Thief of Always

"Enough!" the Hood-House yelled. "Enough!"

But its voice-which had once carried such terrible authority had grown weak. Its orders went unnoticed; or if noticed, then disobeyed.

The seasons raged on, throwing themselves against each other with rare abandon, and in passing tearing at the House which stood in the midst of their battlefield.

The walls, which had begun to teeter as Hood's power diminished, were thrown over by the raging wind. The chimneys were wracked by thunder, and toppled; the lightning rods struck so many times they melted, and fell through the slateless roof in a burning rain, setting fire to every floorboard, banister and stick of furniture they touched. The porch, pummeled by hail, was reduced to matchwood. The staircase, rocked to its foundations by the growth in the dirt around it, collapsed like a tower of cards.

Squinting against the face of the storm, Harvey witnessed all of this, and rejoiced. He'd come to the House hoping to steal back the years that Hood had tricked from him, but he'd never dared believe he could bring the whole edifice down. Yet here it was, falling as he watched. Loud though the dins of wind and thunder were, they couldn't drown out the sound of the House as it perished and went to dust. Every nail and sill and brick seemed to shriek at once, a cry of pain that only oblivion could comfort.

Harvey was denied a glimpse of Hood's last moments. A cloud of dirt rose like a veil to cover the sight. But he knew the moment his battle with the Vampire King was over, because the warring seasons suddenly turned to peace. The thunderhead softened its furies, and dispersed; the wind dropped to an idling breeze; the fierce sun grew watery, and veiled itself in mist.

There was debris in the air, of course: petals and leaves, dust and ash. They fell like a dream rain, though their fall marked the end of a dream.

"Oh, child..."said Mrs. Griffin.

Harvey turned to her. She was standing just a few yards from him, gazing up at the sky. There was a little patch of blue above their heads; the first glimpse of real sky these few acres of ground had seen since Hood had founded his empire of illusions. But it was not the patch she was watching, it was a congregation of floating lights-the same that Harvey had seen Hood feeding upon in the attic-which had been freed by the collapse of the House. They were now moving in a steady stream toward the lake.

"The children's souls," she said, her voice growing thinner as she spoke the word. "Beautiful."

Her body was no longer solid, Harvey saw; she was fading away in front of him.

"Oh no," he murmured.

She took her eyes off the sky and stared down at her arms, and the cat she was carrying in them. It too was growing insubstantial.

"Look at us," Mrs. Griffin said, with a smile upon her weary face. "It feels so wonderful."

"But you're disappearing."

"I've lingered here far too long, sweet boy," she said. There were tears glistening on her face, but they were tears of joy, not of sadness. "It's time to go..." She kept stroking Stew-Cat as they both

faded from sight. "You are the brightest soul I ever met, Harvey Swick," she said. "Keep shining, won't you?"

Harvey wished he had some words to persuade her to stay a little while longer. But even if he'd had such words, he knew it would have been selfish to speak them. Mrs. Griffin had another life to go to, where every soul shone.

"Goodbye, child," she said. "Wherever I go, I will speak of you with love."

Then her ghostly form flickered out, leaving Harvey alone in the ruins.

XXIV

A Fledgling Thief

He was not alone for long. Mrs. Griffin and Stew-Cat had no sooner vanished from sight than Harvey heard a voice calling his name. The air was still thick with dust, and he had to look hard for the speaker. But after a little time he found her, stumbling toward him.

"Lulu?"

"Who else?" she said, with a little laugh.

The lake's dark water still soaked her from head to foot, but as it ran from her body and into the ground the last traces of her silver scales went with it. When she opened her arms to him, they were human arms.

"You're free!" he said, running to her and hugging her hard." I can't believe you're free!"

"We're all free," she said, and glanced back toward the lake.

An extraordinary sight met his eyes: a procession of laughing children coming toward him through the mist. Those closest to him were all but returned to their human shape, those behind them still shaking off their fishiness, step by step.

"We should all get out of here," Harvey said, looking toward the wall. "I don't think we'll have any trouble getting through the mist now."

