The Wonder of All Things (9 page)

FOUR

THE ARNOLD HOUSE
was at the end of a large, wooded lot of land on Highland Street. It was the area of town where most of the wealthy northerners who migrated to Stone Temple built their houses. Dr. Arnold, though he hadn’t actually made himself wealthy working as the general practitioner of a small town, had built a house here before all of the new money came. And over the years he’d gotten by well enough that, even though his house was visibly more fatigued than the rest standing along the street, he’d kept it up enough that it did not seem out of place among all of the newness.

Privacy fences wrapped each of the yards along the street, including the doctor’s, but Ava had been to Dr. Arnold’s enough times over the years to know which of the boards in his fencing were loose enough to be pushed aside and slipped past. Every six months, like clockwork, Macon came to Dr. Arnold for a general checkup. He had always been a man that believed in the power of preventative medicine. And while he underwent the checkup, Ava, when she had answered all of Delores’s questions and eaten her fill of the woman’s food, would come into the backyard, slide through the loose board in the fencing and explore the large expensive houses of Highland Street.

Now, after leaving Carmen in Dr. Arnold’s examining room, and with Wash racing after her, Ava came out of the house, crossed the yard at a lope, wriggled through the loose board in the fencing and started up a narrow, wooded path that, eventually, emptied out again on Highland Street several houses down. It was a discreet enough path that anyone unfamiliar with the town, such as reporters, would not have been able to see her, and yet it afforded her the safety of having a way to get back to Dr. Arnold’s if someone did find her and she needed to get away from them.

She was hot with anger and the coolness of the day did nothing to detract from it. Only the sound of Wash, stumbling and panting as he struggled to catch up to her, did anything to relax the girl. “Ava,” Wash called out. “What are you doing? Where are you going?” he barked in pain as a tree limb Ava pushed aside suddenly snapped back and slapped him across the face. “That was straight out of the
Three Stooges,
” he said, and there was a strange pride in his voice. In spite of the gravitas and bedlam swirling in the world around them, it was only the comedy of the moment that the boy cared to acknowledge.

She did not want to go far—with all of the people that had come to town, she was afraid of what might happen if she strayed too far away from the Arnold house. But she needed air. She needed to be away from things. She needed to be alone...or as close to alone as she could get. And Wash had the uncanny ability to make her feel like she was away from everyone, but not alone in this world.

So it was with some degree of comfort that she made her way through the wooded path, around the back of the houses, and returned to the openness of Highland Avenue.

“Jeez,” Wash said, coming out of the bramble behind her. There was a large red mark on his cheek where the tree branch had smacked him. He rubbed it with the palm of his hand to soothe it. “Is it as bad as I think it is?” he asked, presenting his face to Ava.

Ava held back her laugh. “It looks like you got punched by a feather duster.”

“Funny,” Wash said, but there was lightness in his reply. He rubbed his cheek a little more, then looked back and forth along Highland Street. It was empty and quiet. Ava turned on her heel, and began slowly walking up the street.

“You do realize,” Wash began, falling into step beside her, “we shouldn’t be out here. You know how everyone is. There’s no telling what kind of people we might run into. There’s a reason you have police escorts now.”

Ava tucked her hands into her jacket pockets. The cold that lingered within her since waking up in the hospital tightened its grip on her. She straightened her back and tensed her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering. Then she walked and looked at the large houses lining the street.

They were grand and majestic. They had swimming pools—empty now in preparation for the winter—wrought-iron gates, sweeping, pristine lawns and statues. Ava imagined that everything inside those houses smelled new. She hated the houses as much as she loved them.

“What are you going to be?” Ava asked Wash.

“Excuse me?” he replied, caught off guard by the question. Then he immediately understood what he was being asked. “I don’t really know,” he said. “A teacher, maybe. I like reading enough for it. I’d have a class where people sat and read to one another. That’s the only thing I never really liked about reading at school—we do all of it at home. We should do it more in groups. Make a really big deal out of it. That way everyone gets to hear the story at the same time, you know? It turns into something we share instead of something we just do by ourselves.”

“But what if someone doesn’t read well?” Ava asked.

“Then the class teaches them to get better at it. Next silly question?”

