about it. And the mountains were full of watchful spirits—big, coiled
Uktenas
who hid in the deep pools of the rivers, trouble-making elves and tricky witches who would pounce if they learned how powerful Jake and Eleanore were.
The world of the people was turning upside down, Granny explained. There were strangers on the high ridges outside town now, strangers who put gates on the roads to their fine new houses, strangers who cut down the forest and planted more grass than a million cows could eat, strangers who played games like golf and tennis, which they didn’t want to share with anyone else, strangers who bought the old buildings in town and filled them with beautiful, useless things they could sell only among themselves.
The scariest thing was, the world outside the mountains was in just as much of a mess, Granny said. Hard as it was for her to believe, shows about sex, dope, and naked people were going on up in New York, right on the same street where Grandpa Raincrow had taken her to see
Annie Get Your Gun
. More than 30,000 soldiers weredead over in Vietnam for no good reason Granny could figure. The space people were getting ready to send men to the moon—who could know what horrible evil might come from meddling with the moon?
And a bunch of fools had added division playoffs to baseball.
Over smoky campfires Granny told them all her stories and gave them all her secret warnings, and they listened, hypnotized. Everybody loved Granny, and she’d lived a long, long time without anyone noticing her extra part. As long as Granny was okay, they would be okay too.
Jake decided odd people had to stick together, and look out for each other.
Another year passed, and Carl’s grim silences began to match Samantha’s innocent ones. Desperation made Frannie forget her vow about not seeking unorthodox help.
Madame Maria was a transplanted Italian, the wife of a German bureaucrat who worked in the mayor’s office, and she gave psychic readings every Wednesday afternoon in her small, cluttered house on a back street where the windows were so close to the sidewalk that the cats who lounged in the flower boxes flicked their paws at the hair of unsuspecting visitors.
One of the cats had pulled a clump of hair loose from Frannie’s long braid, and Frannie toyed with the hair nervously with one hand while the small, sparrowlike Madame Maria gripped her other hand. Madame’s little living room was as pretty as a dollhouse; Madame looked like a faded porcelain figurine, with rigidly permed blue-gray hair even her cats couldn’t destroy.
“You have a problem,” Madame said in a guttural, soothing accent—English overlaid with Italian and German. “You have come to see Madame Maria because you need help.”
“It’s my daughter,” Frannie said, forgetting her hair and letting her hand drop wearily to the table betweenthem. “She’s almost three years old, but she’s never spoken a word. We’ve taken her to doctors. They can’t find anything wrong with her.”
“Ah, your daughter. I suspected. I feel your … fear. And your guilt. You wonder if you caused her silence, some way.”
Frannie leaned forward eagerly. “Yes. God, yes. She was born at home. I should have gone to the hospital, but I believe in natural childbirth. My husband was away, and I didn’t tell him what I intended to do. I hired a midwife, and I almost died. I didn’t tell my husband the truth for a long time—I prayed our daughter was all right, but when she didn’t start talking …” Frannie swallowed hard and looked away.
Madame stroked her hand. “You have a strong interest in the spiritual.”
“Yes, I do! I had four miscarriages before Samantha—that’s my daughter—”
“I saw a name beginning in S.”
“That’s her—yes. Before Samantha, I lost four babies. No conventional doctors could do a thing to help me. I was so afraid. I was ready to try anything. But I’m afraid I hurt my little girl.”
“Perhaps
Uktenas
who hid in the deep pools of the rivers, trouble-making elves and tricky witches who would pounce if they learned how powerful Jake and Eleanore were.
The world of the people was turning upside down, Granny explained. There were strangers on the high ridges outside town now, strangers who put gates on the roads to their fine new houses, strangers who cut down the forest and planted more grass than a million cows could eat, strangers who played games like golf and tennis, which they didn’t want to share with anyone else, strangers who bought the old buildings in town and filled them with beautiful, useless things they could sell only among themselves.
The scariest thing was, the world outside the mountains was in just as much of a mess, Granny said. Hard as it was for her to believe, shows about sex, dope, and naked people were going on up in New York, right on the same street where Grandpa Raincrow had taken her to see
Annie Get Your Gun
. More than 30,000 soldiers weredead over in Vietnam for no good reason Granny could figure. The space people were getting ready to send men to the moon—who could know what horrible evil might come from meddling with the moon?
And a bunch of fools had added division playoffs to baseball.
Over smoky campfires Granny told them all her stories and gave them all her secret warnings, and they listened, hypnotized. Everybody loved Granny, and she’d lived a long, long time without anyone noticing her extra part. As long as Granny was okay, they would be okay too.
Jake decided odd people had to stick together, and look out for each other.
Another year passed, and Carl’s grim silences began to match Samantha’s innocent ones. Desperation made Frannie forget her vow about not seeking unorthodox help.
Madame Maria was a transplanted Italian, the wife of a German bureaucrat who worked in the mayor’s office, and she gave psychic readings every Wednesday afternoon in her small, cluttered house on a back street where the windows were so close to the sidewalk that the cats who lounged in the flower boxes flicked their paws at the hair of unsuspecting visitors.
One of the cats had pulled a clump of hair loose from Frannie’s long braid, and Frannie toyed with the hair nervously with one hand while the small, sparrowlike Madame Maria gripped her other hand. Madame’s little living room was as pretty as a dollhouse; Madame looked like a faded porcelain figurine, with rigidly permed blue-gray hair even her cats couldn’t destroy.
“You have a problem,” Madame said in a guttural, soothing accent—English overlaid with Italian and German. “You have come to see Madame Maria because you need help.”
“It’s my daughter,” Frannie said, forgetting her hair and letting her hand drop wearily to the table betweenthem. “She’s almost three years old, but she’s never spoken a word. We’ve taken her to doctors. They can’t find anything wrong with her.”
“Ah, your daughter. I suspected. I feel your … fear. And your guilt. You wonder if you caused her silence, some way.”
Frannie leaned forward eagerly. “Yes. God, yes. She was born at home. I should have gone to the hospital, but I believe in natural childbirth. My husband was away, and I didn’t tell him what I intended to do. I hired a midwife, and I almost died. I didn’t tell my husband the truth for a long time—I prayed our daughter was all right, but when she didn’t start talking …” Frannie swallowed hard and looked away.
Madame stroked her hand. “You have a strong interest in the spiritual.”
“Yes, I do! I had four miscarriages before Samantha—that’s my daughter—”
“I saw a name beginning in S.”
“That’s her—yes. Before Samantha, I lost four babies. No conventional doctors could do a thing to help me. I was so afraid. I was ready to try anything. But I’m afraid I hurt my little girl.”
“Perhaps
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