One of the children behind Lulu had spotted a box of clothes in the rubble of the House, and announcing his find to the rest, stumbled through the debris to find something to wear. Lulu left Harvey's side to join the search, but not before she'd planted a kiss on his cheek.

"Don't expect one from me!" said a voice out of the dust, and Wendell stepped into view, beaming from ear to ear. "What did you do, Harvey?" he wanted to know as he surveyed the chaos. "Pull the place down brick by brick?"

"Something like that," said Harvey, unable to conceal his pride.

There was a roaring sound from the direction of the lake.

"What's that?" Harvey wanted to know.

"The water's disappearing," Wendell said.

"Where to?"

Wendell shrugged. "Who cares?" he said. "Maybe it's all being sucked to Hell!"

Eager to witness this, Harvey walked toward the lake, and through the clouds of dirt in the air saw that it had indeed become a whirlpool, its once placid waters now a raging spiral.

"What happened to Hood, by the way?" Wendell wanted to know.

"He's gone," said Harvey, almost mesmerized by the sight of the vortex. "They've all gone."

Even as the words left his lips a voice said: "Not quite."

He turned from the waters, and there in the rubble stood Rictus. His fine jacket was torn and his face was white with dust. He looked like a clown; a laughing clown.

"Now why would I take myself off?" he asked. "We never said goodbye."

Harvey stared at him with bafflement on his face. Hood was gone; so was his magic. How could Rictus have survived the disappearance of his Master?

"I know what you're thinking," said Rictus, reaching into his pocket. "You're wondering why I'm not dead and gone. Well, I'll tell you. I did some plannin' ahead." He drew a glass globe, which flickered as though it held a dozen candle flames, out of his pocket. "I stole a little piece of the old man's magic, just in case he ever got tired of me and tried to put me out of my misery." He lifted the globe up to his leering face. "I've got enough power here to keep me going for years and years," he said. "Long enough to build a new House, and take over where Hood left off. Oh, don't look so unhappy, kid. I got a place for you, right here-" He slapped his thigh. "You can be my bird dog. I'll send you out lookin' for kiddie-winkies to bring home to Uncle Rictus." He slapped his thigh a second time. "C'mon!" he said. "Don't waste my time now. I don't-?"

He stopped there, his gaze dropping to the rubble at his feet.

A terrified whisper escaped his throat. "Oh no..." he murmured. "I beg-"

Before he could finish his plea a hand with foot-long fingers reached up from the rubble and snatched hold of his throat, dragging him down into the dirt in one swift motion.

"Mine!" said a voice out of the ground. "Mine!"

It was Hood, Harvey knew. There was no other voice on earth that cut so deep.

Rictus struggled in his creator's grip, digging in the debris for some weapon. But none came to hand. All he had was his skill as a persuader.

The magic's yours," he said. "I was holding on to it for you!"

"Liar!" said the voice that rose from the debris.

"I was! I swear!"

"Give it to me then!" Hood demanded.

Where shall I put it?" Rictus asked, his voice a strangled croak.

Hood's hand loosened him a little, and he managed to haul himself to his knees.

"Right here..." Hood said, hanging onto Rictus's collar by his littlest digit, while his forefinger pointed down toward the rubble. "...Pour it into the ground."

"But-"

"Into the ground!"

Rictus pressed the globe between his palms, and it shattered like a sphere of spun sugar, its bright contents running out between his palms and into the ground in front of him.

There was a moment of silence; then a tremor ran through the rubble.

Hood's finger let its captive slip, and Rictus hurriedly got to his feet. He had no chance to make an escape, however. Pieces of timber and stone instantly moved over the heaps of rubble toward the spot where he'd poured the magic, several lifted high into the air. All Rictus could do was cover his head as the hail increased.

Harvey was clear of this flying debris, and might well have made a retreat in these few moments. But he was wiser than that. If he fled now, he knew, his business with Hood would never be finished. It would be like a nightmare he could never quite shake from his head. Whatever happened next, however terrible, it would be better to see it and understand it than to turn his back and have his mind haunt him with imaginings to his dying day.

