Page 113 of Mazywood

Behind her, Scout slithered across the fallen pine needles. Following her.

“Scout—no,” she said, voice trembling with her heartbreak. “I can’t bring you with me. You have to stay here. Do you understand?”

Scout understood. He had always understood her. But when Mazelle began walking again, Scout followed on her heels, moving in his odd locomotion that made no more sense than his appearance from the Wishing Pool. Scout had the bat arms and stubby legs, but he glided more than he walked.

“Scout, no!” Mazelle said, her voice cracking into sobs again. “I can’t bring you with me. How would I explain you? I don’t have anywhere to hide you.”

Scout whined, revealing razor-sharp teeth when he opened his long mouth. His teeth were much sharper than before, but the whine was the same one she remembered from the best years of her life. And she did have somewhere she could hide Scout, didn’t she? She had bought property on secluded Mount Shasta to build her lodge for herself and her show business friends, and most of the time it sat empty because she was still based in L.A. Scout could roam near the lodge while she was gone… couldn’t he? She had conjured him, promising to take care of him forever. Who knew what might happen if she scorned her wish and tried to leave Scout behind?

Mazelle peeled off her sweater, which was damp with perspiration. Her clothes felt soaked in Gracetown’s summer heat. Mosquitoes landed on her bare arms, ready to feast, but she ignored them as she knelt to face Scout.

Ugh. She could barely stomach looking at him, so she focused on his adoring eyes.

“If I take you with me… you have to hide,” she said. “You can’t make a sound, day or night, until we get where we’re going. No one else can see you, hear?”

Scout shivered, which she thought might be the same as wagging his tail. Mazelle had a lot to learn about Scout in his new form, but his bright eyes looked happy.

“All right, then,” Mazelle said. “Come on.”

Mazelle wrapped Scout up in her sweater, which was just big enough to cover him. She knotted the sleeves around him to make sure he would stay in place. She bundled him like a baby, and he curled against her like a baby too.

Then Mazelle carried Scout back toward her waiting car.

Mazelle was sopping from sweat by the time she emerged from the other side of the PECANS sign with her precious load.

Her car was still on the road. But the driver’s seat was empty, and no one else was in sight. The car windows wide-open. Where was everyone?

Mazelle clutched her bundle more tightly and ran in panic until she saw the top of Ricky’s head poke up from the back seat.

Ricky grinned when he saw her. “Mother!” he called through his open window.

She ran up to his window, angling her bundle away from his sight. Sadie was awake now, gnawing on graham crackers Grady must have fed them. She was on a blanket in her toddler’s car bed on the back seat. “Where’s Mr. Grady?”

“What’s that?” Ricky said, trying to peer out to see her bundle.

“Listen to me—where’s Mr. Grady?”

Ricky pointed back toward the woods. “Lookin’ for you.”

Dammit. Scout squirmed, maybe because she was clutching him too tightly.

Mazelle gestured toward the ignition. “Hand me those keys, Ricky. Hurry up.”

Ricky was delighted to have permission to touch the car keys, which fascinated him. He scooted over the seat to pull them from the ignition, and after a few tugs he tumbled back over. This boy’s constant motion gave Mazelle headaches, but she was glad he was quick.

“Just stay in the car,” she said.

She took the keys to the car’s large trunk and opened it. She was relieved to set Scout down—he must have weighed at least fifteen pounds—but the wave of heat from the trunk told her she couldn’t leave him baking in there for more than a few minutes. Scout wriggled, freeing his snout from the sweater’s folds. He snuffled, breathing in rasps.

“I know, boy…” Mazelle whispered. “I’m sorry.”

She spotted the large woven picnic basket that Brother’s wife, Pat, had stuffed with canned peaches and marmalades for the ride home. She poured out the jars and emptied the basket. She lifted Scout inside the sweater and nestled him inside the basket. She wouldn’t let it out of her sight. She would keep it near her feet.

“Remember what I said—not a sound,” Mazelle said, and closed the basket lid.

She had the basket on her arm and had just closed the trunk when Grady appeared so suddenly behind her that she let out a small yelp. Scout rustled inside the basket.

“Grady!” Mazelle said. “You left my children alone?”