The Magic Tree House - An Hour for Oblivion

Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

They found themselves in a wide, open living room. A pair of canvas sofas sat to the right, a potted yucca and miniature banana tree separating them. To the left, set against the entire length of a wall, were books—endless rows of books from floor to ceiling. Annie was staring at the shelves when she realized she no longer held the Magic Tree House book Kathleen had given them.

Before them were two large doors, both open; a warm, constant breeze blew through, filling the room with the natural perfume of flowers.

Beyond the doors was the garden.

“Is she out there?” Jack asked nervously.

Annie had a strong feeling she was, but shrugged and said, “Let’s find out.”

The garden was sprawling, but well tended. Annie recognized a few types of flowers, but many were exotic and unrecognizable. The outer border of the large expanse, an eight-foot wooden fence, curved slowly around to either side of the house.

A path of seashell-encrusted flagstones wound lazily between raised beds of flowers. They took a route at random and at once heard the soft sound of a shovel entering soil. Over and again. With each step, the sound of digging grew louder. They could not, however, locate the gardener.

Finally, the path ended and they saw her, a virtual twin to the Mary they’d met in Dark Creek, minus the gloomy cast to her features. This Mary was humming as she dug shallow pits with a thin spade. They watched in silence as she pulled small, orange flowers from a plastic pallet and placed them carefully into each hole.

Then she looked up.

A physical jolt passed between the three of them.

Both Jack and Annie felt an immediate connection with this woman, more so than the other. Annie thought, madly, back on all the variations on the Magic Tree House books they’d seen. Weren’t there, in fact, many other Marys as well? An infinite number of Marys, including deviations in her name?

The gardener stared up at the children and felt a similar connection. A swell of love and affection filled her heart, weakening her knees.

“Children,” she said, then shook her head. These weren’t children, they were adults!

“Hi, Mary,” Annie said, squatting down before her. Jack remained standing, feeling like crying and laughing at the same time.

And then things started to click in the author’s mind, like roman candles firing in sequence at a fireworks event. Loud whomps of ignition followed by prismatic explosions of understanding.

“This is about the book,” the older woman said.

“It is,” Annie said.

Mary rose slowly, carefully removing her blue, paisley gardening gloves.

“We need your help,” Jack said,

Mary Pope Osborne nodded, understanding beginning to fill in the empty spaces in her mind.

“Come with me,” she said, leading Jack and Annie back through the garden and into her home.

*     *     *

They stepped back into the living room, past the wall of books and over to a beautiful roll-top desk. Mary sat slowly in a matching chair and took the glasses from the chain around her neck. She held them before her for a moment, staring through the lenses, then set them on her face. Without thinking, she pushed them gently into place and sighed.