charlie's driveway—and heard Edythe mutter something angry under her breath.
Leaning away from the rain under the shallow front porch, Jules Black stood behind her mother's wheelchair. Bonnie's face was impassive as rock while Edythe parked my truck against the curb. Jules stared down, looking mortified.
Edythe's low voice was furious. "This is crossing the line."
"She came to warn Charlie?" I guessed, more horrified than angry.
Edythe just nodded, answering Bonnie's stare with narrowed eyes.
At least Charlie wasn't home yet. Maybe the disaster could be averted.
"Let me deal with this," I suggested. Edythe's glare looked a little too… serious.
I was surprised that she agreed. "That's probably best. Be careful, though. The child has no idea."
"Child? You know, Jules is not that much younger than I am."
She looked at me then, her anger gone. She grinned. "Oh, I know."
I sighed.
"Get them inside so I can leave," she told me. "I'll be back around dusk."
"You can take the truck," I offered.
She rolled her eyes. "I could walk home faster than this truck moves."
I didn't want to leave her. "You don't have to go."
She touched my frown and smiled. "Actually, I do. After you get rid of them"—she glared in the Blacks' direction—"you still have to prepare Charlie to meet your new girlfriend."
She laughed at my face—I guess she could see exactly how excited I was for that.
It wasn't that I didn't want Charlie to know about Edythe. I knew he liked the Cullens, and how could he not like Edythe? He'd probably be insultingly impressed. But it just seemed like pushing my luck. Trying to drag this too-beautiful fantasy down into the sludge of boring, ordinary life didn't feel safe. How could the two coexist for long?
"I'll be back soon," she promised. Her eyes flickered over to the porch, and then she darted in swiftly to press her lips to the side of my neck. My heart bounced around inside my ribs while I, too, glanced at the porch. Bonnie's face was no longer impassive, and her hands clutched at the armrests of her chair.
"Soon," I said as I opened my door and stepped out into the rain. I could feel her eyes on my back as I jogged to the porch.
"Hey, Jules. Hi, Bonnie," I greeted them, as cheerfully as I could manage. "Charlie's gone for the day—I hope you haven't been waiting long."
"Not long," Bonnie said in a subdued tone. Her dark eyes were piercing. "I just wanted to bring this up." She gestured to a brown paper sack resting on her lap.
"Thanks," I said automatically, though I had no idea what it could be. "Why don't you come in for a minute and dry off?"
I pretended I didn't notice her intense scrutiny as I unlocked the door and waved them inside ahead of me. Jules gave me a half-smile as she walked by.
"Let me take that," I offered as I turned to shut the door. I exchanged one last look with Edythe—she was perfectly still as she waited, her eyes serious.
"You'll want to put that in the fridge," Bonnie instructed as she handed me the package. "It's a batch of Holly Clearwater's homemade fish fry. Charlie's favorite. The fridge keeps it drier."
"Thanks," I repeated with more emotion. "I was running out of ways to cook fish, and he's bound to bring more home tonight."
"Fishing again?" Bonnie asked. She was suddenly intent. "Down at the usual spot? Maybe I'll run by and see him."
"No," I lied quickly. "He was headed someplace new… but I have no idea where."
She stared at my face, her eyes narrowing. It was always so obvious when I tried to lie.
"Julie," she said, still eyeing me. "Why don't you go get that new picture of Aaron out of the car? I'll leave that for Charlie, too."
"Where is it?" Jules asked. Her voice sounded kind of down. I glanced at her, but she was staring at the floor, her black brows pulling together.
"I think I saw it in the trunk," Bonnie said. "You may have to dig for it."
Jules stalked back out into the rain.
Bonnie and I faced each other in silence. After a few seconds, the quiet started to feel awkward, so I turned and headed to the kitchen. I could hear her wet wheels squeak against the linoleum as she followed.
I fit the paper bag into a space on the top shelf of the fridge, and then turned slowly to meet the eyes I could feel boring into me.
