Wildwood (YA Paranormal Mystery) (11 page)

"Another sip," the old man said.

"Okay, one more." Todd took another mouthful before handing the cup back. "Now tell me what you know."

The vagrant smiled, a kindly smile that lit up his face. A gentle breeze fluttered the leaves, scattering dappled sunlight over the ground. Beneath his long greasy hair and ragged beard, the old man's skin seemed to glow. Todd rubbed his eyes, stared around the clearing. Greens and browns ran together as though one of Shaun's paintings had been left out in the rain.

"What's happening?" Todd's voice sounded far off, an echo in his ears. He couldn't have been poisoned. The old man had drunk the concoction himself.

Todd squinted at the vagrant. "Tell me. You promised," he mumbled.

"So I did." The man glowed brighter.

Darkness blossomed around the edges of Todd's vision. Whispered words echoed in his mind. For a moment, everything drifted away, then he blinked up at blue sky and realized he was lying on his back.

"Stand up, son."

Todd raised his head to see his father. Todd was lying in the center of the clearing from Dad's paintings.

Heart leaping, Todd jumped up and ran to his father, but something made him pull up short, not throw his arms around this man who had abandoned him to heartbreak and years of uncertainty. "Are you back...for good?"

"I never left you, son. You haven't been looking for me in the right places."

"I don't understand." Todd reached towards his dad, half expecting him to be a figment of his imagination, but his fingertips brushed the worn leather of his jacket, making Todd's blood race with excitement.

His father's hand landed on his shoulder, then gripped the back of his head before pulling him into an embrace. Todd hugged him, reveling in the nearly forgotten solid strength of the man.

"You've grown so tall. Almost a man with a man's fears and responsibilities, but not quite. Don't race forward to claim those burdens before you're ready. Let recent events settle back into the dust and look to
your
future."

Todd closed his eyes, pressing his face against his father's shoulder until his words penetrated Todd's whirring excitement. "Are you telling me to forget Andrew's murder?"

"Not forget.... Accept and move on. The path you're now treading will bring nothing but grief. The boy's death cannot be undone. You would do well to leave this place and return home."

The warm glow filling Todd faded. He stepped back. "I can't go home yet. Mum's in France. She's got a boyfriend who lives at our house. You must come home, Dad, and tell him to leave."

Richard Hunter stepped back and looked up at the sky. He raised his hands towards the sun and smiled.

"Dad," Todd shouted, with a sudden burst of fear. His uneven breaths filled his ears.

"Don't stay in Porthallow past two weeks, Todd," his father answered, but didn't look down. He started walking around the clearing, his lips forming silent words.

"Dad, I'm scared. What're you doing?" Todd tried to follow him, but the air seemed to ripple around him, the ground tilted and slipped away. He found himself on his back again, straggly grass pressed against his cheek. He fought to keep his eyes open as his father walked into the center of the clearing. Todd's eyelids drifted down for what felt like a second but could have been much longer. When he opened them again, his father had disappeared. In the center of the clearing where he'd stood, a huge oak tree now grew, towering over the rest of the forest.

Chapter Nine

Todd became aware of something tickling his nose. He swiped a hand across his face and tried to go back to sleep, but the annoying tickling continued. Groggily, he opened his eyes, surprised to find blue sky overhead rather than his bedroom ceiling.

For a few seconds, he blinked in confusion, shading his eyes. Then events trickled back into his mind, seeing Mrs. Bishop, searching the woods, the old vagrant, Dad!
Where was Dad?
With a jolt of excitement, Todd pushed up on his elbow and stared around—into the inquisitive faces of a group of cows.

"They think you're a novelty," Marigold's voice said behind him.

He turned his head so fast his brain rattled inside his skull. "Jeez." He closed his eyes, flopped back to the ground, and pressed his fingers against his temples. The vagrant's brew had given him a stinking hangover. Please don't say his meeting with Dad had been nothing but a hallucination?

When the hammering behind his eyeballs subsided, he slitted his eyes open to find Marigold leaning over him, grinning, a long stem of feathery grass twirling between her fingers. Now he knew who'd been tickling him.

How long had she watched him sleep? Hopefully, he hadn't done anything embarrassing like drool. Heat crept into his cheeks as she dipped the feathery seed head, trailing it along his jaw. Lying at her feet looking up at her wasn't helping him regain his cool. He levered himself into a sitting position, then closed his eyes while his brain caught up.

"You look as though you've had too much sun. How long've you been out here?"

He briefly considered telling her about the vagrant, asking if she'd ever seen the old man in the woods, but something stopped him. He needed to think over what had happened before he told anyone.

"I've forgotten." Todd squinted up at the position of the sun, ignoring the pain from the bright light in his eyes, and estimated it was three hours since he'd entered the wood. He must have been out in the sun for at least an hour. Long enough for the cows to find him and—he discovered when he looked down at his dirty jeans—dribble grassy goo on his legs. He guessed he'd be scrubbing these jeans clean himself. He couldn't expect Grandpa to wash them.

Marigold picked up a stick and waved it, shouting to scare the cows away. "How did you get so dirty?" She stared at his filthy jeans, cute little lines appearing between her eyebrows.

"Crawling around in the woods commando style, stalking wildlife."

Most girls he knew would have gaped at him as though he'd lost his mind. Marigold just said, "See anything interesting?"

Todd nodded and mentioned the birds he'd seen, hoping she wouldn't ask any questions about how he came to be unconscious in the field.

