The Cats of Tanglewood Forest by Charles De Lint Read Free Book Online Page B

about that. She only knew that rowdy and joking though the Creek boys might be, they all grew quiet at even the mention of Aunt Nancy’s name.
    She didn’t seem to be alone, standing there underthe trees. Lillian thought she could see a dark figure standing behind her, even taller than the stately Kickaha woman, whose head was bowed in sorrow. It was hard to tell, because she only stole glances at them. Sometimes when she looked the figure was there, sometimes it was just Aunt Nancy.

    Though the weight of the old woman’s gaze was heavy, it felt light compared to the weight of Aunt’s passing.It had been hard for Lillian to look at Aunt laid out on the parlor table, hard when Samuel and John Creek lifted her into the coffin they’d built from scrap wood they’d found in the barn, harder still when they nailed shut the lid. Every bang of the hammer felt like a nail being punched into Lillian’s chest.
    And now the preacher was reading from his Bible, and soon they’d cover the coffin with dirt and Aunt would be gone forever. Her heart was breaking and her mind was spinning. She couldn’t imagine what life was going to be like from here on out.
    She couldn’t concentrate on what the preacher was saying because it just felt senseless and empty. But when the brief ceremony was over, she stood tall, just like Aunt would have wanted her to, and accepted the condolences of the neighbors before they left.
    The Creeks melted away into the forest, all except for Aunt Nancy, who lifted her hand and beckoned to Lillian with a long, dark finger. Harlene and Earl were talking in earnest to the preacher about something to do with Lillian, but they didn’t even seem to think she should be part of the conversation. Relieved to get away, Lillian circled the grave and went to where Aunt Nancy stood.
    The other figure was no longer there—if there ever had been anyone else standing behind Aunt Nancy. Perhaps she’d imagined it. Considering her dream—how real
it
had seemed—Lillian thought her imagination was much stronger than she wanted it to be.
    “I’m sorry for your loss,” Aunt Nancy said. “Your aunt was a good woman, and a good friend to my people. She will be missed.”
    Lillian nodded. “I don’t know what I’m going to do without her.”
    Aunt Nancy’s dark gaze rested on her for a long moment, and then something shimmered in her eyes, as though she were mildly startled.
    “You know it doesn’t have to be this way,” she said.
    Her voice seemed different—like it was coming from far away.
    “P-pardon me? I don’t understand,” Lillian said.
    “I think you do.”
    A hand fell on Lillian’s shoulder before she could ask Aunt Nancy what she meant. She turned to see Earl behind her.
    “What are you doing?” he asked.
    “I was just…” Lillian began, turning back to Aunt Nancy, but there was no one there now. Talking tomyself, she thought. “I was wondering why they all left so quickly,” she finished. “The Creeks, I mean.”
    “You don’t ever want to try to figure them out,” Earl said. “It’ll just make your head hurt. They may have been your aunt’s friends, but they’ve always been a real strange bunch.”
    “I guess….”
    “Still, it was good of them to come by to pay their respects. And they’ve been a big help these past couple of days.”
    Lillian nodded.
    Earl squeezed her shoulder.
    “Come on,” he said, steering her back toward the grave, where Harlene and the preacher waited. “We’re going home now.”
    Home? Lillian thought. The Welches’ farm wasn’t her home. She glanced around, her heart filled with affection and sorrow. She was the last Kindred.
This
was her family home. But she let him lead her away.
    As they followed the path back to the Welches’ farm, Lillian trailed after the others, holding her shoes in her hand. She paused at the edge of her little family graveyard and turned to look back to the edge of the woods where the Creeks had stood.