Seeders: A Novel by A. J. Colucci Read Free Book Online

with two heavy loads. Instead of being grateful, Monica punched him in the arm and told him not to drag it. The island was a bit warmer and less windy than the boat, but everyone kept their jackets snug as they started down the gangway. Bonacelli told the captain he would be returning, and asked him to wait a couple of hours until his business was complete.
    Flannigan smiled at Isabelle. “’Eard yer ’usband’s comin’ to join ye later on. Shall oi pick ’im up den?”
    Her cheeks flushed. “It seems he’ll be getting a lift from the Coast Guard.”
    Flannigan looked impressed. “Military man, eh?”
    “Policeman,” Isabelle said. She gave Flannigan a few dollars for his kindness.
    “Aye, God bless yer cotton socks, miss.”
    Sean waved to the boat.
    Flannigan waved back. “Fair weather to ye, son.”
    *   *   *
    The path through the woods was marked with red tags nailed to trees that led straight to the house. It was a twenty-minute hike and Isabelle let Luke and Monica walk ahead. Sean trailed behind his mother, gathering pinecones.
    “Stay close,” she told him with an uneasy gaze.
    Isabelle and Bonacelli stepped carefully over the littered ground. Neglect had narrowed the path with rotting logs and fallen branches, hanging vines and pricker bushes desperate to scratch. At times the path seemed to disappear completely.
    Isabelle couldn’t see the older kids anymore, but heard a bout of laughter and then all was quiet. She hoped they didn’t accidentally veer off course; it was easy to get lost in these woods if you didn’t know the way. Countless times she had walked this trail, but now it seemed unfamiliar. The woods were murkier, gloomier than she remembered. Overhead, a few trees had begun to sprout leaves, but mostly the canopy was a web of naked limbs. White-skinned birch, mangled oaks, and towering pines with paltry needles.
    Isabelle felt a twinge of fear, which made her feel foolish. As a child she’d never been afraid of the woods—never afraid of anything—and it was troubling to think how such a brave little girl could have grown so meek. She thought of the stories George had told, silly attempts to scare her. She could almost see their tiny heads hanging from trees, antique faces with knowing expressions, dead eyes rolling back in their sockets.
    “Doll Head Woods,” she whispered.
    “Pardon?” Bonacelli said.
    “The man who lived on the island before my father collected dolls. He would slice off their heads and hang them from tree limbs. George said that when he arrived, he had to cut down hundreds of dangling heads.”
    “Grizzly story to tell a child.”
    “I wasn’t afraid. The poor man had lost all his money in the stock market and came to the island with his daughter. She was young, maybe five, and she died in some horrible accident right in these woods. Anyway, the man was convinced he was cursed and started hanging doll heads everywhere. People thought he went crazy, but my father said he believed the dolls kept out evil spirits. He hung the heads facing every direction, keeping an eye on the demons. I thought it made perfect sense at the time.”
    A second trail cut across their path and they stopped.
    “We keep straight, take the one in the middle,” she said.
    “Where do the other two lead?” the lawyer asked as they continued walking.
    Isabelle recalled that the path to the left was mostly thick woods and difficult to navigate, but the path going right had a lot of steep rocks to climb and a small pond as well.
    “My mother called it Ice Pond because it was too cold to swim, and we skated there every winter.”
    “There must be lots of places for a child to explore.”
    “Not really. It took some imagination to have any fun by myself.” She glanced around at Sean, who was busy examining something on the ground. “George must have been lonely.”
    Bonacelli nodded. “For a while he took in students. Poor kids from farms or working the boatyards, strays