"Charlie won't be back for a long time." My voice was almost rude.
She nodded in agreement, but said nothing.
"Thanks again for the fish fry," I hinted.
She continued nodding. I sighed and leaned back against the counter.
"Beau," she said, and then she hesitated.
I waited.
"Beau," she said again, "Charlie is one of my best friends."
"Yes."
She spoke each word carefully in her deep voice. "I noticed you've been spending time with one of the Cullens."
"Yes," I repeated.
Her eyes narrowed again. "Maybe it's none of my business, but I don't think that is such a good idea."
"You're right," I agreed. "It is none of your business."
She raised her thick eyebrows at my tone. "You probably don't know this, but the Cullen family has an unpleasant reputation on the reservation."
"Actually, I did know that," I said in a hard voice. She looked surprised. "But that reputation couldn't be deserved, could it? Because the Cullens never set foot on the reservation, do they?" I could see that my less-than-subtle reminder of the agreement that both bound and protected her tribe pulled her up short.
"That's true," she agreed, her eyes guarded. "You seem… well informed about the Cullens. More informed than I expected."
I stared her down. "Maybe even better informed than you are."
She pursed her thick lips as she considered that. "Maybe," she allowed, but her eyes were shrewd. "Is Charlie as well informed?"
She had found the weak spot in my armor.
"Charlie likes the Cullens a lot," I said. She obviously understood my evasion. Her expression was unhappy, but not surprised.
"It's not my business," she said. "But it may be Charlie's."
"Though it would be my business, again, whether or not I think that it's Charlie's business, right?"
I wondered if she even understood my confused question as I struggled not to say anything compromising. But she seemed to. She thought about it while the rain picked up against the roof, the only sound breaking the silence.
"Yes." She finally surrendered. "I guess that's your business, too."
I sighed with relief. "Thanks, Bonnie."
"Just think about what you're doing, Beau," she urged.
"Okay," I agreed quickly.
She frowned. "What I meant to say was, don't do what you're doing."
I looked into her eyes, filled only with concern for me, and there was nothing I could say.
The front door banged loudly.
"There's no picture anywhere in that car." Jules's complaining voice reached us before she did. She rounded the corner. The shoulders of her t-shirt were stained with the rain, her long hair dripping.
"Hmm," Bonnie grunted, suddenly detached, spinning her chair around to face her daughter. "I guess I left it at home."
Jules rolled her eyes dramatically. "Great."
"Well, Beau, tell Charlie"—Bonnie paused before continuing—"that we stopped by, I mean."
"I will," I muttered.
Jules was surprised. "Are we leaving already?"
"Charlie's gonna be out late," Bonnie explained as she rolled herself past Jules.
"Oh." Jules looked disappointed. "Well, I guess I'll see you later, then, Beau."
"Sure," I agreed.
"Take care," Bonnie warned me. I didn't answer.
Jules helped her mother out the door. I waved briefly, glancing swiftly toward my now-empty truck, and then shut the door before they were gone.
And then I had nothing to do but wait. After a few seconds staring at the empty kitchen, I sighed and started cleaning. At least it kept my hands busy. Not so much my thoughts. Now that I was away from Jessamine's mood fix, I was able to really stress out about what I'd agreed to. But how hard could it be? Edythe said I wouldn't have to play. I tried to convince myself it would be fine while scrubbing just a little too hard.
I was just finishing the bathroom when I finally heard Charlie's car in the drive. I stacked the cleaning supplies in alphabetical order under the sink while listening to him come in the front door. He started banging around under the stairs, stowing his tackle.
"Beau?" he called.
"Hey, Dad," I yelled back.
When I got downstairs, he was scrubbing his hands in the kitchen sink.
"Where's the fish?" I asked.
"Out in the deep freeze."
"I'll go grab a couple while they're fresh—Bonnie dropped off some of Holly Clearwater's fish fry this afternoon." I tried to sound enthusiastic.
