CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Sarah Jane

t was a funny thing about that world on the other side of the Apple Tree Man’s door. You’d think that Aunt Lillian and I would be overwhelmed when we went through to the Otherworld, but it didn’t happen that way.

Sure, the place was a shock to our senses. Colors were more intense… oh, what am I saying? Everything was more intense. The sharp colors, the crisp air we breathed, the lush texture of the grass, trilling birdsong drifting down from the trees, and an endless azure-blue sky above. But I remembered what the Apple Tree Man had told us about coming to this place—how we’d never want to leave, and I didn’t feel that way at all.

When I said as much, the Apple Tree Man gave me a funny look. I thought maybe I’d offended him, so I tried to explain.

“When I was younger,” I said, “we moved all the time, from one trailer park to another. It got so I never felt like I fit in, not anywhere we lived. I’m not blaming Mama and Daddy—that’s just the way it was. Leastwise, it was until we moved to Granny Burrell’s farm. Now I’ve lived there for pretty much as long as I’ve lived in all those other places put together, and you know what? I really like it.

“I like my familiar woods, watching the changes settle on them, season after season. I don’t feel like a visitor anymore. I’m a neighbor now. I belong. And pretty as this place is, I don’t belong here. I feel it like a buzz just under my skin. It’s saying, ‘You’ve got another home.’ ”

“You could’ve took the words right out of my mouth,” Aunt Lillian said. “I remember how scared I was of those woods around the homestead when I first came to live with my aunt Em. But that feeling went away pretty quick and I’ve never wanted to leave them since. Even Paradise is going to seem wanting after living in those hills of ours.”

The Apple Tree Man shook his head as he looked from her to me.

“I guess a body’s never too old to be surprised,” he said, “but I have to tell you, I had no idea you were so strong.”

“Strong?” I said.

He nodded. “To resist the enchantments of this place so effortlessly.”

“Makes you think, doesn’t it?” Aunt Lillian said. “ ’Bout wasted years and all.”

He nodded again, slower this time. I guess it finally hit him that he didn’t have to keep Aunt Lillian at a distance—didn’t have to, never had to. He got this hangdog look in his eyes that made me want to tell a joke or something, just to cheer him up.

“I just didn’t know,” he said.

“It’s the red hair that makes them strong, Applejack,” a voice said from above. “Why else do you think we cherish it so?”