He didn't have to wait long for Hood's next move. The hand holding Rictus's neck suddenly let him go, and in a flash was gone from sight. The following moment the ground gaped and a form appeared, hunched over as it climbed out of its tomb in the rubble.

Rictus let out a cry of horror, but it was short. Before he could retreat one step the figure reached for him, and turning to face Harvey, held his traitorous servant high.

Here, at last, was the evil that had built the Holiday House, shaped more or less as a man. He was not made of flesh, blood and bone, however. He had used the magic Rictus had unwillingly provided to create another body.

In the high times of his evil, Hood had been the House. Now, it was the other way around. The House, what was left of it, had become Mr. Hood.

XXV

The Vortex

His eyes were made of broken mirrors, and his face of gouged stone. He had a mane of splinters, and limbs of timber. He had shattered slates for teeth, and rusty screws for fingernails, and a cloak of rotted drapes that scarcely hid the darkness of his heart from sight.

"So, thief-" he said, ignoring Rictus's pitiful struggles, "you see me as the man was. Or rather, as a copy of that man. Is it what you expected?"

"Yes," Harvey said. "It's exactly what I expected."

"Oh?"

"You're dirt and muck and bits and pieces," Harvey said. "You're nothing!"

"Nothing, am I?" said Hood. "Nothing? Ha! I'll show you, thief! I'll show you what I am."

"Let me kill him for you," Rictus managed to gasp. "You needn't bother! I'll do it!"

"You brought him here," Hood said, turning his splintered eyes on his servant. "You're to blame!"

"He's just a boy. I can deal with him. Just let me do it! Let me-"

Before Rictus could finish Hood took hold of his servant's head, and with one short motion simply twisted it off. A yellowish cloud of foul-smelling air rose from the severed neck, and Rictus-the last of Hood's abominable quartet-perished in an instant. Hood let the head go from his hand. It flew up into the air like an unknotted balloon, giving off a farting sputter as it looped the loop and finally fell, emptied, to the ground.

Hood casually dropped the body, which had summarily shrunk to nothing, and turned his mirrored gaze back upon Harvey.

"Now, thief," he said. "YOU WILL SEE POWER!"

His mane of splinters stood on end, as though every one of them was ready to pierce Harvey's heart. His mouth grew wide as a tunnel, and a blast of sour, icy air rose from his belly.

"Come closer," he roared, opening his arms.

The rags that clung there billowed, and spread like the wings of some ancient vampire; a vampire that had dined on the blood of pterodactyl and tyrannosaur.

"Come!" he said again. "Or must I come for you?"

Harvey didn't waste his breath with a reply. He'd need every gasp he had if he was to outpace this horror. Not even certain what direction he was taking, he turned on his heels and ran, as another blast of soul-freezing air struck him. The ground was treacherous; slippery and strewn with rubble. He fell within six strides, and glanced back to see Hood descending upon him with a vengeful shriek. He hauled himself to his feet-Hood's rusted nails missing him by a whistling inch-and had taken three stumbling strides from Hood's shadow when he heard Lulu calling his name.

He veered in the direction of her voice, but Hood caught the collar of his jacket.

"Got you, little thief." he roared, dragging Harvey back into his splintery embrace.

Before Hood could catch better hold, however, Harvey threw back his arms and pitched himself forward. Off came the jacket, and he made a third dash for freedom, his eyes fixed on Lulu, who was beckoning him toward her.

She was standing on the edge of the lake, he realized, perched inches from the spinning waters. Surely she didn't imagine they could escape into the lake? The vortex would tear them limb from limb.

"We can't "he yelled to Lulu.

"We must!" she called back. "It's the only way!"

He was within three strides of her now. He could see her bare feet slithering and sliding on the slimy rock as she fought to keep her balance. He reached out for her, determined to snatch her from her perch before she fell, but her eyes weren't on him. They were on the monster at his back.

"Lulu!" he yelled to her. "Don't look!"