After examining the ground and kicking away some dried cow dung, she sat beside him and stared down the hill towards the village, chewing on her grass stalk. "So you didn't see any mammals?"

"Well there's rabbit scat along the edge of the field. I saw fox tracks and smelled one not far into the woods, and a badger's been scratching beside the path. I only saw signs, no animals," he answered.

"Some days I see a lot of wildlife on my walks," Marigold said. "Other days everything in the forest just goes still. It's spooky." She shivered.

Todd watched her profile as the wind flicked strands of golden hair around her face. She must be talking about the stillness he felt when his senses blanked. Did she sense nature in the same way he did? She might. Marigold wasn't like anyone he'd ever met before.

She smiled at him, her eyes glowing amber. For a moment he couldn't breathe, his chest warm and tight. He turned away quickly.

"You look rough, Todd." She placed her hand over his on the grass. "Come back with me and have a drink or something to eat before you walk home."

The thought of seeing Ruby Turpin again didn't make him feel any better. But he wanted to spend a little more time with Marigold before he headed back to Grandpa's shop. She might be able to tell him who the Cochran boys were.

He decided to wait until they were at her house before he asked questions.

When he pushed to his feet, the world swam. Marigold took his arm, and he leaned on her, disoriented. As soon as he felt steady enough, he eased away from the support of her slender arm, embarrassed.

They walked side by side through the long grass. Marigold swished her feet in the wildflowers. She wore old-fashioned canvas tennis shoes similar to the ones Todd had worn at junior school, except hers were yellow, decorated with small flowers.

When they neared the cottage, Marigold led Todd into the woods and cut along a well-trodden path to the small gate in the back wall.

Todd paused to stare over his shoulder as she held the gate open, remembering the movement in the trees the morning he'd discovered Andrew's body and his suspicion that she'd been with the two guys. There was another possibility. She might have been talking to the vagrant. Todd released a lingering breath before walking between the rows of vegetables and flowers that filled the back garden.

As they approached the house, Todd stopped beside the shed and stared at the open back door, remembering Mrs. Turpin's strange reaction to him last time.

"Come on." Marigold took his hand, and he let her tug him to a shady garden bench. "Wait here. I'll fetch you a drink."

Todd half expected Mrs. Turpin to burst out of the door and tell him to leave, but Marigold returned alone with a glass of homemade lemonade and a fruit cake.

After his recent experience, he balked at another homemade concoction, but this drink smelled of lemons and the glass was blissfully cold. He pressed it against his hot cheeks. Possibly, his woozy feeling was partly due to heat stroke. He sipped, discovering it tasted good. The cake was even better, crumbly, and full of fruit.

With Marigold watching him chew, he felt self-conscious. After he'd finished his mouthful, to distract her he asked, "Have you heard of the Cochran boys?"

The moment the words left his mouth, he sensed a change in her. She looked away and bit her lip.

"They died five years ago." Her narrow shoulders heaved as she drew in a breath. Then she faced him, pasting on a smile as if consciously pulling herself back from her troubled thoughts. "Mum asked if you want to come to dinner tonight."

Todd stopped chewing in mid-bite. Why would Mrs. Turpin ask him to dinner? Last time he saw her, he'd have sworn she didn't even want him over her threshold. "Are you sure?"

"Course I'm sure, silly." Marigold laughed. "Did you think I made it up?"

"No." Todd finished his cake. "I didn't think she liked me much, though."

"She likes you well enough. She's just cautious."

About what? Maybe Ruby Turpin knew about Andrew cornering Marigold and she didn't trust any boys around her daughter. Or maybe she was still angry with his dad about something that happened years ago. He'd enjoy having dinner with Marigold, but he wasn't sure he'd manage to eat anything if he had to make conversation with Mrs. Turpin.

Marigold must have sensed he was about to make an excuse because she gave him a knowing look. "If you come tonight, I'll tell you all I know about the Cochran boys and their sister."

There was a girl as well? The old man hadn't mentioned a girl. "You say they died five years ago?"

"If you want the story, be back here at seven thirty."

Todd finished his lemonade and rose to his feet slowly, expecting his head to spin. But he felt all right. The food and drink must have settled his stomach.

"Okay. Thank your mum for me. I'll see you later." After what the vagrant had said, he'd brave dinner with the witch to find out more about the Cochrans, and how their deaths were connected with Andrew's.

On the walk home, Todd started to regret accepting Marigold's dinner invitation. He replayed his first meeting with Ruby Turpin in the light of what Grandpa had said about her being his father's childhood sweetheart. She obviously still held a grudge against his dad. If she questioned Todd about him or, even worse, about his mother, dinner would be very awkward. But he had to go because he couldn't hurt Marigold's feelings. He sensed she'd been hurt a lot. Despite her cheerfulness, it only took one wrong question to crack her happy shell and release the hidden sadness inside.

When he reached the village, he stopped on the sidewalk outside the shop to brush the worst of the dirt off his jeans. The shop was busy with vacationers carrying baskets full of groceries. The woman behind the checkout said hello to him. Then his grandpa called to him from the storeroom.

Todd stopped in the storeroom doorway and sniffed the strangely nice smell of cardboard and concrete, which reminded him of the gym store at school. Grandpa ticked a form before looking up from his clipboard. "Good Lord. What happened to your clothes?"

Todd repeated the story he'd told Marigold about tracking animals.

Grandpa's bushy eyebrows rose towards his hairline. "As long as you don't kill anything up there, I don't mind. But you must rinse those jeans off before they go in the washing machine."