"She did?" Charlie's eyes lit up. "That's my favorite!"
Charlie cleaned up while I got dinner ready. It wasn't long before we were both at the table, eating in silence. Charlie was obviously enjoying the food. I was wondering how on earth I was supposed to broach the subject of my new… girlfriend.
"What did you do with yourself today?" he asked, snapping me out of my thoughts.
"Well, this afternoon I just hung out around the house.…" Only the very recent part of this afternoon, actually. I tried to keep my voice upbeat, but my stomach was hollow. "And this morning I was over at the Cullens'."
Charlie dropped his fork.
"Dr. Cullen's place?" he asked in astonishment.
I pretended not to notice his reaction. "Yeah."
"What were you doing there?" He hadn't picked his fork back up.
"Well, I sort of have a date with Edythe Cullen tonight, and she wanted to introduce me to her parents."
He stared at me like I'd just announced that I'd spent the day knocking over liquor stores.
"What, Dad? Didn't you just tell me that you wanted me to socialize?"
He blinked a few times, then picked up his fork. "Yeah, I guess I did." He took another bite, chewed slowly, and swallowed. "And didn't you just tell me that none of the girls in town are your type?"
"I didn't say that, you did."
"Don't get touchy with me, kid, you know what I mean. Why didn't you say something? Was I being too nosey?"
"No, Dad, it's just… this is all kind of new, okay? I didn't want to jinx it."
"Huh." He reflected for a minute while he ate another bite. "So you went to meet her folks, eh?"
"Er, yeah. I mean, I already knew Dr. Cullen. But I got to meet her father."
"Earnest Cullen is great—quiet, but very… kind, I guess is the best word for it. There's something about him."
"Yeah, I noticed that."
"Meeting the parents, though. Isn't that kind of serious? Does that mean she's your girlfriend?"
"Yeah." This wasn't as hard as I'd thought it would be. I felt a strange sense of pride, being able to claim her this way. Kind of Neanderthal of me, but there it was. "Yeah, she's my girlfriend."
"Wow."
"You're telling me."
"Do I get a visit, too?"
I raised one eyebrow. "Will you be on your best behavior?"
He lifted both hands. "What, me? Have I ever embarrassed you before?"
"Have I ever brought a girl over before?"
He huffed, then changed the subject. "When are you picking her up?"
"Um, she's meeting me here. See—you do get a visit. She'll probably be here soon, actually."
"Where are you taking her?"
"Well, I guess the plan is that we're going to go… play baseball with her family."
Charlie stared at me for one second, and then he busted up. I rolled my eyes and waited for him to finish. Eventually, he pretended to wipe tears out of his eyes.
"I hope you're getting that out of your system now."
"Baseball, huh? You must really like this girl."
I thought about just shrugging that off, but I figured he'd see through me anyway. "Yeah," I said. "I really do."
I heard an unfamiliar engine roar up to the house, and I looked up in surprise.
"That her?"
"Maybe…"
After a few seconds, the doorbell rang, and Charlie jumped up. I ran around him and beat him to the door.
"Pushy much?" he muttered under his breath.
I hadn't realized how hard it was pouring outside. Edythe stood in the halo of the porch light, looking like a model in an ad for raincoats.
I heard Charlie's breath catch in surprise. I wondered if he'd ever seen her up close before. It was kind of unnerving.
Even when you were used to it. I just stared at her, gobsmacked.
She laughed. "Can I come in?"
"Yeah! Of course." I jumped back out of her way, knocking into Charlie in the process.
After a few seconds of bumbling around, I had her jacket hung up and had both her and Charlie sitting down in the living room. She was in the armchair, so I went to sit next to Charlie on the sofa.
"So, Edythe, how are your parents?"
"Excellent, thank you, Chief Swan."
"You can call me Charlie. I'm off the clock."
"Thanks, Charlie." She unleashed the dimples, and his face went blank.
It took him a second to recover. "So, um, you're playing baseball tonight?"
