It’s very sweet of you kids to want to visit your great-aunt,” Mom said, smiling into the rearview mirror at Jared and Simon. “I know she’s going to love the cookies you made.”
Outside the car window the trees streamed by, patches of yellow and red leaves between bare branches.
“They didn’t make them,” Mallory said. “All they did was arrange frozen dough on a pan.”
Jared kicked the back of her seat, hard.
“Hey,” Mallory said, turning around and trying to grab her brothers. Jared and Simon snickered. She couldn’t quite get them with her seat belt on.
“Well, that’s more than you did,” their mother said. “You are still grounded, young lady. All three of you have a week left.”
“I was at fencing practice,” Mallory said, slumping in her seat and rolling her eyes. Jared wasn’t sure, but it seemed like there was something odd about the way her ears got pink when she said it.
Jared absently touched his backpack, feeling the outline of the field guide within, safe and sound, wrapped in a towel. So long as he kept it with him, there was no way that Mallory could get rid of it and no way the faeries could take it. Besides, maybe Aunt Lucinda knew about the Guide. Maybe she was the one who’d locked it up in the false bottom of the chest for him to find. If so, maybe she could convince his brother and sister that it was important enough to keep.
The hospital where their great-aunt lived was huge. It looked more like a manor than an asylum, with massive, redbrick walls, dozens of windows, and a neatly mown lawn. A wide, white stone path edged in rust-and-gold mums led to an entranceway cut from stone. At least ten chimneys rose from the black roof.
“Wow, this place looks older than our house,” Simon said.
“Older,” said Mallory, “but not nearly as crappy.”
“Mallory!” their mother cautioned.
Gravel crunched under their tires as they pulled into the parking lot. Their mother chose a spot next to a battered, green car and turned off the engine.
“Does Aunt Lucy know we’re coming?” Simon asked.
“I called ahead,” said Mrs. Grace, opening the car door and reaching for her purse. “I don’t know how much they tell her, though, so don’t be disappointed if she’s not expecting us.”
“I bet we’re the first visitors she’s had in a long time,” Jared said.
His mother gave him a look. “First of all, that is not a nice thing to say, and second, why are you wearing your shirt inside out?”
Jared looked down and shrugged.
“Grandma visits, doesn’t she?” Mallory asked.
Their mother nodded. “She comes, but it’s hard for her. Lucy was more like a sister than a cousin. And then when she started to . . . deteriorate . . . Grandma was the one who had to take care of things.”
Jared wanted to ask what that meant, but something made him hesitate.
They walked through the wide, walnut doors of the institution. There was a desk in the vestibule, where a uniformed man was sitting, reading a newspaper. He looked up at them and reached for a tan phone.
“Sign in, please.” He nodded toward an open binder. “Who’re you here to see?”
“Lucinda Spiderwick.” Their mother bent over the table and wrote their names.
At the sound of the name the man scowled. Jared decided right then that he didn’t like this guy at all.
In a few minutes a nurse in a pink shirt with polka dots appeared. She led them through a maze of off-white hallways filled with stale air and the faint odor of iodine. They passed an empty room where a television flickered, and from somewhere nearby there was the sound of giddy laughter. Jared started to think of the asylums in movies and imagined wild-eyed people in straightjackets, biting at their bonds. He peered through the windowed doors they passed.
In one room a young man in a bathrobe giggled over an upside-down book, while in another a woman sobbed near a window.
Jared tried to avert his eyes from the next door, but he heard someone call, “My dancing partner is here!” Peering in, he saw a wild-haired man press his face against the window.
“Mr. Byrne!” The nurse stepped between Jared and the door.
“It’s all your fault,” the man said, showing yellow teeth.
“Are you okay?” Mallory asked.
Jared nodded, trying to pretend he wasn’t shaking.
“Does that happen often?” Mrs. Grace asked.
“No,” answered the nurse. “I’m very sorry. He’s usually very quiet.”
Before Jared could decide whether this visit was a good idea, the nurse stopped at a closed door, rapped twice, and opened it without waiting for a reply.
The room was small and the same not-quite-white color as the hallway. In the center of the room was a hospital bed with a metal headboard, and sitting up in it, with a comforter wrapped around her legs, was one of the oldest women Jared had ever seen. Her long hair was as white as sugar. Her skin was pale, too, almost transparent. Her back was hunched and twisted to one side. A metal stand by the side of her bed held a bag of clear liquid with a long tube that connected to the IV in her arm. But her eyes, when they focused on Jared, were bright and alert.
“Why don’t I shut that window, Miss S.?” asked the nurse, moving past a nightstand cluttered with antique photos and knick-knacks. “You’re going to catch a cold.”
“No!” Lucinda barked, and the nurse stopped mid-stride. Then in a gentler voice their great-aunt continued. “Leave it be. I need fresh air.”
“Hello, Aunt Lucy,” Mom said hesitantly. “Do you remember me? I’m Helen.”
The old lady nodded slightly, appearing to regain her composure. “Of course. Melvina’s daughter. Goodness. You’re quite a bit older than I remembered.”
Jared noticed that his mother looked less than pleased by that observation.
“These are my sons, Jared and Simon,” she said. “And this is my daughter, Mallory. We’ve been staying in your house and the children wanted to meet you.”
Aunt Lucy frowned. “The house? It is not safe for you to stay at the house.”
“We’ve had people in to make repairs,” Mom said. “And look, the children brought some cookies.”
“Lovely.” The old woman looked at the plate as though it were piled with cockroaches.
Jared, Simon, and Mallory exchanged glances.
The nurse snorted. “Nothing you can do,” the nurse said to Mrs. Grace, not seeming to care that Aunt Lucy could hear her. “She won’t eat anything while we’re watching.”
Aunt Lucy narrowed her eyes. “I am not deaf, you know.”
“You won’t try one?” Mom asked, uncovering the sugar cookies and holding the platter out to Aunt Lucinda.
“I’m afraid not,” said the old woman. “I find that I am quite content.”
