The Door in the Forest Read Online Free

nose of her car poking out of the garage. When they reached it, Bridey was too out of breath to speak. She opened the car door and had Daniel brace her elbow as she lifted her leg onto the running board. Once there, she turned and positioned herself, then let her body fall backward onto the seat.
    Her left leg didn’t quite make it.
    “My foot, if you don’t mind, Daniel,” she said.
    The boy knelt, got a good grip, and hoisted her foot up and in.
    She winced. “Thank you, Daniel,” she said. “You’re a good boy. Always were.”
    She turned the key in the ignition.
Cheh-cheh-cheh-cheh-cheh
. The engine rumbled, then coughed and died.
    Cheh-cheh-cheh-cheh-cheh-cheh-cheh-cheh-cheh-cheh
.
    “How about a push?” she said. Bridey made a habit of parking the car facing out, as it often needed a push to get going.
    Daniel was usually the one to do the pushing. That wasn’t a problem. The car wasn’t all that heavy, just a black metal box with wood spoke wheels and narrow tires. But pushing the car with Grandma Byrdsong in it
was
a problem. By the time the engine stuttered into life, he was itching with sweat. He ran alongside, hopped in, and pulled the squealing door shut.
    As a driver, Bridey had a way of drifting to the right, but they made the trip without incident or accident, although they left a number of terrified chickens in their wake.
    Gwen was waiting at the door. “Bridey, hello! Come in. Are these for us? Wonderful!” She took the tomatoes and led the way to the kitchen. “She won’t eat,” she said, keeping her voice low. “And she’s not speaking. I’m not sure she can.”
    “Really? Last time I saw her, she was babbling nonstop.”
    “The last time you saw her, she was six years old!”
    Bridey shook her head wonderingly. “Imagine!”
    They found the girl on a stool at the kitchen table, her plate of chicken and candied sweet potatoes untouched. With her blank expression and filthy red-checked dress, she had the look of a dried-out field flower someone had carelessly stuck in a vase. The truth was, her grandmother barely recognized her. This was no six-year-old. Closer to thirteen.
    “I warmed up what we had last night,” said Gwen.
    “I’m sure it’s fine.” Bridey turned to the girl. “Emily,” shesaid, smiling. The smile deepened as she took her in. “Emily, Emily.”
    The girl looked at her blankly.
    “I’ve been trying to get her to eat for an hour.”
    Bridey laid a hand on Gwen’s shoulder. “Why don’t you leave us for a bit? See what I can do.”
    Gwen nodded.
    “And could you shut the door?”
    Mrs. Crowley blushed, but did as she was told.
    “What’s happening, Mom?” said Wesley, bouncing downstairs with a fat library book under his arm. It was one of his favorites, called
Now You See It
, about optical illusions.
    She put a finger to her lips. “Grandma Byrdsong’s here.”
    “Oh.” This was a fact of no interest to a ten-year-old. He kept going, grabbing two apples from the barrel by the door, one for himself, one for the first horse he met.
    Daniel and his mother went out back to pick some mint. When they returned, the kitchen door was still closed.
    Daniel went up to it and listened. “She’s singing!”
    “Who’s singing?”
    “Grandma Byrdsong. Listen.”
    Gwen went over, but just then the door swung open. The old woman filled it completely. “Do you happen to have any jam?” she said.
    “I think so.” Gwen went to open the cupboard, but then stopped, seeing the girl tearing hunks of bread with her teeth as if ripping the heart out of an enemy. Except for some chicken bones, her plate was clean.
    “The jam?” Bridey prompted.
    Gwen found the jar of preserves. “Have you gotten her to speak?”
    “We … communicate,” she said. “Haven’t gotten around to actual words yet.”
    “I’m sure you will.”
    “I know we will.” The women watched as Emily wolfed the bread and jam and then washed it down with milk. “Well,” said Bridey