It didn't seem to occur to either of them that the buckets of water falling out of the sky right now should impact these plans. Only in Washington.
"Yes. Hopefully Beau doesn't mind hanging out with my family too much."
Charlie jumped in before I could respond. "I'd say it was the baseball he'd mind more."
They both laughed. I shot my dad a look. Where was the best behavior I'd been promised?
"Should we be on our way?" I suggested.
"We're not in any hurry," Edythe said with a grin.
I hit Charlie with my elbow. Edythe's smile got wider.
"Oh, uh, yeah," Charlie said. "You kids go ahead, I've got a… a bunch of stuff to get to.…"
Edythe was on her feet in a fluid move. "It was lovely to see you, Charlie."
"Yes. You come visit anytime, Edythe."
"Thank you, you're very kind."
Charlie ran a hand through his hair self-consciously. I didn't think I'd ever seen him so flustered.
"Will you kids be out super late?"
I looked at her.
"No, we'll be reasonable."
"Don't wait up, though," I added.
I handed her coat to her and then held the door. As she passed, Charlie gave me a wide-eyed look. I shrugged my shoulders and raised my eyebrows. I didn't know how I'd gotten so lucky, either.
I followed her out onto the porch, then stopped dead.
There, behind my truck, was a monster Jeep. Its tires were as high as my waist. There were metal guards over the headlights and taillights, and four large spotlights attached to the crash bar. The hardtop was shiny red.
Charlie let out a low whistle. "Wear your seat belts."
I went to the driver's side to get the door for Edythe. She was inside in one efficient little leap, though I was glad we were on the far side of the Jeep from Charlie, because it didn't look entirely natural. I went to my side and climbed gracelessly into my seat. She had the engine running now, and I recognized the roar that had surprised me earlier. It wasn't as loud as my truck, but it sounded a lot more brawny.
Out of habit—she wasn't going to start driving until I was buckled in—I reached for my seat belt.
"What—er—what is all this? How do I…?"
"Off-roading harness," she explained.
"Um."
I tried to find all the right connectors, but it wasn't going too fast. And then her hands were there, flashing around at a barely visible speed, and gone again. I was glad the rain was too thick to see Charlie clearly on the porch, because that meant he couldn't see me clearly, either.
"Er, thanks."
"You're welcome."
I knew better than to ask if she was going to put her own harness on.
She pulled away from the house.
"This is a… um… large Jeep you have."
"It's Eleanor's. She let me borrow it so we wouldn't have to run the whole way."
"Where do you keep this thing?"
"We remodeled one of the outbuildings into a garage."
Suddenly her first answer sank in.
"Wait. Run the whole way? As in, we're still going to run part of the way?" I demanded.
She pursed her lips like she was trying not to smile. "You're not going to run."
I groaned. "I'm going to puke in front of your family."
"Keep your eyes closed, you'll be fine."
I shook my head, sighed, then reached over and took her hand. "Hi. I missed you."
She laughed—it was a trilling sound, not quite human. "I missed you, too. Isn't that strange?"
"Why strange?"
"You'd think I'd have learned more patience over the last hundred years. And here I am, finding it difficult to pass an afternoon without you."
"I'm glad it's not just me."
She leaned over to swiftly kiss my cheek, then pulled back quickly and sighed. "You smell even better in the rain."
"In a good way or a bad way?"
She frowned. "Always both."
I don't know how she even knew where we were going with the downpour—it was like a liquid gray curtain around the Jeep—but she somehow found a side road that was more or less a mountain path. For a long while conversation was impossible, because I was bouncing up and down on the seat like a jackhammer. She seemed to enjoy the ride, though, smiling hugely the whole way.
And then we came to the end of the road; the trees formed green walls on three sides of the Jeep. The rain was a mere drizzle, slowing every second, the sky brighter through the clouds.
"Sorry, Beau, we have to go on foot from here."
"You know what? I'll just wait here."
"What happened to all your courage? You were extraordinary this morning."
