Chapter 44
Ruthie
Ruthie woke up to the familiar and comforting sounds of her mother making breakfast downstairs. There was the smell of coffee, bacon, and cinnamon rolls. She dragged herself out of bed and went down to the kitchen.
“Good morning,” Mom said, voice chipper. Ruthie looked at her mother and around at the kitchen, and just then, for that one moment, she let herself imagine that everything that had happened these last few days had been a bad dream.
Then her mother broke the spell.
“Ruthie,” she said, “I know you’ve had a lot to take in, and I just want you to know that if you have any questions, if there’s anything you’d like me to explain further, I’m here.”
“Thanks,” Ruthie said, helping herself to coffee.
“You know, your father and I saw you as our greatest gift. We couldn’t have loved you more, and it never mattered that you weren’t our biological child.”
Ruthie nodded, felt her face grow pink.
“I’m sorry for keeping the truth from you. And even sorrier that you had to find out everything the way you did.”
Ruthie wasn’t sure what to say.
“And now that you know the whole story, there’s something I need you to think about.
I know how much going away to college means to you, and if your mind is set, we’ll find a way to make it happen.
But I’m not getting any younger. And someone needs to look after Gertie when I’m not able to anymore.
Honestly, I could even use some help with it now—it’s a big responsibility for just one person, and with your father gone, I’m afraid I haven’t been able to give her the attention she needs.
She really likes to have someone with her. She gets … lonely.”
Her mother turned back to the stove, flipped the bacon, opened the oven door to check the cinnamon rolls, then wiped her hands on her apron and went on.
“Gertie has always had some kind of … affinity for that closet in my bedroom. When I didn’t come to the cave often enough for her liking, I would find her in the closet.
I was so afraid that one of these days she was bound to encounter one of you girls.
I finally sealed it shut. Just to discourage her. But that only made her angry.
“When she came for me the other night, there was a rage, a desperation in her eyes that I had not seen before; she thought I had turned my back on her. I had to go with her—I had no choice. I was afraid of what she might do if I refused, afraid she might hurt you or your sister.”
Alice took the coffeepot and moved to top up Ruthie’s coffee, but Ruthie hadn’t yet taken a sip. She refilled her own mug instead, stirred in plenty of milk and sugar.
“But this time Gertie didn’t want to let me go.
She kept me tied up to the chair, wanted me to tell her stories.
She’s very … strong. And when she heard all of you enter the cave, she reinforced my bonds, and even gagged me so I couldn’t call out to warn you.
” Her mother took a long, slow sip of coffee and looked out the window toward the hill.
“So you do understand, don’t you? We’ve got to work hard, do our best to keep things like what happened with Willa Luce from happening again. What happened to Willa—it was because I failed to do my job. But if I had your help, things could be different.”
Ruthie looked up at her mother, who gave her face a gentle, loving stroke.
“Someone needs to keep the secrets of our hill safe; to keep everyone in town safe. I just want you to think about it, that’s all.”
Fawn stumbled into the kitchen, wearing pink footed pajamas and carrying Mimi.
“Now, who’s ready for cinnamon buns?” Mom asked cheerfully, opening the oven.
After breakfast, the girls sneaked into their mom’s bedroom while she was downstairs doing the dishes.
“Is it true?” Fawn asked once they were alone, crouching over the secret hole in the floor. “That we’re not really even sisters?” She looked down into the hiding place.
Ruthie reached for Fawn, turned her face up so that their eyes were locked. “You are my sister, Fawn. You’ll always be my sister. Nothing can change that.”
Fawn smiled, and Ruthie leaned over and kissed her forehead.
They gathered all of the diary pages, Tom’s and Bridget’s wallets, and the gun. All of it went into Fawn’s backpack, to be carried out to the well.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Fawn asked again. “Mom is going to be really mad when she finds out we took all this.”
Ruthie nodded. “It’ll be okay. It’s what we need to do.
Mom wasn’t ever able to get rid of any of this—she felt too guilty or whatever, and I do understand that, but look at all the trouble it caused.
As long as these papers are still around, then people will be willing to do crazy things to get them.
And as long as the instructions exist, sleepers can still be made. ”
Fawn gave Ruthie a puzzled look. “So the monsters are real.”
Ruthie took in a breath. “Yeah,” she said. “But they can’t help what they are. The truth is, I feel bad for Gertie. She didn’t ask for any of this.”
The woods were still as the girls walked up the hill to search for the old well.
They made their way through the orchard, past the place where Ruthie had found their father clutching his ax.
Up they climbed, the trail growing steeper as they approached the Devil’s Hand.
Rocks poked out from under the fresh carpet of snow—some tall and jagged, some as smooth and round as giant eggs.
Once they got to the top, they stopped beneath the five giant finger rocks.
Ruthie looked for the opening to the cave, but the stone had been pulled back into place and was buried in a fresh drift of snow.
There was no birdsong, no sign of life. Only the occasional sound of clumps of snow sliding off branches and hitting the ground.
When they finally discovered the old well, to the north of the Devil’s Hand, they were both out of breath, but pleased to have found it at last.
“This is where Gertie died?” Fawn asked, her breath coming out in cloudy puffs. Mimi the doll was clutched tight in her arms.
Ruthie nodded and looked down into the well—a circle of field-stone surrounding a big dark hole that seemed to go down forever.
She tried to imagine falling down it, looking up at the bright circle of daylight, seeing it get farther and farther away, until it was like some distant moon.
The girls stood, bundled in winter coats, snowshoes strapped to their feet.
The sun had just come up over the hill, and they could see its hazy glow through the trees.
The forest around them was blanketed in white, absolutely still.
Not even the wind stirred. It felt as if the whole world were sleeping and they were the only two awake.
“Then this seems right,” Fawn said. She slipped off the small backpack she’d been carrying, opened it up, pulled out the journal pages, and handed them over.
“I think you should be the one to do it,” she said, seeming suddenly like a much older girl, a wise old lady trapped in a child’s body. “You’re related to her.”
Ruthie took the pages in her hands; the ink was faded, the paper stained and wrinkled, splattered with Candace’s blood. There, in slanted cursive, were her distant aunt’s words. The instructions for creating sleepers she’d copied from Auntie’s letter.
She traced the sentences with her finger, thinking that her own birth parents, Tom and Bridget, once held these in their hands, believing they were going to change the world, get rich, make a better life for their daughter.
Then there were the pages Gary found: Auntie’s letter to Sara, the map she had drawn, more notes from Sara.
It was all there—Sara’s story, Auntie’s story. Ruthie’s own story, even.
The story of a little girl named Gertie who died.
Whose mother loved her too much to let her go.
So she brought her back.
Only the world she came back to wasn’t the same.
She wasn’t the same.
Ruthie dropped the papers into the well one at a time, watching them flutter like pale, broken butterflies, like snowflakes, down, down, down, until she couldn’t see them anymore.
“This means no more can be made, right?” Fawn asked.
“Yeah,” Ruthie said, watching the last page fall.
She knew, in that moment, what she would do.
She would stay in West Hall and help her mother as guardian of the hill, keeper of its secrets.
She smiled as she thought of it, how it seemed so simple really, like something that was meant to be; like destiny, after all.
Then, sensing movement, Ruthie turned just in time to catch a glimpse of a little girl in ragged clothes with a pale face peeking out from behind a tree.
She smiled at them, then slipped back into the shadows.