And then, as the engine's drone drew ever nearer, he gave a last lunge against the restraining fence, and his shirt tore free. He dashed across the open space between the fence and his mother's house and dove behind a patch of bushes. A second later, the car-unrecognizable in the darkness-cruised slowly by the house, then down the driveway to the road. Only when it was on the highway did its lights go on.
Michael waited until the car was well out of sight before he emerged from the bushes, breathing hard, his torn shirt damp with sweat. Shadow skittered nervously at his feet. He located his bike, but instead of mounting it, he wheeled it along the driveway, then across the road. He paused there for several more minutes, thinking hard. What was he going to tell his mother? How could he explain his torn shirt?
And then Nathaniel's words came back to him.
"Never tell them the truth."
"If you tell them the truth, you will die."
"Tell them what they want to hear."
Even as fear began to grip him, an idea began to take shape in his mind.
"Laura lost her baby?" Janet asked, the words echoing oddly in the Halls' kitchen. "What are you talking about?"
"She miscarried," Amos Hall replied. He peeled off his jacket and hung it on the hook by the back door, then poured himself a cup of coffee from the ever-present pot on the stove. When he finally sat down in his usual position at the kitchen table, Janet stared at him dazedly. Though his expression was impassive, she could see the pain in his eyes. Then, as if sensing the thought that had immediately formed in her mind, he said, "It didn't have, anything to do with her overworking this weekend. The- the fetus was malformed, and Dr. Potter said the baby would have been born dead even if Laura'd carried it to term."
Janet released the breath she'd been unconsciously holding, and sank back in her chair. "But why didn't you tell me what was happening?" she asked. "Why that story about the grange? I'd have gone with you. Anna and I both would have." Her eyes shifted to her mother-in-law for confirmation, but Anna only sat motionless in her chair, her hands folded in her lap, her eyes blank. Janet turned helplessly back to Amos.
"We thought it would be better this way," he said. "We were afraid something like this might happen, and we decided it would be better if you weren't there." His eyes moved toward Janet's torso, and Janet's fingers moved instinctively to touch her abdomen.
"I-I don't understand…"
"This isn't the first child Laura's lost," Amos told her. "She-well, she doesn't have children easily."
"But I should have been there," Janet insisted. "After all she's done for me, the least I could have done was be there."
"No," Anna said, sighing deeply. Janet turned to look at her. A sad, apologetic smile reflected the look in Anna's eyes. "Laura wouldn't have wanted you there," she said. "She wouldn't have wanted either of us there. For me-you know why it would have been painful for me. And for you… well, you and Laura are about the same age, and she wouldn't want to frighten you. She wouldn't want you to go through the next few months worrying that what happened to her might happen to you."
"Me?" Janet asked, her bewilderment increasing. "Did she tell you that?"
Anna reached out and took Janet's hand. "She didn't need to. You've been through so much already, dear. And it's not just Laura, you know. We all worry about you. Tonight, Amos decided the best thing to do was wait until it was all over, and hope we'd be able to tell you you had a new niece or nephew." The half smile left her face, and her eyes hardened as they flashed briefly toward her husband. "Things don't always work out the way we want them to," she said.
Oblivious to the look that had passed between Anna and Amos, Janet nodded her head. "It must have been terrible for her," she said at last. "Not even in the hospital, and with nobody there-"
"I was there," Amos Hall corrected her. "And Buck and Dr. Potter."
"I'm sorry," Janet said quickly, immediately contrite. "I didn't mean that. I just meant-"
"Don't worry, dear," Anna assured her. "I know exactly what you meant."
Again, Janet fell silent for a moment, but then she took a deep breath, as a thought struck her. "But what about Ryan? Wasn't he going out to the Simpsons' with Michael?"
Amos shook his head. "He was home all evening."
Janet's eyes darted to the clock on the wall. It was a little past midnight. "But look at the time! Where's Michael?"
"Probably still at the Simpsons'," Anna told her. "A foaling can take all night."
"But what if he's coming home? He's all by himself, and he's only eleven-"
"And he can take care of himself," Amos assured her. "He's like his father-he'll be all right. Just try to take it easy, Janet. Getting yourself into a state won't help."
It was then that they heard the first scream.
Michael had mounted the bike and ridden quickly back toward the Simpsons'. When he was halfway there, he picked the bicycle up and jammed it into the fence between the north side of the road and the field beyond. When the wheels were securely tangled in the wire, Michael climbed the fence and began walking across the field. In the distance, he could see the faint glow which he knew marked his grandparents' house. Sure of his bearings, he began running, stumbling in the darkness every few yards, pitching headlong into the fresh-turned soil. Each time he fell, Shadow was instantly next to him, nosing at him, snuffling and whining until Michael rose once more to his feet. By the time he reached the far side of the field, with his grandparents' house clearly visible, his hands and face were scratched and bleeding, and what was left of his clothing was covered with grime. He climbed carefully through the last fence and paused to catch his breath.
As his breathing slowly settled into an easy rhythm, he watched the house, but if there was any movement inside, he was too far away to see it. Still, even as he crossed the road to the end of the driveway, he was sure that his grandparents, as well as his mother, were waiting for him.
Twenty yards from the house, he gathered his energy together, and began running.
Running, and screaming. Shadow, as if picking up a cue, added his furious barking to the melee.
"Mother! Grandpa! Help! Help me!"
Still running at top speed, he dashed around the house and hurled himself up the steps of the back porch, his fists pounding on the door. "Help me! Mother, help me!" The door flew open, and Michael threw himself into his mother's arms.
Janet's arms closed tightly around her hysterical son, and she sank to her knees to gather him against Her. "What is it?" she asked when Michael's terrified screams finally stopped. "Michael, what happened?"
"My bike!" Michael wailed. "I was coming home, and all of a sudden there was a car behind me. I thought it was Mrs. Simpson, but it wasn't. It-it ran me right off the road."
"Where?" Janet asked. "Where did it happen?"
"Right near the Simpsons'. I hadn't even gotten to our house yet."
Her mind spinning, Janet's gaze drifted up to Amos Hall. He was on his feet now, staring at his grandson.
"Tell us exactly what happened."
They were at the kitchen table now, and Michael was sitting huddled close against his mother, his eyes fixed on the face of his grandfather, who finally reached out to pat his hand. Instinctively, Michael pulled his hand away, but the old man ignored the rebuff. "It's all right. You're safe now. Just try to tell us what happened."
"I was coming home from Eric's," Michael began, letting his voice quaver. "I was coming along the road, and I was looking at our place in the moonlight. And then I heard something. It was a car, and it was coming along the road behind me." He fell silent, as if the memory was too frightening to talk about.