“Oh yeah,” Martha said. “This is Elsie and Rachel Mehlberg. They were there for only a week before they were made Unadoptable.”

The kids all murmured hellos to one another. Michael returned his warm gaze to Martha. “Martha Song,” he said, “I was wondering when you’d make it in here. I mean, not to be cruel—I know it’s a little hard at first—but I was sort of hoping that you’d be made Unadoptable sooner. I kinda missed you.”

Martha smiled. “Yeah, I missed you too, Michael.” She turned to Elsie and Rachel. “Michael and I ended up at the Unthank Home around the same time; we’d been really close since we were kids.” Looking back at the boy: “It broke my heart when you left. I cried for, like, three days straight.”

“I know, Martha,” he said. “It’s so good to see you again.”

Martha studied the boy for a moment before saying, “You don’t look any different. I mean, not a lick different.”

Michael only smiled. Turning to Elsie and Rachel, he said, “You’ll have to meet Carol.”

“Who’s Carol?” asked Martha.

“He’s kind of our father here. The patriarch of our big brood.” Michael stood up, and, opening the screen door to the cottage, he yelled the man’s name. “We’ve got a few more family members to welcome to the dale!”

While they waited for the man to come, Martha peppered Michael with questions. She, like Elsie and Rachel, was feeling deeply baffled by the afternoon’s events.

“When I came here,” the boy was telling, “I was as scared as you guys are. Believe me. All of us, it’s all the same. Unthank had me drink this weird pink cordial. It made me so sick. As soon as I crossed into the woods I was, like, puking my guts out. But once I’d gotten my bearings, I started wandering. I was intent on getting my freedom—I knew some kids in town who’d be willing to take me in, and needless to say, I was really excited to be freed of that terrible machine shop. But I found—like everyone else—that somewhere along the way I’d lost the twine that Unthank had given me. And no matter how much I wandered, I always seemed to end up in the same place. I started getting really scared; it was clear that I was caught up in some kind of weird maze. So instead of trying to get out, I just sort of focused my mind and started walking in. That’s the only way I can describe it. And eventually I came here, to this house. There were maybe a few other kids here—Unthank had only started the whole Unadoptable thing a few months before—and a whole lot of dogs.”

“Yeah—what’s up with the dogs?” asked Rachel, her hands still defensively folded at her chest. A black Lab was trying to lick her elbow.

“They’re neighborhood dogs, run away. This place is, like, the receptacle for lost dogs and cats who’ve wandered from their homes and into the Impassable Wilderness. We get a new one every few months or so.”

“Whoa,” murmured Elsie. She looked at her sister. “I wonder if Fortinbras is in here.” That had been the name of their tabby cat; he’d disappeared the summer before.

“You’re free to look. No promises. Anyway,” Michael continued, “Carol had been here all along. He’d come years before, and he’d found this house and kept it up. He took us in, all of us lost orphans, and made us a real home here. A better home than I ever had in the Outside, that’s for sure.”

A voice, warm and crackly, came from within the house. “Who’s tellin tales about me, eh?”

Michael, hearing the voice, beamed. “Here he is.”

The screen door swung open; a graying old man appeared at the doorway. A young girl stood at his arm and helped him walk onto the porch.

“Who’s here, Michael?” called out the old man. “Who’s come to join our family?”

The man’s face was pale and freckled with liver spots; deep wrinkles crisscrossed his brow and cheeks and made troughlike pockets below his eyes. It was his eyes, in fact, that caught Elsie’s attention. They seemed to be looking just beyond the girls’ heads, though his body was facing in their direction. On closer inspection, his eyes seemed to be painted on and lifeless, like the rolling eyes of a baby doll. She saw the girl at his elbow guide him to the middle of the porch until his feet were planted firmly on the wood planks. His hand pawed at the air, uncertain, until it found Michael’s shoulder, where it came to rest.

“He’s blind!” said Elsie, despite herself.

In any other circumstance, Rachel would’ve shushed her sister for being rude, but she, too, was captivated by the old man’s appearance.

The man laughed at the observation. “Eh, but who needs eyes when you’ve got thirty-five pair at yer disposal, eh? These”—here he waved his arm to gesture to the children in the yard—“these are my eyes.”

The two eyes currently resting in his sockets moved a little as he spoke, looking cockeyed across the heads of the three girls. Elsie realized they were made of wood; two blue irises had been painted, somewhat crudely, on their polished surfaces.

“But I’ve not introduced myself,” said the man. “Name’s Carol. Carol Grod. And I welcome you, castoffs and castaways, to our little family.” He swiveled to face Michael. “How many we got here?”

“Three, Carol,” said Michael. “Three girls. One of ’em I know pretty well. We were friends, back in the Outside. Her name’s Martha. And this is Elsie and Rachel.”

“Aha!” exclaimed the man. “Three! That’s quite the bumper crop. Ol’ Unthank must’ve had his hands full with you bunch.” Two dogs, a collie and a German shepherd, had run up to the old man and yipped at him playfully. Dropping his hand from Michael’s shoulder, he gave them each an affectionate pat. An orange-striped cat on the banister of the porch slunk away from the collected dogs. “Come closer, you three,” he said. “Let me see you.”

Obeying his command, Elsie, Rachel, and Martha stepped closer; the old man lifted his hand from petting the dog and touched each of their faces in sequence. When he arrived at Elsie’s face, he paused. A slight frown played across his face. “Who’s this one?” he asked.

“I’m Elsie,” she said.

His eyebrows lifted as he continued to rest his palm on her cheek. “Elsie, eh? What a beautiful name. And which is your sister?”

“She’s right here, next to me,” said Elsie. He shifted from Elsie and let his hand gently rest on Rachel’s cheek. His brow seemed to buckle a little under some deeper assessment. “Elsie and Rachel,” he said, his voice a low purr.

Tags: Colin Meloy Wildwood Chronicles Fantasy
Source: readsnovelonline.net