Ava bumped him with her shoulder playfully. She was getting used to the cold. “What about you?” Wash asked. “What do you want to do one day? If that was your house,” he said, pointing to a large multigabled estate tucked behind a wrought-iron gate. “What would you do for a living? What kind of person would you be?”

The two of them stood before the house as if its gates might suddenly open and beckon them to enter and take up the lives of their imaginings. “I’d live alone,” Ava said finally. “Away from everybody. I’m not sure what my job would be, but if I could, I’d have a gate just like this and I wouldn’t let anybody come and visit me.”

Wash laughed. “I’m not sure I like that idea,” he said. “It can go one of two ways—Master Yoda did it, and he came out okay. But Gollum from
Lord of the Rings
did it, too, and that didn’t turn out okay. But, now that I think about it, in both cases they came out green and weird looking. So...if that’s what you’re shooting for...” He shrugged his shoulders comically.

He waited for Ava to smile, but when it did not come, he continued. “People don’t really live like that,” he said. “Not really.”

“Yes, they do,” Ava replied.

“No, they don’t,” Wash replied. And then he bent down and lifted a small pebble from the street and, with a grunt, tossed it over the fencing. “And, even if they did, why would you want to? People live with people. That’s just the way it works. Everybody needs someone.” He paused for a moment, as if grasping an idea in his mind but then immediately losing his handhold on it. “Or something like that. And I know you feel like everybody wants something from you right now, like everybody expects something. But that still doesn’t change the fact that you’ve got to have people. You can’t build a wall in front of the world.”

“Maybe I’ll have dogs,” Ava said. She started walking away from the house and Wash hurried to catch up to her. “Maybe I’ll do what your grandmother does and just have dogs.”

“But she doesn’t just have dogs,” Wash said. “She’s got me.”

“You’re not much smarter,” Ava said, and she smiled.

“I’m smarter than the average Pomeranian.”

“What about a dachshund?”

“I figure I could hold my own in a game of chess against a wiener dog,” Wash said. On his forehead, his thought trenches had sprung up, denoting the seriousness of his thinking.

“You don’t play chess,” Ava said.

“I get the idea of it, though.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“But I’m cute, though,” Wash said, and he laughed.

Ava paused and took in the image of the boy. “Maybe,” she said finally. Then she tugged his ear and continued walking.

But in their playfulness and conversation, neither of them saw the man walking down the street behind them. It wasn’t until he spoke, standing less than twenty yards away, that they spun, startled, and saw him. “Hi,” the man said. He stood on the far side of the street with his arms at his sides and a look of pleasant excitement across his face. “My name’s Sam,” the man said, his face beaming. He was tall and very large, with the frame of a man who had been an athlete in his youth and whose body, though it was in its forties now, had not relinquished its hold on its former glory. Beneath the dark crown of hair on his head—parted awkwardly on one side—Sam’s face was clean-shaven and with a tinge of childishness about it. “You’re really her, aren’t you?” Sam said.

Ava’s stomach tightened. Macon had told her that there would be people who wanted to meet her, people who would go to great lengths to do so. “The world is full of strange types,” he had said, his face full of conflict, as if he would not allow himself to say what he really wanted to. “Be careful of those kinds of people,” he said.

“We should go,” Wash said quickly. He took Ava by the elbow and stepped back.

“Don’t be afraid,” the man said, holding up his hands passively. He took a step backward almost as quickly as the children did, furthering the distance between them. “You shouldn’t talk to strangers,” Sam said. His voice was full of innocence. “I’m just, well, I’m just excited to meet you. My name’s Sam,” the man said again. He waved at Ava as if they were recognizing each other across a crowded room.

“We heard you the first time,” Wash said. He tugged Ava’s arm. “Let’s go,” he said, never taking his eyes off Sam. The two of them began walking back down the street, headed to where there was the path that would lead them back to Dr. Arnold’s. Ava walked with her eyes forward, the way she had learned to walk when there were reporters snapping her picture. Wash walked beside her, on the side facing the street and Sam.

“You’re that boy, aren’t you?” Sam called out to Wash. He remained on the far side of the street, but matched their pace as they walked. “You’re the one she healed!”

“Just keep walking,” Wash whispered to Ava.

