She leaned back in the swing, letting her head and shoulders hang down and her legs tilt up. Dislodged from his perch, Pick gave a sharp exclamation, jumped down, and was gone. Nest let him go, weary of talking. She swung slowly in the humid night air, looking up at the stars, wishing suddenly that she could go fishing or hiking or maybe ran far out on the roadways that led through the surrounding farmland, wishing that she could be someplace else or maybe even be some other person. She felt a sudden need to escape her present and flee back into her past. She could feel her childhood slipping away, and she despaired suddenly of losing it. She did not want to grow up, even after having struggled so hard to do so. She wanted to go back, just for a little while, just long enough to remember what it was like to have the world be no bigger than your backyard. Then she would be all right. If she could just have one more chance to see things the way they were, she would be all right.
Behind her, Miss Minx strolled out of the shadows, eyes gleaming, paused for a long look, and disappeared back into the dark. Nest watched her go, hanging upside down hi the swing, and wondered where she went at night and what she did.
Then her ruminations drifted once more to John Ross, to the mystery that surrounded his coming, and she had a strange, unsettling thought.
Was it possible that he?
That he was?
She could not finish the thought, could not put it into words. She held it before her, suspended, a fragile piece of glass. She felt her heart stop and her stomach go cold. No, it was silly. It was foolish and impossible. No.
She closed her eyes and breathed the night air. Then she opened them again and let the thought complete itself.
Could John Ross be her father?
Robert Heppler was sitting alone in his room at his computer, pecking idly at the keys while he talked on the phone with Bri-anna Brown. “So, what do you think?”
“I think you’re making something out of nothing as usual, Robert.”
“Well, what does Cass think?” “Ask her yourself.”
He heard the phone being handed off to Cass Minter. He had called Cass first, thinking her the better choice for this conversation, but Mrs. Minter had said she was staying overnight at Brianna’s. Now he was stuck with talking to both of them. “Ask me what?” Cass growled into his ear. “About Nest. Don’t you think she’s acting weird? I mean, weirder than usual?”
“Weirder than you, you mean?” “Sure. Weirder than me. If it makes you happy.” Cass thought it over. “I don’t like the word ‘weird.’ She’s got something on her mind, that’s all.”
Robert sighed heavily. “Look. She comes to my house and practically drags me through the door, collects a bunch of dirt and salt, commandeers you and Brianna and your sister’s red wagon, then hauls the bunch of us out to the park to do some voodoo magic stuff on a sick tree. Then, when we’re done, she tells us to go on home, she’s too tired to go swimming. Just like that. Miss Aqua-Lung, who’s never turned down a chance to go swimming in her life. You don’t think that’s weird?”
“Look, Robert. People do things that other people find strange. That’s the way it is. Look at Cher. Look at Madonna. Look at you. Don’t be so judgmental!”
“I’m not being judgmental!” Robert was growing exasperated. “I’m worried, that’s all. There’s a difference, you know. I just wonder if there’s something wrong that she’s not telling us about. I just wonder if there’s something we ought to be doing! We’re supposed to be her friends, aren’t we?”
Cass paused again. In the background, Robert could hear Brianna arguing with her mother. It had something to do with spending too much time on the phone. Robert rolled his eyes. “Someone ought to tell that woman to get a life,” he muttered.
“What?” Cass asked, confused.
“Nothing. So what do you think? Should one of us call her up and ask her if she’s all right?”