But her gaze was fixed upon Hood, her mouth agape, and Harvey couldn't help but glance back to see what fascinated her so.

Hood's pursuit had thrown his coat of rags into disarray, and there was something between its folds, he saw, darker than any night sky or lightless cellar. What was it? The essence of his magic, perhaps, guarding his loveless heart?

"Do you give up?" Hood said, driving Harvey back onto the rocks beside Lulu. "Surely you would not choose the vortex over me?"

"Go..." Harvey murmured to Lulu, his gaze still fixed on the mystery beneath Hood's coat.

He felt her hand grasp his for a moment. "It's the only way," she said. Then her fingers were gone, and he was standing on the rocks alone.

"If you choose the flood you will die horribly," Hood was saying. "It will spin you apart. Whereas I-" He extended an inviting hand to Harvey, stepping up onto the rock as he did so. " I offer you an easy death, rocked to sleep on a bed of illusions." He made a smile, and it was the foulest sight Harvey had ever seen. "Choose," he said.

Out of the corner of his eye Harvey glimpsed Lulu. She had not fled, as he'd thought; she'd simply gone to find a weapon. And she had one: a piece of timber dragged out of the rubble. It would be precious little use against Hood's enormity, Harvey knew, but he was glad not to be alone in these last moments.

He looked up at Hood's face:

"Maybe I should sleep-" he said.

The Vampire King smiled. "Wise little thief," he replied, opening his arms to invite the boy into his shadow.

Harvey took a step over the rock toward Hood, raising his hand as he did so. His face was reflected in the shattered mirrors of the vampire's eyes: two thieves in one head.

"Sleep," said Hood.

But Harvey had no intention of sleeping yet. Before Hood could stop him, he grabbed hold of the creature's coat and pulled. The scraps came away with a wet tearing sound, and Hood let out a howl of rage as he was uncovered.

There was no great enchantment at his heart. In fact, there was no heart at all. There was only a void-neither cold nor hot, living nor dead-made not of mystery but of nothingness. The illusionist's illusion.

Furious at this revelation, Hood let out another roar of rage, and reached down to reclaim the rags of his coat from the thief's hands. Harvey took a quick step backward, however, avoiding the fingers by a whisker. Hood came raging after him, his soles squealing on the rock, leaving Harvey with no choice but to retreat another step, until he had nowhere to go but the flood.

Again, Hood snatched at the filched rags, and would have had both coat and thief in one fatal grasp had Lulu not run at him from behind, swinging the timber like a baseball bat. She struck the back of Hood's knee so hard her weapon shattered, the impact pitching her to the ground.

The blow was not without effect, however. It threw Hood off balance, and he flailed wildly, the thunder of the vortex shaking the rock on which he and Harvey perched and threatening to toss them both into the maelstrom. Even now, Hood was determined to claim his rags back from Harvey, and conceal the void in him.

"Give me my coat, thief! " he howled.

"It's all yours!" Harvey yelled, and tossed the stolen rags toward the waters.

Hood lunged after them, and as he did so Harvey flung himself back toward solid ground. He heard Hood shriek behind him, and turned to see the Vampire King-the rags in his fist pitch headfirst into the frenzied waters.

The maned head surfaced a moment later, and Hood struck out for the bank, but strong as he was the vortex was stronger. It swept him away from the rocks, drawing him toward its center, where the waters were spiraling down into the earth.

In terror, he started to plead for assistance, his pitiful bargains only audible when the whirlpool carried him to the bank where Harvey and Lulu now stood.

"Thief!" he yelled. "Help me, and...I'll give you...the world! For...ever...and ever..."

Then the ferocity of the waters began to rip at his makeshift body, tearing out his nails and rattling out his teeth, washing away his mane of splinters, and shaking his limbs apart at the joints. Reduced to a living litter of flotsam and jetsam, he was drawn into the white waters at the whirlpool's heart, and shrieking with rage, went where all evil must go at last: into nothingness.

On the shore Harvey put his arms around Lulu, laughing and sobbing at the same time.

