Part 12.2

“Mama.”

In the kitchen, Eleanor sat with a mug of hot chocolate cradled in her hands on the table. The voice came again.

“Mama.”

She turned to look for the source of the voice, seeing a tanned little girl with windblown hair standing at her elbow. She looked at the child curiously.

“Mama,” said Cailyn for a third time. “There was a note on the door. It was stuck by the doorknob.” She held out a piece of paper.

Eleanor took the slip of paper and a swallow from the mug. The hot chocolate was cold.

“What happened to your feet?” the girl asked, raising her eyebrows at the sight of her mother’s bandage bound feet, perched gingerly on the chair rung below her seat.

“Mmm,” Eleanor said, unfolding the paper. “Nothing.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing.”

“I meant nothing serious. I broke a dish,” she told the girl and smiled. “I stepped on the broken glass. Don't worry. I'm fine.”

Cailyn’s eyebrows furrowed for a moment. “Ouch.” Then her face relaxed as her thoughts flitted on to other things. “We’re going to Wren’s house.”

Eleanor nodded. “Mhmm….”

Cailyn turned from the table. “We’ll be back before dark.” And pulling her brother up from the couch, said, “C’mon Jack, Wren told me at school that they got a new puppy.”

A door slammed somewhere in the distance.

“You shouldn’t let them go wandering around the neighborhood like that,” suggested Harvest, sitting across from her. “What if some deviant snatches them?”

“What’s a deviant?” queried Baz from under the table.

“Someone who forces other people to dance the limbo before they are required to find the exact value of pi,” purred Pitchtongue.

“Mmm, pie,” sighed Baz. “I’m hungry!”

“Wren just lives around the corner. Besides,” she said to Harvest, “this is a safe neighborhood.”

“That’s what your mother thought,” he told her.

Eleanor rolled her eyes. "Harvest, would you --?" she stopped and picked up the cordless phone at her elbow. After dialing, she waited a moment and then spoke into the receiver. "Hi, Janet, this is Eleanor Morrow. My children are coming over to play with... alright, they're already there? Okay, just making sure they got there safely." She paused. "I know. I feel the same way. Yes, I agree, it's a very safe neighborhood." Another pause. "Well, I'm glad. The children just adore Wren. Yes, we should. Why don't I look at my schedule and then get back to you? Dinner sounds lovely. Alright. Alright, Janet. Same to you. Goodbye."

Eleanor clicked off the phone and looked at Harvest. "There," she said. "Are you happy?"

"Are you?" he answered. "You're not going to 'look at your schedule' are you? Are you ever going to accept that woman's invitation to dinner?"

Eleanor shook her head. She scanned the paper in her hand. It was an invitation to a place of worship down the road. Do you ever wonder why you’re here? Where you’ve come from? Where you’re going? it said. We have answers. Come visit us! Services Start at 10am.

“What does it say?” asked Harvest.

Eleanor handed it across the table and he bent to read it.

He snorted. “The Church of the One Truth,” he read derisively.

She shrugged. “I dunno,” she said. “They sound friendly.”

“As if someone could have the One Truth,” said Harvest. “What would that even be?”

“That we’re all gingerbread men living on Mars,” said Pitchtongue.

Baz rolled on the floor, laughing.

Adjusting her feet, Eleanor winced. She took another sip of cold chocolate. The One Truth, she thought. …that this is hell….