“You will,” I assure her. “All we have to do is make it there, and then go into the hidden door. It’ll be beautiful. It’s breathtaking. You’ll love it.”
“I don’t think it’s possible to have anxiety in a garden like that,” she says.
“Do you have anxiety right now?” I ask.
“Well… yes?” she says with a chuckle. “But… it’s okay. I’m okay… I’m ... doing this,” she says, struggling for words between her labored steps. “And if I can do this, then I can go to the secret garden with you. Maybe we can have lunch there. Do our homework there.”
“We will,” I say, feeling guilty for not revealing that none of this can happen until I find the key.
“I can’t wait.”
“This way.” I turn us to the left where the paths change and we need to switch directions.
As we turn, I notice something in the corner of my vision. I look back and see Declan. Standing there in his gardening uniform, his dark eyes peering right at mine, having heard everything I just said about the garden he insists doesn’t exist. I turn away and keep walking, hoping he doesn’t say anything that will ruin Belle’s night.
Chapter Sixteen
He doesn’t say anything.After we’ve walked for a few harrowing seconds, I glance back to see if he’s still there. It’s fairly dark out here and maybe I only imagined it. At least I hope so. But as I turn around to sneak a glance, I see Declan still standing there.
He gives me a questioning look. Anare you okay?look.
I hold out a thumbs up behind Belle’s back. I’ve told him before that I live with my cousin and that she doesn’t go outside. He didn’t ask for any details and I wasn’t volunteering them, but I’m glad he knows to stay quiet now. One random unexpected person might send my cousin into another panic attack.
Belle doesn’t talk much as we walk fifteen minutes through the gardens to the other side of the campus. She’s too busy admiring the beauty of the gardens, even when they’re covered in shadows. She stops to touch a rose bloom, and then she leans forward and smells it.
“I can’t wait to come back,” she says whimsically. “Let’s come back tomorrow.”
I bite the inside of my lip. “You need to heal first.”
“Why? I’m out here now.”
“Because this right here is an emergency,” I say, pointing at her ankle. “We’ll come back in a few weeks.”
“No, tomorrow.”
“It’s after midnight, so it’s technically already tomorrow,” I say. “Wish granted.”
She groans. “I thought you wanted me to go to the gardens! You said it would help my anxiety.”
“I do,” I say, feeling like a huge jerk. She’s come so far tonight, and she’s in pain, and we’re about to go to the hospital, which I’m sure will be horrible on her anxiety. I just can’t tell her the truth right now. All I have to do is get a little more time, a few more days to search for the key.
Belle freezes at the edge of the property. Even though there’s a large stone wall that closes in the Shelfbrooke campus from the outside world, there are a few wrought iron gates that bridge the two if you know where to look. This one is in the gardens, and it leads to a road that’s only two blocks away from Aunt Kate. I found it a few weeks ago.
“What if someone’s out here?” Belle whispers, peering through the gate at the street on the other side.
“It’s late, everyone is asleep,” I assure her. We step onto the sidewalk and then quickly hobble across the street. My shoulders are aching from supporting her weight, but we’re almost there. I try calling Aunt Kate again, but she doesn’t answer.
“Mom is going to be so mad at me,” Belle says as we approach the apartments. Aunt Kate’s car is parked in the spot right in front of her apartment and Belle stares at it for a moment, like it’s something familiar that she hasn’t seen in a while.
“She won’t be mad,” I say. “Stay here.” I leave Belle to lean against the porch railing and I jog up the three steps to the front door. Anxiety washes over me. This is a lot like when I first showed up here, only it’s different. Everything has changed since then.
I ring the doorbell a few times in a row, hoping it’ll be loud enough to wake her up. A light turns on in the living room.
The door swings open.
“Oh my God!” Aunt Kate says. She dives past me, heading straight to her daughter. “What’s going on?”
“I think she broke her ankle,” I say.
