The place was ghastly. Thick, dusty cobwebs hung down from the ceiling all the way to the floor. He could hear creatures—mice, rats, and whatever else they have in the country—scurrying about under the floor. The sunlight that came through the dirty windows showed years of dust floating through the air.
“Take the luggage back to the car,” Phillip said over his shoulder to the man behind him. “She’s not staying here.” He waited until the man was gone, then he turned, stepped onto the door and out into the fresh air. He’d never thought of James Manville as evil until this moment. That he’d leave his wife this filthy place and expect her to live here was either insane or truly evil. Since he knew for a fact that James was not insane, that left—
Lips tight with anger, Phillip walked toward the back of the house to find Bailey.
The photos hadn’t lied: the back really was worse than the front. Huge trees, vines that were covered with lethal-looking thorns, bushes as tall as trees, and weeds as big as something in a science fiction movie fought each other for space and light. The tangled mass of plants around him made Phillip shiver. To his right were stones set in the ground to make a narrow path through weeds as high as his head. The many bees buzzing around him made him quicken his step. “Lillian?” he called, then caught himself. Like the lawyer he was, he looked around to see if anyone had heard him make the error of calling her by her former name. But as he looked at the tangle of weeds, he knew that an army could be hiding ten feet away, and he’d not be able to see them. “Bailey?” he called louder as he quickened his pace. Still, there was no answer.
Immediately, his mind filled with all the horrors of the country: snakes, rabid skunks, deer that could kick a person to death. Were there wolves in these mountains? What about wildcats that hid high up in trees and jumped on people? What . . . about . . . bears?
If the jacket she was wearing hadn’t been bright pink, he never would have seen her. She was entangled in the biggest, ugliest tree he’d ever seen, and all he could spy were her denim-clad legs and part of one pink sleeve. Oh, God, he thought, she’s hanged herself. In despair over James and this hideous place, she’d somehow managed to commit suicide.
Heart pounding, he ran toward the tree, ducked under two low limbs, and then saw her. She was alive and looking upward raptly as though she were seeing some heavenly vision. It’s worse than suicide; she’s lost her mind, he thought.
“Bailey,” he said softly, but when she didn’t respond, he said, “Lillian?” She just kept looking upward. Slowly, carefully, he stepped toward her—but he also inspected the ground. Weren’t people supposed to stand still if they saw rattlesnakes? Was a poisonous snake the reason she wasn’t moving?
“Bailey?” he said softly when he got closer to her. “We can go now. You don’t have to stay here. If you want a little house somewhere, I’ll buy it for you. I’ll—”
“Do you know what this is?” she whispered.
He looked up, but all he saw was an old tree that badly needed pruning—or better yet, removal. “I know,” he said, “it’s a horrible old thing. But you don’t have to look at it.” He put his hand on her arm to pull her away.
“It’s a mulberry tree,” she said softly, her voice sounding almost reverent. “And it’s very old. It’s a black mulberry tree.”
“Nice,” Phillip said, then pulled harder on her arm.
Bailey smiled. “The Chinese duped James the First.”
At first he thought she meant James Manville, but then he realized she meant the English king, Elizabeth the First’s incompetent successor. What did an English king have to do with a derelict farm in Virginia?
She spoke again. “James decided to grow mulberry trees in England so he could raise silkworms and make silk an industry in England. The silkworms feed on mulberry leaves, you know. So James imported thousands and thousands of mulberry trees from China. But—” She broke off and smiled as she touched a leaf of the big tree. “The Chinese tricked him. They sent the English king trees that bear black mulberry fruit instead of white. Black mulberries are great for eating, but silkworms won’t touch them.”
Phillip looked at his watch. It was 2:00 P.M. Three hours back to the airport, and his flight was at six. Of course he’d have to find a seat for Bailey on the same flight. “Look, why don’t you tell me more about mulberry trees and the kings of England on the way back to the airport? You can—”
“I’m not leaving,” she said.
It was Phillip’s turn to want to burst into tears. Why did all women have to be contrary? “Bailey,” he said firmly, “you haven’t seen the inside of that house! It’s falling down. The door collapsed when I opened it. How can you possibly spend the night here? The place is filthy! It’s—”
“What’s that?” she asked.
At the sound of a large truck on the rarely used gravel road in front of the house, Phillip started chanting, “No, no, no, no,” even as Bailey leaped over two tree limbs and started running down the overgrown path.
The furniture had arrived.
Three
For
a moment, the two burly furniture movers stood behind Bailey, looking across the fallen door into the house. A breeze blew in through a broken windowpane, and the cobwebs danced in the dust.
“Not quite ready for us, are you?” one of the movers said into the silence.
“There’s been a mistake,” Phillip said from behind them. “We’re sending all the furniture back.”
“I can’t take the stuff back,” the mover nearest Bailey said. “Look, mister, this is my truck but their furniture. They paid me to haul it one way. If I drive it back up north, they’re gonna tell me that the expense is on my head, not theirs.”
“I’ll pay you whatever—” Phillip began, but Bailey cut him off.
“It’s not going to be sent back. The furniture goes into the house just as soon as I get it—”