Part 27

          "I know you do so much for her though - she's lucky to have a brother like you."
          "Well.  We're unlucky enough in other things," he mutters, kicking a fallen apple off into the shadows.
          And what can I say to that?  Telling a kid he'll grow up someday and can be on his own is like telling someone life is better on the moon.  It's just not a tangible reality.
          "Building a fort in the tree?"
          "Huh?  Oh.  No, not really.  Mother would be cross if I did anything to spoil the es-tet-ic effects of the lawn.  So I'm building one out in the woods.  Would you like to see it?"
          "Sure!  ...if it won't get you in trouble or anything, it's starting to get dark, will someone be looking for you?"
          "No," he replies, and my heart sinks at such darkness in the tone of one so young.  "They won't."  Then he darts forward and grabs my hand, and his face takes on a completely different aspect as a smile spreads across it.  "Come on - if we don't start now, it will be too dark for you to see it properly."
          I grin.  "Lead on, captain!"
          I follow him as he leads us around the side of the house - the side with the bedrooms, not the tower-side.  There are lights in several of the windows, but the tower is a blaze of brilliance, giving me an eerie reminder of the bright flames I've seen billowing inside it.  We keep to the edge of the yard, moving from shadow to shadow, as though we're playing spies.  Maybe we are - though I guess it would be Civil War spies, rather than the Cold War spies my sister and I played as kids.  Once out back by the gardens, we take a white marble path that glows faintly in the dim twilight.  The place smells amazing, the air heavy with rich honeysuckle, spiced jasmine, luxurious roses, and other things I can't identify.
          "...is it safe to talk?  Or will you be in trouble if you're caught?" I ask him quietly, when we're in a particularly dense bit of shrubbery.
          "I don't want anyone else to know the way to my secret hideout," he replies in a stage whisper.
          "Right.  Did you build it all yourself, or is it Evelyn's too?"
          "Uh-uh.  It's mine, I made it myself, and no-one else is allowed there.  Well, not without my especial permission, that is.  Evelyn doesn't even know it's there, she's too little anyway."
          I get pretty turned around as we weave our way through the gardens in their full summer lushness, so I'm not actually sure where we are when we come out through the edge of the garden and head into the woods.  I'm a little concerned - will I slip back to my own time if we cross out past the Mason property line?  But no, my apartment seemed to be within that area, so we have a good bit of buffer still.
          "You know your way back alright if it gets really dark?"
          "Of couse - I've been out here a hundred times.  Sometimes even at night.  Anyway, the moon should be bright enough tonight."
          I guess I'm glad the kid has a bit of a refuge he can run off to if he needs to get away, but... I just don't understand, why have kids if you're not going to love them?  Obviously Cora didn't have access to birth control pills or anything, but counting the days and things, you can get a pretty good idea.  Though - I wince a little at the thought - maybe Azal didn't always take no for an answer, despite any protests on her part.
          "Now. You've got to close your eyes, you can't see its exact location."
          "...isn't it dark enough that we can skip that step?"
          He looks around gravely.  "Well.  I suppose it might be.  Though you've got to swear on your life that you won't divulge its location to a living soul."
          I grin wryly at his choice of words, he has no idea what a giant loophole that gives me. "I swear."
          "Good.  Now, you come through the main gate here," he begins, as he leads the way beneath an ancient low-hanging grape vine.  I have to bend over awfully far to clear it - Avery's maybe eight or nine years old now, and not exactly my height.  "Then across the draw bridge here," he continues, balancing easily as he walks across a plank of wood set over what I suspect is a big puddle after a heavy rain.  Once across, I lift my eyes from the treacherous ground, and look up as he gestures with a flourish toward a murky shape among the trees.
          I'm actually pretty impressed.  The front wall is actually brick for about the first two feet - it doesn't look like they're mortared in place or anything, just stacked, but solidly so.  From there, the walls are outlined with planks of wood, though in places there are gaps he's filled in with dense pine branches.
          "Let me get the candle lit, and I'll show you inside," he says excitedly.