Sitting on the Snakes and Ladders board was a piece that didn’t belong there. It was dark brown wood, not plastic. Closing my fistover the marbles in my palm, I leaned forward and picked it up with my free hand.
It was a wooden horse, hand carved, twice the size of my thumb. It was blocky, not overly detailed but recognizable. I ran my hand over the curves and grooves of the carving, frowning.
I hadn’t played with this, I was sure. I hadn’t seen Vail or Dodie play with it, either. Had one of our parents played with it as a child? Had it lain forgotten in the bottom of a box? For how long? Why had Ben taken it out now?
He had put it on the Snakes and Ladders board. He had wanted me to see it.
He’s been telling you and telling you,Alice had said.
I put the horse back down. I felt around for the bag to put the marbles away so I could leave. My fingers landed on the bag and I picked it up. I pulled open the drawstring and dropped the marbles in.
Something about the bag wasn’t familiar. I had played with marbles as a kid—hadn’t I? I was sure I had, or one of us had. Didn’t every kid play with marbles?
I rolled the bag against my palm. There was an inked imprint on the fabric, a stamp like you’d see on old bags of flour. On impulse, I picked up the flashlight and aimed it at the bag.
For a long moment, the world spun.
Everything made sense, yet nothing did.
He’s been telling you and telling you,I thought again.
I had asked,Is he my brother?And Alice had said,It’s the wrong question.
He’s been telling you and telling you.
The answer was on the bag of marbles.
In faded ink, the logo said,New York Glass and Marble Company. 1899.
27
Vail
I once dated a woman who read tarot cards. She worked in a Wiccan shop in Santa Fe—UFO researchers spend a lot of time in Nevada and New Mexico—and she read cards as a sideline. Because we were dating, she would read my cards for free. I’d listen with half my attention as she talked about my destiny, whether I was going to be rich or poor, whether I would travel far or stay home.
I didn’t believe it, but she did. I knew she wanted me to believe it, too. I also knew that she used the card readings as an excuse for the two of us to be alone so she could get me into bed. It worked.
But afterward, I’d lie next to her as she slept and stare at the ceiling, thinking about those cards. It was a simple trick on the surface. Each card was about such a broad topic—wealth, travel, triumph, war, wisdom—that anyone could apply it to their own life. War? That must be about the fight I had with my wife. Triumph? I turned in an assignment at school. The cards could always be right.
That didn’t interest me. What interested me was that the cards could be reversed.
Wisdom or foolishness. Triumph or defeat. Sacrifice or selfishness. A simple flip, and you had one destiny or another.
Flip a card and your life is different than it was a second ago.
Flip a card and tell your little brother to go hide.
Flip a card and walk away from your parents, your home, leaving your sisters to fend for themselves.
Flip a card and get on a plane back to Fell, so the intruders can shine their light on you again.
Flip a card and it wasn’t aliens after all.
Sorry, but that’s the way it goes.
I watched TV with Dodie, and we bickered about whether to watch the news or the late-night movie. Then Violet came down from the attic and stood in the doorway, pale and shaken, and I knew that the cards had flipped yet again.
There’s an explanation,people liked to say when they heard about my investigations.You’re reaching. There has to be an explanation.
