Once there was a tree who longed to come inside. Tim the Tree felt so drawn to people. Even as a sapling, he’d just loved hearing them talk. Gosh, what was a “transmission leak”? What did the daddy mean by “You obsess too much”? What did the mommy mean by saying that “obsessing” was her “superpower,” which she “used every day, in her work”? There were so many words to learn! What was “apology,” what was “perturbed,” what was “darling”? If the wind was blowing from the east, bending him slightly to the left, he could peer into the kitchen through the dirty little window over the sink, which hadn’t been washed in ever so long, through which the mommy was now gazing out at him, a worried look on her—­

Restart.

Tim the Tree loved his spot near the path into the woods, from which he could watch the comings and goings of the various forest denizens, large and small, such as bears, foxes, hikers, hunters, and, today—­

A strange tableau.

That phrase just popped into her head. Derek walked into the yard. Stumbled. Blood on his face. Holy crap. Weaving like a little drunk.

She burst out of the house, followed by Mr. Potts, who, barking insanely, plowed right through the garden. She plowed through the garden herself, picked Derek up, plowed back through the garden, dropped onto the porch steps with him in her arms.

What happened, baby? she said. Baby, what happened?

Old guy, he said.

Old guy? she said. What old guy?

He came up behind me, he said. Pushed me down.

Where? she said.

Derek didn’t want to say.

Sweetie, where were you? she said.

Church Street, he said.

That was—oh, my God, that was nearly downtown. Way disallowed.

Now was not the time.

She got him inside. Nose not broken. No teeth chipped. She called Keith at work. Called the police. Cleaned up Derek’s face. It looked like he’d been clawed.

He just . . . pushed you down? she said.

Into a bush, he said.

Must have been a rose or blackberry.

Jesus.

Ten minutes later, Keith walked in.

What’s all this? he said.

Her phone rang.

The police had a guy. Already. Old guy. Kind of out of it. They’d found him wandering back and forth between Church and Bellefree. Would she come down, have a look? Bring the kid, if he was up for it?

Oh, he’s up for it, she said.

Guy was old, all right.

Long hair, missing tooth, gross sandals, eyes roaming anxiously all over the place.

Of course he denied it. Why would he push a kid down? He was just going through a rough patch right now. But that didn’t mean he’d push a kid down. This false accusation was part of it. Had Glenda started this? Glenda had a network, of which it seemed the police were part. Also Jimmy Carter was part of it.