Fablehaven: The Complete Series (7 page)

Kendra walked out to the back porch, shielded from the rain by the overhang. She loved the fresh, damp scent of rainfall. It continued to come down hard, puddling around the garden. Where did the butterflies hide from such a downpour?

Then she saw Lena. The housekeeper knelt in the mud beside a bush blossoming with large blue and white roses, absolutely soaked, apparently weeding. Her white hair was plastered to her head, and her housecoat was drenched.

“Lena?”

The housekeeper looked up, smiled, and waved.

Kendra retrieved an umbrella from the hall closet and joined Lena in the garden. “You’re sopping,” Kendra said.

Lena rooted out a weed. “It’s a warm rain. I like being out in the weather.” She stuffed the weed into a bulging garbage bag.

“You’re going to catch a cold.”

“I don’t often take ill.” She paused to stare up at the clouds. “It won’t last much longer.”

Kendra tilted her umbrella back and gazed heavenward. Leaden skies in all directions. “You think?”

“Wait and see. The rain will pass within the hour.”

“Your knees are all muddy.”

“You think I’ve lost my marbles.” The diminutive woman stood up and spread her arms wide, tilting her head back. “Do you ever look up at the rain, Kendra? It feels like the sky is falling.”

Kendra tilted the umbrella back again. Millions of raindrops rushed toward her, some pelting her face and making her blink. “Or like you’re soaring up to the clouds,” she said.

“I suppose I should get you inside before my unusual habits rub off.”

“No, I didn’t mean to disturb you.” Back under the protection of the umbrella, Kendra wiped droplets from her forehead. “I guess you don’t want the umbrella.”

“That would defeat the purpose. I’ll be in shortly.”

Kendra returned to the house. She stole glances at Lena through a window. It was just so peculiar, she couldn’t resist spying. Sometimes Lena was working. Sometimes she was smelling a blossom or stroking its petals. And the rain kept falling.

* * *

Kendra was sitting on her bed, reading poems by Shel Silverstein, when the room suddenly brightened. The sun was out.

Lena had been right about the rain. It had relented about forty minutes after her prediction. The housekeeper had come inside, changed out of her wet clothes, and made sandwiches.

Across the room, the painting of the knight charging the dragon was complete. Seth had gone outside an hour ago. Kendra was in a lazy mood.

Just as Kendra returned her attention to the latest poem, Seth burst into the room, breathing hard. He wore only socks on his feet. His clothes were streaked with mud. “You
have
to come see what I found in the woods.”

“Another witch?”

“No. Way cooler.”

“A hobo camp?”

“I’m not going to say; you have to come see.”

“Does it involve hermits or lunatics?”

“No people,” he said.

“How far from the yard?”

“Not far.”

“We could get in trouble. Besides, it’s muddy out.”

“Grandpa is hiding a beautiful park in the woods,” Seth blurted.

“What?” asked Kendra.

“You have to come see it. Put on galoshes or something.”

Kendra closed the book.

* * *

The sunlight came and went, depending on the shifting clouds. A soft breeze ruffled the foliage. The woods smelled mulchy. Scrambling over a damp, rotting log, Kendra shrieked when she saw a glistening white frog.

Seth turned around. “Awesome.”

“Try
disgusting.”

“I’ve never seen a white frog,” said Seth. He tried to grab it, but the frog took an enormous leap as he approached. “Whoa! That thing flew!”

He checked the underbrush where the frog had landed, but found nothing.

“Hurry up,” Kendra said, glancing back the way they had come. The house was no longer in sight. She could not shake the sick, nervous feeling in her stomach.

Unlike her little brother, Kendra was not a natural rule breaker. She was in all the accelerated classes at school, got almost perfect grades, kept her room tidy, and always practiced for her piano lessons. Seth, on the other hand, settled for lousy grades, routinely skipped his homework, and earned frequent detentions. Of course, he was also the one with all the friends, so maybe there was a method to his madness.

“What’s the rush?” He took the lead again, blazing a trail through the undergrowth.

“The longer we’re gone, the more likely somebody will notice we’re missing.”

“It isn’t much farther. See that hedge?”

It was not exactly a hedge. More like a tall barrier of unkempt bushes. “You call that a hedge?”

“The park is on the far side.”

The wall of bushes extended as far as Kendra could see in either direction. “How do we get around it?”

“
Through
 it. You’ll see.”

They reached the bushes and Seth turned left, studying the leafy barricade as he went, occasionally squatting and checking closer. The interlocked bushes ranged from ten to twelve feet tall, and they looked really thick.

“Okay, I think this is where I squirmed through.” There was a deep indentation at the base of where two bushes overlapped. Seth dropped to all fours and forced his way in.

“You’re going to have a billion ticks,” Kendra predicted.

“They’re all hiding from the rain,” he replied with perfect confidence.

Kendra got down and followed him.

“I don’t think this is the same way I got through last time,” Seth admitted. “It’s a little more cramped. But it should work.” He was now slithering on his belly.

“This better be good.” Kendra squirmed on her elbows, eyes squinted. The damp ground felt cold, and droplets fell from the bush as she jostled it. Seth reached the far side and stood up. She crawled through as well, her eyes widening as she got to her feet.

