Martha felt her shoulders jerk in an involuntary shiver. She turned quickly to Ivy.
But Ivy was gone. Not really, but she might as well have been. She was standing perfectly still staring at the old house. There was a kind of blur about her, as if she had moved to a distance that had nothing to do with space.
“Ivy?” Martha said.
Ivy took a deep slow breath and turned to Martha smiling. “Let’s go there,” she said.
“Do you think we ought to?”
Ivy’s only answer was to take Josie’s hand and lead the way.
It had been a large and beautiful house, and it had burned a very long time before. The loose ashes had long since weathered away, and the fire’s handiwork could only be seen on the charred edges of the walls, which rose in places several feet above the ground. Grass grew where floors had once been and a deep weed-grown pit marked the site of a large basement.
Martha and Ivy walked slowly all around the ruin. Josie ran ahead of them chattering away as usual, but Ivy was strangely quiet. They stopped, at last, near where some wide stone steps led up to nothing and sat down on the dry grass. Beside them was the blackened stump of what must have been a very large tree. Finally Ivy said, “It’s too quiet. Have you noticed?”
“Too quiet?” Martha asked. She listened and the silence was solid, like a wall.
“We ought to be able to hear the freeway here, at least a little. It’s not that far away.”
It was then that Martha noticed how the shadows of the ruined walls reached in jagged black fingers almost to where they were sitting. It was getting very late. “It’s getting awfully late,” she said. “Maybe we ought to—”
“Shhh!” Ivy said. “I’m listening.”
Martha listened too, until she began to feel she couldn’t stand it a moment longer. Then she got up and began to wander around. At the edge of the dead garden she sat down on an old stone bench and looked back. Josie was running from place to place, stopping now and then to talk as if someone were standing right beside her—but that was something Josie often did. Ivy was still sitting very still, with her face turned toward the burned house.
Martha was beginning to feel a little desperate about getting away, when suddenly her foot, scuffling in the dirt in front of the bench, turned up something that had been lying buried in the soft dark soil. When she wiped it off, she found it was an amber-colored translucent stone, shaped in an almost perfect oval.
“Look! Look!” she screamed. “I’ve found the Golden Eye.”
A few minutes later as Martha and Ivy were boosting Josie back over the iron fence, Ivy said, “As soon as we get the sharls stopped, we’ve got to come back here.” She turned back up toward the house, invisible now behind the trees, and said it again. “We’re going to come back.”
And Martha admitted to herself that they probably would.
13
M ARTHA HAD LEFT THE ruined house that first day not at all sure she ever wanted to go back. What she didn’t at all suspect was that she herself would be the first one to urge that they return.
It happened because Martha’s mother had made plans to take both her daughters to the city to an afternoon performance of the ballet. Cath, who was a Sophomore in high school that year, was still taking ballet; but she was beginning to complain that the lessons were taking up too much of her time. And it turned out that that particular Saturday afternoon she had no time at all. Pretty much at the last moment she told her mother that there just wasn’t any way that she could fit the matinee into her schedule. And so Mrs. Abbott asked Martha if she would like to bring a friend. Mrs. Abbott suggested that since Kelly Peters was also a ballet student, she might be delighted to see the performance. Martha was pretty sure that Kelly wouldn’t be delighted to go anywhere with her, but at her mother’s insistence she called to find out. Kelly’s mother answered, and she
But Ivy was gone. Not really, but she might as well have been. She was standing perfectly still staring at the old house. There was a kind of blur about her, as if she had moved to a distance that had nothing to do with space.
“Ivy?” Martha said.
Ivy took a deep slow breath and turned to Martha smiling. “Let’s go there,” she said.
“Do you think we ought to?”
Ivy’s only answer was to take Josie’s hand and lead the way.
It had been a large and beautiful house, and it had burned a very long time before. The loose ashes had long since weathered away, and the fire’s handiwork could only be seen on the charred edges of the walls, which rose in places several feet above the ground. Grass grew where floors had once been and a deep weed-grown pit marked the site of a large basement.
Martha and Ivy walked slowly all around the ruin. Josie ran ahead of them chattering away as usual, but Ivy was strangely quiet. They stopped, at last, near where some wide stone steps led up to nothing and sat down on the dry grass. Beside them was the blackened stump of what must have been a very large tree. Finally Ivy said, “It’s too quiet. Have you noticed?”
“Too quiet?” Martha asked. She listened and the silence was solid, like a wall.
“We ought to be able to hear the freeway here, at least a little. It’s not that far away.”
It was then that Martha noticed how the shadows of the ruined walls reached in jagged black fingers almost to where they were sitting. It was getting very late. “It’s getting awfully late,” she said. “Maybe we ought to—”
“Shhh!” Ivy said. “I’m listening.”
Martha listened too, until she began to feel she couldn’t stand it a moment longer. Then she got up and began to wander around. At the edge of the dead garden she sat down on an old stone bench and looked back. Josie was running from place to place, stopping now and then to talk as if someone were standing right beside her—but that was something Josie often did. Ivy was still sitting very still, with her face turned toward the burned house.
Martha was beginning to feel a little desperate about getting away, when suddenly her foot, scuffling in the dirt in front of the bench, turned up something that had been lying buried in the soft dark soil. When she wiped it off, she found it was an amber-colored translucent stone, shaped in an almost perfect oval.
“Look! Look!” she screamed. “I’ve found the Golden Eye.”
A few minutes later as Martha and Ivy were boosting Josie back over the iron fence, Ivy said, “As soon as we get the sharls stopped, we’ve got to come back here.” She turned back up toward the house, invisible now behind the trees, and said it again. “We’re going to come back.”
And Martha admitted to herself that they probably would.
13
M ARTHA HAD LEFT THE ruined house that first day not at all sure she ever wanted to go back. What she didn’t at all suspect was that she herself would be the first one to urge that they return.
It happened because Martha’s mother had made plans to take both her daughters to the city to an afternoon performance of the ballet. Cath, who was a Sophomore in high school that year, was still taking ballet; but she was beginning to complain that the lessons were taking up too much of her time. And it turned out that that particular Saturday afternoon she had no time at all. Pretty much at the last moment she told her mother that there just wasn’t any way that she could fit the matinee into her schedule. And so Mrs. Abbott asked Martha if she would like to bring a friend. Mrs. Abbott suggested that since Kelly Peters was also a ballet student, she might be delighted to see the performance. Martha was pretty sure that Kelly wouldn’t be delighted to go anywhere with her, but at her mother’s insistence she called to find out. Kelly’s mother answered, and she
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