"We did it..." he said.

"Did what?" said a voice at their backs, and they looked around to see Wendell wandering toward them, blithe as ever. Every article of clothing he'd found in the rubble was either too large or too small.

"What's been going on?" he wanted to know. "What are you laughing at? What are you crying for?" He looked beyond Harvey and Lulu, in time to see the last fragments of Hood's body disappear with a fading howl. "And what was that?" he demanded.

Harvey wiped the tears from his cheeks, and got to his feet. At last, he had a purpose for Wendell's perpetual reply.

"Who cares?" he said.

XXVI

Living Proof

The wall of mist still hovered at the edge of Hood's domain, and it was there that the survivors gathered to say their farewells. None quite knew what adventures lay on the other side of the mist, of course. Each of the children had come into the House from a different year. Would they all find that age-give or take a month or two-awaiting them on the other side?

"Even if we don't get the stolen years back," Lulu said as they prepared to step into the mist, "we're free because of you, Harvey."

There were murmurs of thanks from the little crowd, and a few grateful tears.

"Say something," Wendell hissed to Harvey.

"Why?"

"Because you're a hero."

"I don't feel like one."

"So tell them that."

Harvey raised his hands to hush the murmurs. "I just want to say...we'll probably all forget about being here in a little while..." A few of the children said: no me won't; or, we'll always remember you. But Harvey insisted: "We will," he said. "We'll grow up and we'll forget. Unless..."

"Unless what?" asked Lulu.

"Unless we remind ourselves every morning. Or make a story of it, and tell everyone we meet."

"They won't believe us," said one of the children.

"That doesn't matter," said Harvey. "We'll know it's true, and that's what counts."

This met with approval from all sides.

"Now let's go home," said Harvey. "We've wasted too much time here already."

Wendell nudged him in the ribs as the group dispersed. "What about telling them you're not a hero?" he said.

"Oh, yeah," said Harvey with a mischievous smile. "I forgot about that."

The first of the children were already braving the wall of mist, eager to put the horrors of Hood's prison behind them as soon as possible. Harvey watched them fading with every step they took, and wished he'd had a moment to talk to them; to find out who they were and why they'd wandered into Hood's grip. Had they been orphans, with no other place to call home; or runaways, like Wendell and Lulu; or simply bored with their lives, the way he'd been bored, and seduced by illusions?

He would never know. They were disappearing one by one, until there was only Lulu, Wendell and himself left on the inside of the wall.

"Well," Wendell said to Harvey, "if time really is set to rights out there, then I'm going back a few more years than you."

"That's true."

"If we meet again, I'm going to be a lot older. You may not even know me."

"I'll know you," Harvey said.

"Promise?" said Wendell.

"I promise."

With that they shook hands, and Wendell made his departure into the mist. He was gone in three strides.

Lulu sighed heavily. "Have you ever wanted two things at the same time," she asked Harvey, "but you knew you couldn't have both of them?"

"Once or twice," said Harvey. "Why?"

"Because I'd like to grow up with you, and be your friend," she replied, "but I also want to go home. And I think in the year that's waiting for me on the other side of that wall, you haven't even been born."

Harvey nodded sadly, glancing back toward the ruins. "I guess we do have one thing to thank Hood for."

"What's that?"

"We were children together," he said, taking hold of her hand. "At least for a little while."

Lulu tried to smile, but her eyes were full of tears.

"Let's go together as far as we can," Harvey said.

"Yes, I'd like that," Lulu replied, and hand in hand they walked toward the wall. At the last moment before the mist eclipsed them they looked around at each other, and Harvey said: "Home..."

Then they stepped into the wall. For the first stride he felt Lulu's hand in his, but by the second stride it had grown faint, and by the third-when he stepped out into the street it and she had gone completely, delivered back into the time from which she'd stepped, all those seasons ago.

Harvey looked up at the sky. The sun had set, but its pinkish light still found the ribs of cloud laid high above him. The wind was gusty, and chilled the sweat of fear and exertion on his face and spine.