Before her lay a pristine pond, a couple of hundred yards across, with a small, verdant island at the center. A series of elaborate gazebos surrounded the pond, interconnected by a whitewashed boardwalk. Flowering vines wound along the latticework of the impressive promenade. Elegant swans glided on the water. Butterflies and hummingbirds wove and darted among the blossoms. On the far side of the pond, peacocks strutted and preened.

“What in the world?” Kendra gasped.

“Come on.” Seth started across the lush, neatly mown lawn toward the nearest gazebo. Kendra looked back, understanding why Seth had called the disheveled barrier of bushes a hedge. On this side, the bushes were neatly trimmed. The hedgerow encompassed the entire area, with a single arched entryway off to one side.

“Why didn’t we come through the entryway?” Kendra asked, trotting after her brother.

“Shortcut.” Seth paused at the white steps leading up to the gazebo to pluck a piece of fruit from an espalier. “Try one.”

“You should wash it,” Kendra said.

“It just rained.” He took a bite. “It’s so good.”

Kendra tried one. It was the sweetest nectarine she had ever tasted. “Delicious.”

Together they mounted the steps of the extravagant pavilion. The wood railing was perfectly smooth. Although unshielded from the elements, all the woodwork appeared to be in flawless condition: no peeling paint, no cracks, no splinters.

The gazebo was furnished with white wicker love seats and chairs. In some places the ubiquitous vines had been woven into living wreaths and other fanciful patterns. A bright parrot sat on a high perch staring down at them.

“Look at the parrot!” Kendra exclaimed.

“Last time I saw some monkeys,” Seth said. “Little guys with long arms. They were swinging all over the place. And there was a goat. It ran away as soon as it saw me.”

Seth took off, clomping down one of the boardwalks. Kendra followed more slowly, absorbing the scene. It looked like the setting of a fairy-tale wedding. She counted twelve pavilions, each unique. One had a small white quay projecting into the pond. The little pier was connected to a floating shed that had to be a boathouse.

Kendra strolled after Seth, whose ruckus was sending the swans drifting toward the far side of the lake, leaving V-shaped ripples in their wake. The sun broke through the clouds and gleamed upon the water.

Why would Grandpa Sorenson keep a place like this a secret? It was magnificent! Why go through all the trouble of maintaining it if not to enjoy it? Hundreds of people could gather here with room to spare.

Kendra went to the gazebo with the pier and found that the boathouse was locked. It was not large; she guessed it held a few canoes or rowboats. Maybe Grandpa Sorenson would give them permission to paddle around the pond. No, she could not even tell him she knew about this place! Was that why he had told them about the ticks and made rules against venturing into the woods? To keep his little Eden hidden? Could he be so selfish and secretive?

Kendra finished a complete lap around the pond, walking on clean wooden planks the entire way. Across the pond Seth yelled, and a small flock of cockatoos took flight. The sun retreated behind clouds. They needed to get back. Kendra told herself she could return later.

* * *

Kendra was concerned when she cut into her steak. The middle was pink, almost red at the center. Grandpa Sorenson and Dale were already taking bites.

“Is my steak cooked?” Kendra ventured.

“’Course it’s cooked,” Dale said around a mouthful.

“It’s pretty red in the middle.”

“Only way to eat a steak,” Grandpa said, dabbing his mouth with a linen napkin. “Medium rare. Keeps it juicy and tender. If you cook it all the way through, you might as well eat shoe leather.”

Kendra glanced at Lena.

“Go ahead, dear,” the woman urged. “You won’t get sick; I cooked it plenty.”

“I like it,” Seth said, chewing on a bite. “We have any ketchup?”

“Why would you go and ruin a perfectly good steak with ketchup?” Dale moaned.

“You put it on your eggs,” Lena reminded him, placing a bottle in front of Seth.

“That’s different. Ketchup and onions on eggs is a necessity.”

“That’s sickening,” Seth said, upending the bottle over his steak.

Kendra took a bite of the garlic potatoes. They were tasty. Mustering her courage, she sampled the steak. Bursting with flavorful seasoning, it was much easier to chew than other steak she had eaten. “The steak is wonderful,” she said.

“Thank you, dear,” said Lena.

They ate in silence for a few moments. Grandpa dabbed his mouth with his napkin again and cleared his throat.

“What do you suppose makes people so eager to break rules?”

Kendra felt a jolt of guilt. The question was addressed generally and hung there awaiting a response. When nobody answered, Grandpa continued.

“Is it simply the pleasure of disobedience? The thrill of rebellion?”

Kendra glanced at Seth. He stared at his plate, picking at his potatoes.

“Were the rules unfair, Kendra? Was I being unreasonable?”

“No.”

“Did I leave you with nothing to do, Seth? No pool? No tree house? No toys or hobbies?”

“We had things to do.”

“Then why did you two go into the woods? I warned you there would be consequences.”

“Why are you hiding weird old ladies out in the forest?” Seth blurted.

“Weird old ladies?” Grandpa asked.

“Yeah, what about that?”

Grandpa nodded thoughtfully. “She has a rotten old rope. You didn’t blow on it?”