"I haven't forgotten the last time yet." Was it really only yesterday?
She was around to my side of the car in a blur, and she started on the harness.
"I'll get those, you go on ahead," I protested. She was finished before I got the first few words out.
I sat in the car, looking at her.
"You don't trust me?" she asked, hurt—or pretending to be hurt, I thought.
"That really isn't the issue. Trust and motion sickness have zero relationship to each other."
She looked at me for a minute, and I felt pretty stupid sitting there in the Jeep, but all I could think about was the most sickening roller-coaster ride I'd ever been on.
Do you remember what I was saying about mind over matter?" she asked.
"Yes…"
"Maybe if you concentrated on something else."
"Like what?"
Suddenly she was in the Jeep with me, one knee on the seat next to my leg, her hands on my shoulders. Her face was only inches away. I had a light heart attack.
"Keep breathing," she told me.
"How?"
She smiled, and then her face was serious again. "When we're running—and yes, that part is nonnegotiable—I want you to concentrate on this."
Slowly, she moved in closer, turning her face to the side so that we were cheek to cheek, her lips at my ear. One of her hands slid down my chest to my waist.
"Just remember us… like this.…"
Her lips pulled softly on my earlobe, then moved slowly across my jaw and down my neck.
"Breathe, Beau," she murmured.
I sucked in a loud lungful.
She kissed under the edge of my jaw, and then along my cheekbone. "Still worried?"
"Huh?"
She chuckled. Her hands were holding my face now, and she lightly kissed one eyelid and then the next.
"Edythe," I breathed.
Then her lips were on mine, and they weren't quite as gentle and cautious as they always had been before. They moved urgently, cold and unyielding, and though I knew better, I couldn't think coherently enough to make good decisions. I didn't consciously tell my hands to move, but my arms were wrapped around her waist, trying to pull her closer. My mouth moved with hers and I was gasping for air, gasping in her scent with every breath.
"Dammit, Beau!"
And then she was gone—slithering easily out of my grasp—already standing ten feet away outside the car by the time I'd blinked my way back to reality.
"Sorry," I gasped.
She stared warily at me with her eyes so wide the white showed all the way around the gold. I half-fell awkwardly from the car, then took a step toward her.
"I truly do think you'll be the death of me, Beau," she said quietly.
I froze. "What?"
She took a deep breath, and then she was right next to me. "Let's get out of here before I do something really stupid," she muttered.
She turned her back to me, staring back over her shoulder with a get on with it look.
And how was I supposed to reject her now? Feeling like a gorilla again, only even more ridiculous than before, I climbed onto her back.
"Keep your eyes shut," she warned, and then she was off.
I forced my eyes closed, trying not to think about the speed of the wind that was pushing the skin flat against my skull. Other than that tell, it was hard to believe we were really flying through the forest like we had before. The motion of her body was so smooth, I would have thought she was just strolling down the sidewalk—with a gorilla on her back. Her breath came and went evenly.
I wasn't entirely sure we had stopped when she reached back and touched my face.
"It's over, Beau."
I opened my eyes, and sure enough, we were at a standstill. In my hurry to get off her, I lost my balance. She turned just in time to watch as I—arms windmilling wildly—fell hard on my butt.
For a second she stared like she wasn't sure if she was still too mad to find me funny, but then she must have decided that she was not too mad.
She burst into long peals of laughter, throwing her head back and holding her arms across her stomach.
I got up slowly and brushed the mud and weeds off the back of my jeans the best I could while she kept laughing.
"You know, it would probably be more humane for you to just dump me now," I said glumly. "It's not going to get any easier for me over time."
She took a few deep breaths, trying to get control of herself.
I sighed and started walking in the most path-like direction I could see.
Something caught the back of my sweater, and I smiled. I looked over my shoulder. She had a fistful of sweater, the same way she'd grabbed me outside the nurse's office.
"Where are you going, Beau?"
"Wasn't there a baseball game happening?"