Teeth chattering, he started home through the darkening streets, uncertain what awaited him.

It was strange that after so many victories the simple business of walking home should defeat him, but defeat him it did. After an hour of wandering, his wits and strength which had preserved him from every terror Hood could conjure-failed him. His head began to spin, his legs buckled beneath him, and he fell down on the sidewalk, exhausted.

Luckily two passersby took pity on him, and gently asked him where he lived. It was dangerous, he vaguely recalled, to trust his life to total strangers, but he had no choice. All he could do was give himself over to their care, and hope that the world he'd returned to still had a little kindness in it.

He woke in darkness, and for one heartstopping moment he thought the black lake had claimed him after all, and he was down in its depths, a prisoner.

Crying out in terror he sat up, and to his infinite relief saw the window at the bottom of his bed, the curtains slightly parted, and heard the light patter of rain upon the sill. He was home.

He swung his legs out of bed and stood up. His whole body ached as though he'd gone ten rounds with a heavyweight boxer, but he was strong enough to hobble to the door and open it.

The sound of two familiar voices drifted up from the bottom of the stairs.

"I'm just happy he's home," he heard his mom say.

"So am I," said his dad. "But we need some explanations."

"We'll get them," his mom went on. "But we shouldn't push him too hard."

Clinging to the banisters as he went, Harvey started down the stairs, while his mom and dad continued to talk.

"We need to find out the truth quickly," his father said. "I mean, suppose he was involved with something criminal?"

"Not Harvey."

"Yes, Harvey. You saw the state of him. Blood and dirt all over him. He's not been out picking roses, that's for sure."

At the bottom of the stairs Harvey halted, a little afraid to face the truth. Had anything changed, or were the two people just out of sight still old and frail?

He went to the door and pushed it open. His mom and dad were standing with their backs to him at the window, staring out at the rain.

"Hello," he said.

They both turned at the same moment, and Harvey let out a whoop of joy to see that all the griefs and horrors of the House had not been endured in vain. Here was his prize, staring down at him: his mother and father, looking just the way they had before Rictus had come for him. The stolen years were back where they belonged, in his possession.

"I'm a good thief," he said, half to himself.

"Oh, my darling," said his mom, coming to him with open arms.

He hugged her first, then his dad.

"What have you been up to, son?" his dad wanted to know.

Harvey remembered how difficult it had been to explain everything last time; so instead of even trying he said: "I was just wandering around and I got lost. I didn't mean to get you upset."

"You said something about a thief."

"Did I?"

"You know you did," his dad said sternly.

"Well...are you a thief if you're taking something that belongs to you in the first place?" Harvey asked him.

His dad and mom exchanged puzzled looks.

"No, honey," his mom said. "Of course not."

"Then I'm not a thief," Harvey replied.

"I think you owe both of us the truth, Harvey," his mom said. "We want to know everything."

"Everything?"

"Everything," said his dad.

So he told them the whole tale, just as they'd asked, right from the beginning, and if their expressions had been doubtful the last time he'd related his adventures, they were incredulous now.

"Do you really expect us to believe all of this?" his father broke in while Harvey was talking about meeting Hood in the attic.

"I can take you to the House," Harvey said. "Or what's left of it. I couldn't find it last time, because it hid itself from grown-ups. But Hood's gone, so there's no magic left to hide it with."

Once again his mom and dad exchanged baffled looks.

"If you can find this Hood-House," his father said, "we'd both like to see it."

They set out early the following day, and this time-just as Harvey had expected-the way back to the House was not concealed by magic. He found the streets that Rictus had first led him along easily enough, and very soon the gentle slope on which the House had once stood came into view.

"That's it," he said to his mom and dad. "The House stood there."

"It's just a hill, Harvey," his dad said. "A hill covered in grass."

It was indeed a surprise to see that the ground on which so many terrible deeds had been done had greened so quickly.

"It all looks rather pretty," his mom said as they came to the place where the mist wall had stood.

"The ruins are under there, I swear," Harvey said, venturing onto the slope. "I'll show you. Come on."

