The Vanishing Season by Jodi Lynn Anderson Page A

remembered her mom saying cardinals were the spirits of those we loved watching over us, though Maggie had never really lost anyone she loved. Maybe it was Pauline’s dad.
    The infamous VW Bus was parked in the driveway—it was old and rusty but painted a bright yellow. She could see the slogans “If Jesus is Inside me, I hope he likes Fajitas because that’s what he’s Getting!” and “Viva La Evolución!” painted across the side in purple. A vivid red devil was painted just behind the rearview mirror, hanging out with what looked like Bigfoot and the tooth fairy, and a slogan underneath that said “Scientists for Satan.”
    Liam answered the door in pajama pants and a button-down flannel shirt that hung half open, and Pauline lay draped on a thick rug in pajamas too, in front of the fire with a stick in her hand, roasting a marshmallow. Liam buttoned his shirt self-consciously while Maggie took in the house. It was full of handmade touches, like a cupola lined with copper above the living room and intricate woodwork around the windows.
    “Where’d you get that?” Maggie asked, pointing to a model ship hanging from a corner of the ceiling. She’d never seen anything quite like it.
    “I made it,” Liam said sheepishly, looking upward. He stood with his hand on the couch.
    “Liam can make everything. He built this house, pretty much,” Pauline said, from the rug, lifting up her legs into the air so that she was shaped like an L.
    Liam shrugged. “I helped. My dad and I remodeled it. It was kind of a shack before this.”
    They sat on the rug next to Pauline. “That must have taken forever,” Maggie said.
    “Four long years.” Liam reached out his hand to receive a graham cracker from Pauline.
    “S’mores for breakfast,” Pauline said blissfully. Liam stoked the fire.
    Maggie stared up at the ship, marveling at its tiny windows and little doors. How many hours had Liam spent working on it? There were other ships scattered about the house and carved wooden animals and rustic-looking furniture. Maggie loved everything about the place. It reminded her of where the elves lived in The Lord of the Rings .
    “Come meet my dad,” Liam said.
    He led her through a cozy, wood-paneled hall toward the back of the house. Walking behind him, she smelled cedar and fire smoke and maybe Liam’s soap. It was like she’d entered the Land of Men.
    He turned right, and she followed him through a door and out into an attached garage. Its shelves were stacked with saws and carving tools. A man sat hunched at a worktable against the wall to the right and didn’t look up to greet them.
    “Dad. This is Maggie, our new neighbor.”
    Mr. Witte was still for a moment, as if absorbed in his task, and then he swiveled in his seat and looked up. “Hello, Maggie, our new neighbor,” he said. He was bearded, and his eyes were blue and they twinkled. He looked like a Scandinavian villager in the 1800s. He wasn’t what she’d been expecting.
    “What are you working on?” she asked.
    “Well, see for yourself.” He had a dim hint of an accent.
    Maggie edged closer. It was a model ship. He’d carefully and painstakingly painted the hull with black-and-yellow stripes. The whole thing was so tiny and intricate, it boggled Maggie’s mind to think how it could have possibly been done.
    “That’s really nice, Mr. Witte.”
    Mr. Witte shrugged.
    “Not something teenage girls are interested in.”
    “No, it’s really interesting. It’s really cool.”
    “What are you interested in?” he asked, sizing her up.
    “Um, I like to read.”
    “Who’s your favorite author?” he asked abruptly, cutting her off.
    “Um.” Maggie felt nervous, as if she were on a job interview. She looked at Liam, who widened his eyes at her apologetically. “I like the Brontës. Um, I’m reading Moby Dick right now.”
    “Pah. Melville was a plagiarist.” He blew out through his lips and turned back to his work, unimpressed. “What about