"It's the other way."
I pivoted. "Okay."
She took my hand and we started walking slowly toward a dark patch of forest.
"I'm sorry I laughed."
"I would have laughed at me, too."
"No, I was just a little… agitated. I needed the catharsis."
We walked silently for a few seconds.
"At least tell me it worked—the mind-over-matter experiment."
"Well… I didn't get sick."
"Good, but…?"
"I wasn't thinking about… in the car. I was thinking about after."
She didn't say anything.
"I know I already apologized, but… sorry. Again. I will learn how to do better, I know—"
"Beau, stop. Please, you make me feel even more guilty when you apologize."
I looked down at her. We'd both stopped walking. "Why should you feel guilty?"
She laughed again, but this time there was an almost hysterical edge to her laugh. "Oh, indeed! Why should I feel guilty?"
The darkness in her eyes made me anxious. There was pain there, and I didn't know how to make it better. I put my hand against her cheek. "Edythe, I don't understand what you're saying."
She closed her eyes. "I just can't seem to stop putting you in danger. I think I'm in control of myself, and then it gets so close—I don't know how to not be this anymore." Eyes still closed, she gestured to herself. "My very existence puts you at risk. Sometimes I truly hate myself. I should be stronger, I should be able to—"
I moved my hand to cover her mouth. "Stop."
Her eyes opened. She peeled my hand off her mouth and placed it over her cheek again.
"I love you," she said. "It's a poor excuse for what I'm doing, but it's still true."
It was the first time she'd ever said she loved me—in so many words. Like she'd said this morning, it was different, hearing the words out loud.
"I love you," I told her when I'd caught my breath. "I don't want you to be anything other than what you are."
She sighed. "Now, be a good boy," she said, and stretched up on her tiptoes.
I held very still while she brushed her lips softly against mine.
We stared at each other for a minute.
"Baseball?" she asked.
"Baseball," I agreed much more confidently than I felt.
She took my hand and led me a few feet through the tall ferns and around a massive hemlock tree, and we were suddenly there, on the edge of an enormous clearing on the side of a mountain. It was twice the size of any baseball stadium.
All of the others were there. Earnest, Eleanor, and Royal were sitting on an outcropping of rock, maybe a hundred yards away. Much farther out I could see Jessamine and Archie standing at least a quarter of a mile apart. It was almost like they were pantomiming playing catch; I never saw any ball. It looked like Carine was marking bases, but that couldn't be right. The points were much too far apart.
When we walked into view, the three on the rocks stood. Earnest started toward us. Royal walked away, toward where Carine was setting up. Eleanor followed Earnest after a long look at Royal's back.
I was staring at Royal's back, too. It made me nervous.
"Was that you we heard before, Edythe?" Earnest asked.
"Sounded like a hyena choking to death," Eleanor added.
I smiled tentatively at Earnest. "That was her."
"Beau was being funny," Edythe explained.
Archie had left off his game of catch and was running toward us—it was like his feet never touched the ground. In half a heartbeat he was there, hurtling to a stop right in front of us.
"It's time," he announced.
The second he spoke, a deep rumble of thunder shook the forest behind us and then crashed westward toward town.
"Eerie, isn't it?" Eleanor said to me. When I turned to look at her, surprised that she was so casual with me, she winked.
"Let's go!" Archie took Eleanor's hand and they darted toward the oversized diamond. Archie almost… bounded—like a stag, but closer to the ground. Eleanor was just as fast and nearly as graceful, but she was something altogether different. Something that charged, not bounded.
"Are you ready for some ball?" Edythe asked, her eyes bright.
It was impossible not to be enthusiastic about something that clearly made her happy. "Go team!"
She laughed, quickly ran her fingers through my hair, then raced off after the other two. Her run was more aggressive than either of the others', like a cheetah to a gazelle—but still supple and heartbreakingly beautiful. She quickly caught up to and then passed the others.