“No, please,” Sam said, his voice quavered. “Please, I just want to talk to you. Please.”

Perhaps it was the apologetic tone of his voice. Perhaps it was the childishness in his face. Or perhaps it was the infinite courage of youth, with its inability to understand the harshness that the world is capable of. Whatever the reason, Ava stopped walking away.

“What are you doing?” Wash asked her.

“What do you want?” Ava asked, turning to Sam.

“Ava...” Wash whispered.

“Nothing,” Sam said. “I just wanted to meet you.” Sam still remained on the far side of the street, doing nothing to try and close the distance. His arms still rested at his sides, and there was something awkward about the way they did. There was something awkward and off about everything Sam did, Ava thought.

“I’ve got to go,” Ava said.

“Wait,” Sam replied. “Please.” He lifted his hands in a show of submission. He looked down at his feet for a second, and then he eased down onto the ground and sat with his legs folded. He tucked his hands beneath his, so that he was sitting on them. “Is this better?” he asked.

Ava and Wash both stared at the man. The size and width of him, which has been intimidating at first, was diminished now that he was sitting on the ground with his hands beneath him. Even Wash felt that, perhaps, the man really did only come to talk. And maybe he wasn’t as bad as first expected.

“Why did you come here?” Wash asked Sam.

“To meet her,” Sam replied. “Because you’re something amazing.” The smile he wore widened just a little. “I’ve followed all of this since the very beginning. Since the very first story, my brother and I both.” His voice rose and his body rocked and swayed with the energy of his excitement. “You’re amazing. You really did something!”

Ava studied Sam. She watched him as if she were watching an envoy of the entire world.

“How long have you been able to do it?” Sam asked.

“Can we go, Ava?” Wash said. He tugged Ava’s arm, but still she remained. “I don’t like this guy,” he said. “He’s...I don’t think he’s a hundred percent.”

“My brother is like you,” Sam said. “He’s a healer.” Then Sam’s smile cracked for a moment, as though an unpleasant memory were intruding upon the moment. “He does what he can to help me,” Sam said, and his voice was full of apology, “but I’m still not better.”

“I should go,” Ava said. The air was suddenly colder than it had been. A tremble ran through her body and she stuffed her hands into the pockets of her coat. “I should get back,” she said.

“Finally,” Wash added. But, still, Ava did not move.

“I understand. I’m sure that there are people worried about you.” Sam lifted one of his hands from beneath his body. It was pale from lack of circulation. He waved it to see the blood flow. “Do you mind if I stop sitting on my hands?” he asked, and offered his discolored hand as evidence of need.

He liberated his other hand and rubbed them together. “This is weird,” he said, looking at his hand, but perhaps talking to Ava. He shook his head. “Do you mind if I stand up?” He stood and brushed the back of his pants and put his hands into the pockets of his coat. He shifted his body weight from one leg to the other and stamped his feet, smiling all the while. “Cold,” he said. Then he offered his hand to Ava and took two steps forward. “Can I just shake your hand?” he asked. He looked down at his hand, then at the girl.

“No,” Wash answered.

“It’s okay, Wash,” Ava said. “I’m tired of being scared of everything. It’s just a handshake.” Before Wash could step in, in spite of everything inside of her that told her she should not be doing so, she walked forward across the street and shook Sam’s hand. “It’s good to meet you, Sam,” she said.

Sam gave Ava a two-handed handshake. “Thank you,” he said softly. “Thank you.” The handshake continued into awkwardness. It continued until Ava realized that, for her, it had already ended. Sam was clutching her hand. “You’ll help me, won’t you?” Sam said softly. There were tears in the corners of his eyes. “I’m not well,” he said. “I haven’t been well for a very long time. But you’ll change that, won’t you? You’ll help me.” Ava tried to withdraw her hand, but Sam seemed made of concrete. “I just need you to do for me what you did for your friend,” he said. “I just need you to help me. And then I’ll leave and you’ll never see me again. I promise.”

“Let me go,” Ava said. She was afraid. Truly and genuinely afraid. She struggled to pull away, but Sam matched her efforts. He overcame them, pulled her in like a sinkhole. Wash raced across the street and tried to pry the man’s grip from Ava’s, but to no avail. All of the size and muscle the man had previously exuded returned to him.