And for a moment—a split second—he thought he saw the spirals shifting.

Then they were still.

But someone was there.

Not in the tower though. On the porch.

In a rocking chair made of the same black spiraling wood as the house, there was an old woman. She was dressed in white, in a sort of robe with shawls and belts, and she had long black hair that was blowing wildly around her. A newspaper was spread out on her lap. Its pages flapped like wings.

As Wunder gaped at her, the old woman looked up from her paper. Her head turned slowly until her eyes found him.

She smiled. Then she lifted one hand. And she waved.

Wunder jerked his gaze away. He turned to his father and the minister. But neither of them was looking at the DoorWay House.

Farther ahead, Mrs. Lee and her older daughter walked on, their heads bent together. They weren’t looking at the DoorWay House either.

But, behind him, Faye had stopped in the middle of the path. She had pulled the hood of her cloak up, and she was staring out from under its peak. Staring past the live oak, down the dirt trail, through the leaves and branches and vines at the DoorWay House.

The old woman was still there. Her hand was still raised. Her hair had whipped across her face, covering her eyes.

But Wunder knew she was still watching him.

Chapter 5

That night Wunder’s father heated up one of the many casseroles that had been pouring into the house since Wunder’s sister was born, this one from someone named Mariah Lazar. Wunder set two places at the kitchen table, one for him and one for his father. His mother was still in her room.

Wunder didn’t like peas. He didn’t like cauliflower either. Those and some chunks of unidentifiable meat seemed to be the only ingredients in the casserole.

But he didn’t feel like eating anyway. There were too many feelings filling him up, too many thoughts distracting him.

“Did you hear what the Minister of Consolation said?” he asked his father after pushing green blobs of food around his plate for a few minutes.

Wunder’s father sniffed his forkful of casserole. “I did. I think everyone in Branch Hill did.”

“But did you hear the part—the part about the miracle? I’ve never heard that verse.”

Wunder’s father took a tentative bite, then set his fork right back down. “That minister said a lot of words—screamed a lot of words, actually—but I don’t know if he meant any of them.” He picked up his fork again. “Father Robles must have forgotten that the funeral was today. I know he wanted to be there. I would have liked for him to have been there. And our friends and family too.”

Wunder didn’t want to tell his father that he didn’t feel the same way, that he understood now why his mother hadn’t wanted to have the funeral. So he let silence fill the room again before saying, “Remember when I thought I saw someone in the DoorWay House when I was little? It was strange to see someone there today, wasn’t it?”