“Accidents like this happen,” Faye continued brusquely. “I can
understand that as well as anyone else. Just clean him up, child, and don’t put
it off, or it will only get worse.”
“That’s wise advice. Thank you.”
She reached forward and used a fingertip to flick back the cloth covering
my basket. “Is that fruit loaf?”
“Yes. To thank you for being a kind neighbour.”
She sniffed, but I thought I saw her mouth twitch with a hint of pleasure.
“Well, neighbours must look after each other, mustn’t they? I don’t normally
eat such rich food, but I can make an exception. Thank you for visiting. I’m
always happy to give advice if you need it.”
“I know. And, uh, thank you again, Mrs. Richardson.”
She stood, and I knew my audience was over. Faye followed me to the
door and shut it with a firm click behind me. I stood on the doorstep for
several minutes, trying to understand. Something had changed about our
street over the previous weeks. The alteration had been so gradual that I had
barely noticed, but now that I searched, proof was everywhere.
Mr. Korver across the road pretended to be watering his plants. He held
the hose in a slack hand, the stream falling on the driveway instead of the
garden, as he stared into the distance. The water had built up into a small pool
around the leaf-clogged gutter. If he noticed me staring at him, he didn’t
respond.
Penny window was empty. Its chair sat in its usual place,
framed by the curtains, but I hadn’t seen her in it in days.
A car drove past. As it neared the Marwick house, it curved away from
the building, its wheels bumping onto the sidewalk. The driver’s face
remained placid, as though he didn’t even realise what he’d just done.
I turned back to Ruby’s house, my steps sluggish now that I wasn’t
pushed by urgency. Our street had changed. I decided I liked it. I’d always
been a little bit odd, especially so since my mother’s death. It was nice to be
surrounded by like-minded individuals.
Ruby waited in the backyard, where I’d left her. I saw the same glassiness
in her eyes as Mrs. Richardson had worn. I went to her side and put my arm
around her.
“You were right. The house is protecting us.” I kept my voice low,
because I knew the subject deserved a reverential tone. “It’s looking after us.”
“I knew it would.” Her voice held a strange lilt, and a smile tugged at herlips. “I knew, as soon as I stepped into it, this would be my home. I would
care for it, and it would care for me.”
“It’s a good home.”
“A very good home.”
“Should we bury him now?”
“Yes, we’d better.
I DUG the tip of my shovel into the dirt, pushed on the handle, and tipped the
soil into the growing mound beside us. Flakes of white littered the dark
brown. Ruby worked beside me, her breathing laboured but her face serene.
We hadn’t even needed to discuss where to bury Raul. The answer was
obvious. That corner, under the tree, just seemed right .
We unearthed our first burial, the owl, early in our dig. Its feathers
collapsed off its decaying body. Tiny white worms writhed about as we
shifted the body out of the grave. It would need to be returned once Raul was
buried; that was a given. Once something was added to that corner grave, it
was supposed to stay there.
Ruby didn’t talk, and I was happy with that arrangement. I needed to do a
lot of thinking, but the thoughts that passed through my head were fleeting
and vague. Occasionally, I felt a niggling sensation that something wasn’t
right—that I should be concerned by the things I’d seen that morning—but
those feelings always fled as soon as I reached for them.
I dug until my back ached. Hundreds of bones came out of the grave. I
didn’t bother examining them like I had the first time we’d buried the owl.
They were dead, and dead things served no purpose except to be buried.
Ruby worked at my side. Perspiration glistened over her face. I thought
she shouldn’t be exerting herself so much when she was pregnant, but the
lazy fogginess washed that idea away within seconds. If Ruby was concerned
for her unborn child, she didn’t let it slow her.