"Shall we go watch?" Earnest asked in his soft tenor voice. I realized that I was staring openmouthed after them. I quickly reassembled my expression and nodded. Earnest kept a few feet farther away than was exactly normal for two people walking together, and I figured he was still being careful not to frighten me. He matched his stride to mine without seeming impatient at the pace.
"You don't play with them?" I asked.
"No, I prefer to referee. I like keeping them honest."
"Do they cheat?"
"Oh yes—and you should hear the arguments they get into! Actually, I hope you don't, you would think they were raised by a pack of wolves."
"You sound like my dad," I laughed.
He laughed, too. "Well, I do think of them as my children in most ways. I never could get over—" He broke off, and then took a deep breath. "Did Edythe tell you I lost my daughter?"
"Er, no," I murmured, stunned, scrambling to understand what lifetime he was remembering.
"My only child—my Grace. She died when she was barely two. It broke my heart—that's why I jumped off the cliff, you know," he added calmly.
"Oh, um, Edythe just said you fell.…"
"Always so polite." Earnest smiled. "Edythe was the first of my new children. My second daughter. I've always thought of her that way—though she's older than I, in one way at least—and wondered if my Grace would have grown into such an amazing person." He looked at me and smiled warmly. "I'm so happy she's found you, Beau. She's been the odd man out for far too long. It's hurt me to see her alone."
"You don't mind, then?" I asked, hesitant again. "That I'm… all wrong for her?"
"No," he said thoughtfully. "You're what she wants. It will all work out, somehow." But his forehead creased with worry.
Another peal of thunder began.
Earnest stopped then; apparently, we'd reached the edge of the field. It looked as if they had formed teams. Edythe was far out in left field, Carine stood between the first and second bases, and Archie held the ball, positioned on the spot that must be the pitcher's mound.
Eleanor was swinging an aluminum bat; it whistled almost untraceably through the air. I waited for her to approach home plate, but then I realized, as she leaned into her stance, that she was already there—farther from the pitcher's mound than I would have thought possible. Jessamine stood several feet behind her, catching for the other team. Of course, none of them had gloves.
"All right," Earnest called in a clear voice, which I guessed even Edythe would hear, as far out as she was. "Batter up."
Archie stood straight, still as a statue. His style seemed to be stealth rather than an intimidating windup. He held the ball in both hands at his waist, and then, like the strike of a cobra, his right hand flicked out and the ball smacked into Jessamine's hand with a sound like a gunshot.
"Was that a strike?" I whispered to Earnest.
"If they don't hit it, it's a strike," he told me.
Jessamine hurled the ball back to Archie's waiting hand. He permitted himself a brief grin. And then his hand spun out again.
This time the bat somehow made it around in time to smash into the invisible ball. The crack of impact was shattering, thunderous; it echoed off the mountainside—I immediately understood the need for the storm.
I was barely able to follow the ball, shooting like a meteor above the field, flying deep into the surrounding forest.
"Home run," I muttered.
"Wait," Earnest said. He was listening intently, one hand raised. Eleanor was a blur around the bases, Carine shadowing her. I realized Edythe was missing.
"Out!" Earnest cried. I stared in disbelief as Edythe sprang from the fringe of the trees, ball in her upraised hand, her wide grin visible even to me.
"Eleanor hits the hardest," Earnest explained, "but Edythe runs the fastest."
It was like watching superheroes play. It was impossible to keep up with the speed at which the ball flew, the rate at which their bodies raced around the field.
I learned the other reason they waited for a thunderstorm to play when Jessamine, trying to avoid Edythe's infallible fielding, hit a ground ball toward Carine. Carine ran into the ball, and then raced Jessamine to first base. When they collided, the sound was like the crash of two massive falling boulders. I jumped up, afraid someone would be hurt, but they were both totally fine.
"Safe," Earnest called in a calm voice.
Eleanor's team was up by one—Royal managed to tear around the bases after tagging up on one of Eleanor's long flies—when Edythe caught the third out. She sprinted to my side, beaming with excitement.
