We have to go. I don't know what he's waiting for, but I have to risk it because he's not going to stand on the street corner watching us forever.
For all I know, the rain is his doing, trapping us here. If it keeps coming down like this, it's going to wash away—
The diary entry ended abruptly there, a slash of ink on the page where the pen caught at the paper. Ivy remembered that night, the details of what she'd told Uriah sharpening as it came back to her.
She let them come, staring sightlessly at the book in her lap, letting herself go back to that dark, stormy night.
*****
She'd been coloring in the living room in front of the TV when her mother leaped up from the kitchen table so fast she knocked the chair over.
“Baby, get your shoes!” her mother shouted, white-faced with fear.
Lightning struck so close to the house, that when the boom of thunder came, it was so loud Ivy couldn't hear herself scream.
The whole house shook, but her mother didn't miss a beat as she ran around the room, throwing what seemed like random things in the suitcase she dragged out from under the bed, including the entire unfolded basket of laundry. She got her shoes on, then Ivy's shoes, then hugged Ivy so tight she couldn't breathe.
“We have to go now before the house gets washed away. You're gonna be my big brave girl, right?”
“Yes, Mommy.”
“Good, let's go. Hold onto me.” Ilsa grabbed her by the hand, rolling the suitcase behind them as they headed for the garage, stopping only for Ilsa to get her purse and the book lying on the kitchen table.
Ivy remembered it smelling musty in the garage, like engine oil and mold from the deluge of rain pounding on the roof. She didn't protest when her mother opened the car door. It was exciting to finally get to sit in the front seat, even though she wasn't supposed to yet.
The suitcase got thrown in the back seat, and when Ilsa slipped behind the wheel, Ivy noticed she was trembling. Inside the car, the sound of the rain was muffled, but still loud enough to worry her.
Ilsa noticed, offering a tremulous smile before she reached out to smooth her hand over Ivy's hair. “The rain is really coming down outside, but we're going to be okay. Buckle up.”
The car started with a roar, the door opening behind them. The sheets of water coming off the roof turned red from the taillights.
The windshield wipers moved as fast as they could, but it was little help in the downpour. Still, Ilsa put the car in gear and took off down the road with her hands tightly on the wheel and her knuckles white.
Before long, they came to a low water crossing. The red lights on the flimsy barrier flashed, despite the fact that the yellow and white sawhorse was now off on the side of the road, tangled in a web of vines.
A huge river of water was between them and the other side of the road, and Ivy sat there looking at it, wondering what they were going to do now. Her mother put the car in park and turned to her, having to shout over the noise of the rain. Ivy wondered if the roof of the car was strong enough to hold up against the violence of the storm.
“Okay, Ivy. This is our only way out of town right now.”
“The water's too high, Mommy. We can't get across!”
Her mother smiled, somehow managing to laugh when Ivy was really scared. “Tonight only, you get to use as much magic as you want. Build us a bridge, baby. A big, strong bridge so we can get across. You can do it. Close your eyes and imagine it, just like we did in the back yard when you wanted to grow an orange tree. Remember?”
Ivy nodded, taking a minute to study the road and the raging river in front of them. She was scared, but the idea of getting to use her magic without having to worry that a neighbor might see was too great a temptation.
She knew exactly what kind of bridge she would make, too. She'd seen it in one of the storybooks she read before bedtime.
With the picture clear in her mind, Ivy opened her eyes and lifted her hands up toward the dash. In the glow of the headlights, her thoughts became reality. The car shook as the trees pushed up through the road, the three trunks twisting and growing, bigger, thicker, reaching across the gushing water in a gentle arch. Vines slithered like snakes around the trunks, binding them together.
“That's it, Ivy. Focus on the picture in your mind. Keep going.”
Sweat broke out on her forehead, pushing with all her might to keep the trees growing in the shape and direction she wanted them to. Huffing and panting, Ivy let go of the picture in her head, grinning triumphantly at her bridge.
She felt tired, exhausted really. All she wanted to do was sleep, but she was too excited by the prospect of getting to drive over the bridge that she held on, looking over to see the pride on her mother's face, wondering if they were happy tears on her cheeks now.
Ivy felt as tall as the trees when her mom leaned over and hugged her, but from one second to the next, she was terrified again. Her mother pulled away and slammed on the gas, throwing Ivy back in her seat as the car rocketed forward.
Ivy remembered bouncing over the bridge she'd made so hard the seatbelt bit into her shoulder, and the suitcase in the back hit the back of her seat.
Sparks flew, and metal shrieked when they made it to the other side, and without a word, her mother lifted her arm and a huge crack rent the air.
Ivy looked behind her in time to see the tree trunks whip up like they were springs, flying backward to stand up tall and straight, swaying in the wind. It was the first time since their mad rush from the house that her mother laughed.
“You saved us, Ivy! I'm so proud of you.”
*****
Her mother’s laugh rang in Ivy’s ears, the memory warming her straight through to where she was cold and aching for the loss she'd forgotten.
There was only one more entry, only a few more pages, and Ivy felt a mix of curiosity and grief for the end to come.
My sweet girl,
Right now, you're settling into your new life at Haggara, and I'm so sorry I couldn't find another way to keep you safe. I hope this journal never finds its way into your hands. I hope someday, I'll get to tell you this story myself, but I'm terrified I won't get the chance.
If you are reading this, no doubt you've read everything else and you know now the awful choices I've made.
I wanted to have a baby more than anything in the whole world. I wanted you, so desperately, I was willing to pay the price, no matter how steep. I made a deal with a Green Man, only to learn later he wasn't just a simple fertility element.
At the time, he gave me hope when there was none, and carrying his offspring alongside my own seemed so simple.
I expected a baby with little hooves and horns like his, a monster I could hand over without a second thought. A thing that looked like him, that reminded me of what he'd done to me on the night you were conceived, not a beautiful little boy with ten perfect toes, ten tiny little fingers, and no horns to speak of.
I knew when I saw those hands and feet pushing up against my belly from the inside, yours and your brother's, I'd made a horrible mistake, but when he came to collect his son, I had to let Ilex go.
I tried to keep us all together, but it was made very clear to me that if I tried to alter or go back on my word, your father was happy to destroy both of you right then and there, and start over. It made no difference to him either way.
There was no love in his expression when he looked at you, only dissatisfaction. He went so far as to say it was a shame you'd been born female, disappointed because his choice was limited.