At first, most of the days were the same as the first.
Maria got out of bed, and got dressed with Isabel's
help. Eventually, she was able to do some of it, then
most of it, and finally all of it, by herself. She
learned to tolerate the oatmeal, but was still
squeamish about the radishes. And every day, she
went out.
Going outside was the best thing she could have done.
The air did things. She stopped being so scrawny.
Her hair lightened up to a golden shade of blonde, and
started to curl in adorable ringlets. She stopped
being such a scrawny little thing, and became a pretty
little girl. Her eyes were no longer dull, and her
cheeks had the most adorable shade of pink to them.
Maria spent time searching for the garden. But there
wasn't a way into it. But there must have been ten
years ago, for Mr. Valenti to bury the key and lock
the garden, right?
Maria liked to be around Isabel, to hear her playful
chatter.
"Why did Mr. Valenti hate the garden?" Maria asked
her one day.
"So you're thinking about the garden, huh? I knew you
would be."
"Why did he hate it?" Maria persisted.
Isabel sighed. "I'm not supposed to talk about it.
There's a lot of things here that I'm not supposed to
talk about. The garden was Mrs. Valenti's. He had it
built for her when they were married. She loved the
flowers, and would never let Riverdog touch them. She
took care of them all by herself. There was a swing
she loved in there, made of an overgrown branch. She
fell off it one day, and then she died. That's why
it's locked up."
Isabel left, and Maria sunk back on the pillows. The
wind was fierce outside, one of the desert wind
storms, as Isabel had called them.
And then she began to hear something else.
It was a curious sound- it almost sounded like a child
was crying somewhere.
She called out for Isabel. "There's someone crying!"
Maria exclaimed.
"Now there, you're just hearing things." Isabel said,
and locked the door on her way out.
Soon afterwards, the crying stopped.
"Someone was crying." Maria said when Isabel returned.
"It was the wind. And if it wasn't it was Pierce, the
cook. He's had a toothache all day long."
Maria didn't believe Isabel.