"What do you think?" she asked.
"One thing's for sure, I'll never be able to sit through dull old Major League Baseball again."
"And it sounds like you did so much of that before," she laughed.
"I am a little disappointed," I teased.
"Why?"
"Well, it would be nice if I could find just one thing you didn't do better than everyone else on the planet."
She flashed her dimples, leaving me breathless.
"I'm up," she said, heading for the plate.
She played intelligently, keeping the ball low, out of the reach of Royal's always-ready hand in the outfield, gaining two bases like lightning before Eleanor could get the ball back in play. Carine knocked one so far out of the field—with a boom that hurt my ears—that she and Edythe both made it in. Archie slapped them high fives.
The score constantly changed as the game continued, and they razzed each other like street ballplayers as they took turns with the lead. Occasionally Earnest would call them to order. The thunder rumbled on, but we stayed dry, as Archie had predicted.
Carine was up to bat, Edythe catching, when Archie suddenly gasped. My eyes were on Edythe, as usual, and I saw her head snap up to look at him. Their eyes met and something flowed between them in half a second. She was at my side before the others could ask Archie what was wrong.
"Archie?" Earnest asked, tense.
"I didn't see," Archie whispered. "I couldn't tell."
They were all gathered in now.
Carine was calm, authoritative. "What is it, Archie?"
"They were traveling much quicker than I thought. I can see I had the perspective wrong before," he murmured.
Jessamine put her arm around him, her posture protective. "What changed?" she asked.
"They heard us playing, and it changed their path," Archie said, contrite, as if he felt responsible for whatever had happened.
Seven pairs of quick eyes flashed to my face and away.
"How soon?" Carine asked.
A look of intense concentration crossed his face.
"Less than five minutes. They're running—they want to play." He scowled.
"Can you make it?" Carine asked Edythe, her eyes flicking toward me again.
"No, not carrying—" She cut short. "Besides, the last thing we need is for them to catch the scent and start hunting."
"How many?" Eleanor asked Archie.
"Three."
"Three!" she scoffed. "Let them come." The long bands of muscle flexed down her arms.
For a split second that seemed much longer than it really was, Carine deliberated. Only Eleanor seemed relaxed; the rest stared at Carine's face, obviously anxious.
"Let's just continue the game," Carine finally decided. Her voice was cool and level. "Archie said they were simply curious."
The entire conference lasted only a few seconds, but I had listened carefully and thought I'd caught most of it. I couldn't hear what Earnest asked Edythe now with just an intense look. I only saw the slight shake of her head and the look of relief on his face.
"You catch, Earnest," she said. "I'll call it now."
She stood right next to me as the others returned to the field, all of their eyes sweeping the forest. Archie and Earnest seemed to orient themselves around where I stood.
I stated the obvious. "The others are coming now."
"Yes, stay very still, keep quiet, and don't move from my side, please." I could hear the stress in her voice, though she tried to hide it.
"That won't help," Archie murmured. "I could smell him across the field."
"I know," Edythe snapped.
Carine stood at the plate, and the others joined the game halfheartedly.
"What did Earnest ask you?" I whispered.
She hesitated a second before she answered. "Whether they were thirsty."
The seconds dragged by while the game progressed apathetically. No one dared to hit harder than a bunt, and Eleanor, Royal, and Jessamine hovered in the infield. Now and again, I was aware of Royal's eyes on me. They were expressionless, but something about the way he held his mouth made me sure he was angry.
Edythe paid no attention to the game at all, eyes and mind scanning the forest.
"I'm sorry, Beau," she muttered fiercely. "It was stupid, irresponsible, to expose you like this. I'm so sorry."
I heard her breath stop, and her eyes zeroed in on right field. She took a half-step, angling herself between me and what was coming. It made me start to panic, like I had before, imagining her between me and Royal—Edythe in danger. I was pretty sure whatever was coming now was worse than Royal.