Miranda stood in the doorway of her house and scanned the hillside. She twisted her hands together. Something must have happened to keep the people away. She had seen no one for three days—not since the night they had come to the Old Farm. The night she had scared Asia so badly.
She adjusted her bonnet, shut the door carefully behind her and set off up the hill to the new house. Her apprehension grew when she passed the dog’s grave with the pale wooden cross. The flowers on the grave had wilted and died. What could have happened to make everyone forget about the old dog?
Miranda faltered when she got to the log bridge. She didn’t have the courage to step foot on it today. But she could see enough from where she was standing. Two strange cars were parked beside the house, one blue, and one small and bright red and unlike anything she had ever seen at Cold Creek. She spotted Maddy in her rocking chair on the porch, her head nodded forward as if she were asleep. She couldn’t remember ever seeing Maddy sleep in the middle of the afternoon. Her arthritis must be acting up, she thought with a pang of sympathy.
The screen door opened, and a tall gray-haired woman she had never seen before came out, carrying a tray with a teapot and mugs. The woman said something and set the tray down on a small table. Maddy sat up and the woman poured the tea. Then she settled into the old armchair beside Maddy.
The two women looked as if they were comfortable with each other. They were enjoying the tea in a companionable way. Miranda’s own loneliness welled up inside her. She waited to see if Asia would appear, but she didn’t. Finally she turned and started on the long walk back to the Old Farm. She understood now why Maddy and Asia’s routine had changed, why she hadn’t seen them for days. It was because of the stranger, the tall woman with the gray hair.
It was a hot afternoon without a breath of wind, but the long grass ahead of Miranda rippled. “Montgomery, is that you?” she called. “Come out, you bad boy. Come out and I’ll carry you home.”
She waited for the answering meow, for her cat to spring out of the grass and wrap himself around her legs, but everything was silent. She frowned. A coyote had been hanging around. She had spotted it several times, but she didn’t think this was a coyote.
Her chest felt queer, as if it were tightening around her heart. She walked faster and then broke into a run, following the swaying grass. She saw a flash of blue, a hair ribbon in the sun. Miranda’s head suddenly ached, and her thoughts spun out of control. She stumbled through the grass. She had a glimpse of a blue pinafore, sun shining on glossy brown hair. “Daisy, wait! Don’t run away!” she cried.
The grass swirled. Tiny boots pounded on the hard dry ground.
“Stop, Daisy! Stop!”
The grass parted. The tiny elf-like girl peering at her through the yellow green stalks was Beatrice, not Daisy.
Beatrice’s small body was shaking with ragged sobs. Tears streaked down her scarlet cheeks, leaving two smudgy trails. “Papa! Where is my Papa?” she cried.
Miranda tried to speak, but her face was frozen and her lips wouldn’t move. She reached for Beatrice, but the little girl had vanished. Miranda was alone again, the meadow a motionless sea of golden grass. She sank onto her knees and tried to pull her frantic thoughts together. It must be the strain of the last few days, she thought wildly. Her mind was playing tricks.
After a long time, she stood up and continued across the meadow. When she reached the Old Farm, the scent of something sweet floated through the air. It was the lavender that grew almost wild in her garden beside the porch. She stooped down and picked a few purple stalks. She pressed them to her face, trying to steady her nerves.
Then she crumpled them and dropped them into the grass.“Papa! Where is my Papa!” Beatrice had cried.
Miranda’s head pounded. She wiped her eyes. She had to get inside her house, right away. The smell of lavender was sickening.