Miraculous Entry #1306

I was alone with her yesterday, with Milagros. She has her own room here at the hospital, and usually we’re all in it—me and Mom and Dad—but today Dad convinced Mom to have coffee with him in the hospital café. Mom wasn’t going to go—she never wants to leave Milagros—but she finally agreed when I told her I would watch her. I told her I’d keep my sister safe.

Milagros was sleeping in the incubator—that’s this plastic box with a cover to keep her warm—and there were all these machines around it. I was watching her, and she kept making these jerky movements. Her little arms would fly open and her whole body would sort of shudder, like someone was scaring her. And her little hands kept opening up and then squeezing shut like she wanted to hold on to something.

And I knew I wasn’t supposed to do this, but I felt like I had to—I opened one of the windows in the plastic cover. I put my hand in—it was clean, really clean, because they make you wash for two minutes when you come in. They even have picks for you to clean your nails.

And as soon as I put my finger next to her hand—she grabbed it! She grabbed my finger and she held on tight.

I don’t know what I expected, but I didn’t expect that. I didn’t expect a baby to be that strong. Especially not a baby who everyone says is so sick. Especially not a baby who everyone says is going to die.

And then she opened her eyes, so big and round and dark—and she looked right at me.

And I’d been waiting to feel it, I’d been waiting since she was born, and I felt it then. With just the two of us there, holding hands and looking at each other, I felt the heart-bird.

There’s going to be a miracle. I’m sure of it.

He had waited for the miracle.

But it had never come.

Unless it had.

The night was dark. The tree limb was black. Everything was quiet.

Wunder got up. He was going to see the witch.

Chapter 42

Wunder ran toward the woods. He ran as fast as he could, ducking behind cars and trash cans whenever he saw headlights coming his way. He didn’t want to be seen. He didn’t want to be asked questions. He didn’t want to explain himself. He just wanted to find out, once and for all, the whole truth.

It was a gusty night, and over the sound of his own footfalls Wunder could hear the long drawn-out rumbles of a brewing autumn storm. The wind seemed to push him forward. The thunder sounded like a low, faraway voice whispering words he couldn’t quite catch.

He didn’t hesitate when he reached the edge of the woods, but his breath caught in his throat as he plunged in. The wind was howling there, rushing down the paved path and through the now-bare trees, making everything not only shiver and wave, but shake and whip. His feet crunched over the debris that littered the path—dry leaves and displaced Spanish moss and whole branches that had come crashing down. And once he rushed past the live oak, once he was on the dirt trail, there were no leaves or vines blocking his view. He could see straight through to the DoorWay House.