Kiyoshi-chan. "Gardens that are supposed to be bigger on the inside than they are on the outside?"
"I don't know," said Annie. "I never really thought about it. I don't think most people in other countries have a philosophy of gardening, like the Japanese do. Most people just garden according to what seems nicest to look at."
Kiyoshi-chan's old
obaa-san
poked her white head out the door and looked with friendly curiosity at the children in the yard. Moving very slowly, she slid the door shut and shuffled down off the porch toward them. The children stood up and bowed to her, as she smiled and bobbed at them. Her face was as wrinkled as a dried peach. She moved away, pottering meaninglessly.
"She's very beautiful," said Annie.
Kiyoshi-chan gaped at her. "Beautiful?" he said. "How can you call my grandmother
beautiful?
Did you use the wrong word?"
"No," said Annie. "I used just the right word. She is more beautiful than almost anyone I ever saw. I can't explain why exactly. In some people the years add up differently than in others. You can see at one look how hard she's had to work all her life, but there's no sourness in her at all."
"It's true that she's had a hard life," said Kiyoshi-chan. "So many wars. She had an older brother who died fighting the Russians."
"The Russians?" said Knuckleball. "I don't picture the Japanese fighting the Russians. You mean in World War II?"
"No," said Kiyoshi-chan. "I mean in the old war with the Russians."
Annie looked at Knuckleball, who was puzzled. "Nineteen-oh-four, Knuckler," she said, then wished she hadn't, as she saw him look hard at the old woman again.
"No
way
" he said. "She's not
that
old."
"Well," said Annie, quickly, "back to the gardens. What else do we know?"
"We know we can't go back the way we've come," said Knuckleball. "The gateways seem to close up as soon as we come out of them."
"Do we know that for sure?" asked Annie. "Have we really tried it? Why, Kiyoshi-chan saw Little Harriet come right out of this garden and then dive right back in."
"That's true," said Knuckleball. "I didn't even
think
of that. I hate when I don't think of things."
"Maybe I dreamed it," said Kiyoshi-chan.
"What else do we know?" asked Annie. "Think hard."
They squatted on their heels and thought hard, while Kiyoshi-chan watched them. Brown house sparrows hopped around the branches of a budding cherry tree over their heads. Knuckleball took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes to concentrate, while Annie stared at a particular knot in the twine that tied the bamboo fence together.
"Nothing," admitted Knuckleball at last. "We know nothing else. We've just been blindly stumbling our way along after Little Harriet. We can't possibly figure out
how to control these gardens, or to choose where we go. They take us wherever they want. And so far they've wanted to take us wherever Little Harriet went."
"Until last time," said Annie. "Then only two of us, and now we've lost her. I thought this garden might be the key, but if it's a gateway it's obviously closed." She stood up and stamped her foot on the very spot where Kiyoshi-chan said he had seen Little Harriet dive into the earth. A little cloud of dust poofed out around her shoe.
"Listen," said Knuckleball. "Maybe it has something to do with the person, not the garden. Maybe there's something about
Little Harriet
that opens the passages between gardens. She was the first one to have a garden open up to her, there in Boston."
"Maybe," agreed Annie. "Maybe that's why the oni is lugging her around with him. Maybe she's like a
key
."
If there wasn't such a sadness always in them about their little lost sister, they might have smiled at the mental picture of the demon warrior sticking Little Harriet in a door lock and turning her like a key. No one smiled now.
"Maybe she was his key, you mean," said Knuckleball. "He seems to have lost her now, or she got away, or something."
"And maybe we didn't stay close enough to her. Maybe
"I don't know," said Annie. "I never really thought about it. I don't think most people in other countries have a philosophy of gardening, like the Japanese do. Most people just garden according to what seems nicest to look at."
Kiyoshi-chan's old
obaa-san
poked her white head out the door and looked with friendly curiosity at the children in the yard. Moving very slowly, she slid the door shut and shuffled down off the porch toward them. The children stood up and bowed to her, as she smiled and bobbed at them. Her face was as wrinkled as a dried peach. She moved away, pottering meaninglessly.
"She's very beautiful," said Annie.
Kiyoshi-chan gaped at her. "Beautiful?" he said. "How can you call my grandmother
beautiful?
Did you use the wrong word?"
"No," said Annie. "I used just the right word. She is more beautiful than almost anyone I ever saw. I can't explain why exactly. In some people the years add up differently than in others. You can see at one look how hard she's had to work all her life, but there's no sourness in her at all."
"It's true that she's had a hard life," said Kiyoshi-chan. "So many wars. She had an older brother who died fighting the Russians."
"The Russians?" said Knuckleball. "I don't picture the Japanese fighting the Russians. You mean in World War II?"
"No," said Kiyoshi-chan. "I mean in the old war with the Russians."
Annie looked at Knuckleball, who was puzzled. "Nineteen-oh-four, Knuckler," she said, then wished she hadn't, as she saw him look hard at the old woman again.
"No
way
" he said. "She's not
that
old."
"Well," said Annie, quickly, "back to the gardens. What else do we know?"
"We know we can't go back the way we've come," said Knuckleball. "The gateways seem to close up as soon as we come out of them."
"Do we know that for sure?" asked Annie. "Have we really tried it? Why, Kiyoshi-chan saw Little Harriet come right out of this garden and then dive right back in."
"That's true," said Knuckleball. "I didn't even
think
of that. I hate when I don't think of things."
"Maybe I dreamed it," said Kiyoshi-chan.
"What else do we know?" asked Annie. "Think hard."
They squatted on their heels and thought hard, while Kiyoshi-chan watched them. Brown house sparrows hopped around the branches of a budding cherry tree over their heads. Knuckleball took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes to concentrate, while Annie stared at a particular knot in the twine that tied the bamboo fence together.
"Nothing," admitted Knuckleball at last. "We know nothing else. We've just been blindly stumbling our way along after Little Harriet. We can't possibly figure out
how to control these gardens, or to choose where we go. They take us wherever they want. And so far they've wanted to take us wherever Little Harriet went."
"Until last time," said Annie. "Then only two of us, and now we've lost her. I thought this garden might be the key, but if it's a gateway it's obviously closed." She stood up and stamped her foot on the very spot where Kiyoshi-chan said he had seen Little Harriet dive into the earth. A little cloud of dust poofed out around her shoe.
"Listen," said Knuckleball. "Maybe it has something to do with the person, not the garden. Maybe there's something about
Little Harriet
that opens the passages between gardens. She was the first one to have a garden open up to her, there in Boston."
"Maybe," agreed Annie. "Maybe that's why the oni is lugging her around with him. Maybe she's like a
key
."
If there wasn't such a sadness always in them about their little lost sister, they might have smiled at the mental picture of the demon warrior sticking Little Harriet in a door lock and turning her like a key. No one smiled now.
"Maybe she was his key, you mean," said Knuckleball. "He seems to have lost her now, or she got away, or something."
"And maybe we didn't stay close enough to her. Maybe
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