They weren't the only visitors here today. There were several kite-flyers plying the wind at the top of the ridge; a dozen or more dogs romping around; children laughing as they rolled down the slope; even a pair of lovers, whispering in each other's ears.

Harvey resented the presence of all these people. How dare they romp and laugh and fly their kites here, he thought, as though it were just another hill? He wanted to tell them all that they were cavorting on the ruins of a vampire's house, and see how quickly that wiped the smiles off their faces.

But then, he thought, perhaps it was better this way; better that the hill not be haunted by rumors and stories. The name of Hood would probably never cross the lips of these lovers and kite-flyers, and why should it? His evil had no place in happy hearts.

"Well?" said Harvey's dad as the three of them climbed the slope. "This House of yours is well buried."

Harvey went down on his haunches and dug at the dirt with his bare hands. The ground was soft, and gave off the sweet smell of fertility.

"Strange, isn't it?" said a voice.

He looked up from his labors, both his fists full of dirt. A man a little older than his father was standing a few yards from him, smiling.

"What are you talking about?" Harvey asked.

"The flowers. The ground," he said. "Maybe the earth has its own magic-good magic, I mean-and it's buried Hood's memory forever."

"You know about Hood?" Harvey said.

The man nodded. "Oh yes."

"What exactly do you know?" Harvey's mom asked. "Our son here's been telling us such strange stories..."

"They're all true," the man said.

"You haven't even heard them," Harvey's dad replied.

"You should trust your boy," the man said. "I have it on the best authority that he's a hero."

Harvey's dad stared at his son with a twitch of a smile on his face. "Really?" he said. "Were you one of Hood's prisoners?"

"Not me," the man said.

"Then how do you know?"

The man glanced over his shoulder, and there at the bottom of the slope stood a woman in a white dress.

Harvey studied this stranger, trying to make out her face, but her wide-brimmed hat kept her features in shadow. He started to get to his feet, intending to take a closer look, but the man said: "Don't...please. She sent me in her place, just to say hello. She remembers you the way you are young, that is-and she'd like you to remember her the same way."

"Lulu..." Harvey murmured.

The man neither confirmed nor denied this. He simply said to Harvey: "I am much obliged to you, young man. I hope to be as fine a husband to her as you were a friend."

"Husband?" Harvey mouthed.

"How time flies," the man said, consulting his watch. "We're late for lunch. May I shake your hand, young sir?"

"It's dirty," Harvey warned, letting the earth run between the fingers of his right hand.

"What could be better between us," the man replied with a smile, "than this...healing earth?"

He took Harvey's hand, shook it, and with a nod to Harvey's mom and dad hurried back down the slope.

Harvey watched as he spoke to the woman in the white dress; saw her nod; saw her smile in his direction. Then they were both gone, out into the street and away.

"Well..." said Harvey's dad, "...it seems your Mr. Hood existed after all."

"So you believe me?" Harvey asked.

"Something happened here," came the reply, "and you were a hero. I believe that."

"Then that's enough," said Harvey's mom. "You don't have to keep digging, sweetie. Whatever's under there should stay buried."

Harvey was about to empty his left hand of dirt when his dad said: "Let me have that," and opened his hand.

"Really?" said Harvey.

"I've heard a little good magic's always useful," came his father's reply. "Isn't that right?"

Harvey smiled, and poured a fistful of earth into his father's palm.

"Always," he said.

The days that followed were unlike any Harvey had ever known. Though there was no more talk of Hood, or of the House, or of the green hill upon which it had once stood, the subject was a part of every look and laugh that passed between him and his parents.

He knew they had only the vaguest sense of what had happened to them, but they were all three agreed on one thing: that it was fine to be together again.

Time would be precious from now on. It would tick by, of course, as it always had, but Harvey was determined he wouldn't waste it with sighs and complaints. He'd fill every moment with the seasons he'd found in his heart: hopes like birds on a spring branch; happiness like a warm summer sun; magic like the rising mists of autumn. And best of all, love; love enough for a thousand Christmases.