The Witching Hour

Chapter Seventeen

Julia knew her decision was hasty. She'd left the house so quickly she forgot to put her coat on, and took her bike to the nearest station. She bought her ticket to Ireland and hopped on the train, nothing in her trunk but a change of clothes and Evangeline's diary.

She found an empty compartment and sat down by the window. Guilt weighed on her for leaving everyone behind. Poppy had followed her and told her not to go, that they'd help James from where they were. She had assured her friend she wouldn't leave. Another lie. That seemed to be all she was made of.

The compartment door slid open and a boy in a newsboy's cap peeked in. He was barely shorter than her, and rosy-cheeked. He carried a satchel full of newspapers.

"Is this seat taken?" he asked.

"No," Julia said.

The boy came in and sat down diagonal from her, by the door. "I'm Eddie," he offered.

"Julia," said Julia. She wasn't a social person, and the idea of a train ride–a long one, at that–spent with this stranger was disquieting.

They sat in silence for a long while. Julia watched as first the station disappeared behind them, then a patch of forest, then a wide field of swaying golden wheat stocks.

"How old are you?" Eddie tried again.

"Fifteen," Julia replied, not turning from the window.

"Me too!" Eddie said, as if he'd discovered some rare fossil.

Julia tried to smile, but it came out more of a grimace. The face she made when strangers smiled at her, but especially men.

For another hour or so they sat in silence, Eddie reading one of his many newspapers, Julia pretending to read the diary so as to avoid confrontation.

"Wait a minute," Eddie said. "Percy H. I feel like I know the name."

"She was in the paper a few weeks ago," Julia said quietly, not putting down the diary.

"Hm..." Eddie thought. "Oh! Percy...Howard, was it?"

"No," Julia said. "Evangeline Howard."

Eddie nodded. "I see."

He fiddled with the loose edges of the papers. "So...was this Howard kid a friend of yours?"

"Yes," Julia said.

"Then I'm sorry for your loss," Eddie said. He said nothing after that for a very long time.

It got dark outside the window, and presently Julia noticed that Eddie was asleep. She sighed in relief. She could relax now.

The train pulled into the station. Eddie wore a watch, and Julia glanced at the time. Almost eleven o'clock.

Julia stepped off the train. She'd never been to Ireland, and the station was different than she expected. Not quite like England, but not all that different either. Just smaller. Not as busy, and only a few train tracks. Their train was the only one arriving in the station so late.

Everyone else filtered off the train, and suddenly Julia noticed Eddie was not in the crowd. She ran back into the train.

"Eddie!" she called. "We're here, come on!"

She came to their compartment. He was awake, frantically stuffing his newspapers back into his bag. She knelt down to help him. The last paper was retrieved, and they ran back to the door. The man had just closed the door. He saw them and opened it, hurrying them out.

Julia and Eddie collapsed on the ground of the station, laughing and wiping sweat off their faces.

"Thanks," Eddie said.

"Of course," Julia said. "But next time I recommend waking up before we arrive."

He laughed and stood, reaching down a hand to help her up. She got up without it, then apologized. He shook it off.

"Where to next?" he asked her.

"I'm looking for someone," she said. "He took the train to England a little while ago and apparently never arrived."

"Ah," Eddie said. "James Kelly, yes?"

"Yes," she said. "You really know all the news."

"I'm a newsboy," he said, the statement self-explanatory. "Is James a friend of yours, too?"

She nodded. They crossed the street and left the station. The sky was darker than in England, Julia noticed. Stars glittered above them, a thousand little lights serving as a reminder of how small they really were.

"Do you live in Ireland?" she asked Eddie. She'd been listening to his accent, and she still couldn't place it.

"No," he said. "Well, yes. I move frequently. Right now, yes."

A block of houses passed by, then another.

"I go this way," Eddie said. He handed her a newspaper, and pulled out a pencil. He wrote an address at the very top of the page.

"If you need help finding your friend, I'll be at this address," he said.

Julia watched him as he left. He seemed to grow on people. He'd grown on her.

The last of Julia's money went to a bus ride. She couldn't walk to James' farm on her own.

She arrived an hour later. For almost five minutes, she stood outside James' door, wondering whether it would be too cruel to knock at almost midnight. She raised a hand to knock, and turned away, down the steps. Too cruel.

I have no money, she thought. Where can I sleep?

There was a willow tree not far outside James' farm, outside the front gate and down the road a little. The farm was near the top of a gentle hill. There were maybe twenty large farms, all the way down the hill on both sides. The willow tree was near the top; sighing with the wind and moving with a quiet grace.

Julia sat down beneath the willow. It's leaves nearly touched the ground, and in the dark she was entirely shaded from view.

Underneath her, the ground and roots were hard. She couldn't sleep, not that she wanted to anyway, so she opened the newspaper Eddie had given her and blindly made a list of places James had told her about. If he was hidden in Ireland, she would find him.