Free A Walk Through a Window by KC Dyer Page A

even want to think about what she had just been through. How long had she been gone? Had the police been looking for her?
    Darby felt a weird pang of guilt. Poor Nan. She must be out of her mind with worry. But it was so hard to think with her head pounding. She wished with all her heart to be home in Toronto, but she also knew Nan would know what to do. Nan had brought up Darby’s dad and his brothers, and being the mother to three boys meant she had probably seen enough cracked skulls to know what one looked like. Darby just had to get to her, first.
    As she stood up, Maurice leaped through the garden toward the front of the house. By the time Darby had staggered around there, she could see him zipping through the rusted gate and heading for home. She followed, moving pretty slowly. Every step jarred her head and the red late-afternoon light was making her feel nauseated again.
    Nan met her at the door. “Have you been chasing Maurice, Darby? He’s all worked up,” Nan began, but her words died on her lips when she got a look at Darby’s face. “What’s the matter, dear?”
    Darby dropped her board on the front porch with a clatter that made her wince. Not one word about how she had been gone for two days. Nan was just upset about the cat? A pain was stabbing through the back of Darby’s right eye and she couldn’t think anymore. She muttered something about hitting her head and before she knew it, Nan had her wrapped in a comforter on the couch in the living room with a cold cloth over her eyes.
    And once again—she was gone.

    Darby woke up sometime later to find Nan standing beside her spot on the couch with a strange man. Before she had a chance to say a word, Nan explained he was a doctor who lived across the street. The guy was wearing shorts and an apron splashed with barbecue sauce. Nan must have pulled him away from his dinner.
    She stayed in her spot on the couch and listened to them talking beside the door.
    “Are you sure she’s going to be all right, Brian?” Nan said, her voice worried.
    The screen door creaked on its hinges. “I really don’t think you have any cause for concern, Etta,” he said, in what Darby recognized as the reassuring tone doctors always use. “There is no sign of physical trauma. She’s at the right age for getting a migraine—teenage hormones often play a big part. Migraines are terrible things, but they don’t cause any lasting damage and they are more common than you might think. Just bring her along to my office tomorrow when she’s feeling better and we’ll do a couple of standard tests.”
    The door slapped behind him, but only after Nan pushed a home-made apple pie into his hands.
    Darby couldn’t imagine her own mother ever giving a doctor an apple pie. Darby wasn’t even sure her mom knew how to bake. But then again, she’d never heard of a doctor who would do a house call in Toronto, especially wearing an apron that said “Kiss the Cook.”
    After he left, Nan helped Darby upstairs to her room. Darby was surprised to find Gramps sitting on her bed. He waited until she was finished in the bathroom and hadher pyjamas on, and then he tucked her in and kissed her on the forehead.
    “Goodnight, kiddo. Sleep well.” That was it. He left and Darby heard him walking down the stairs, talking to Nan.
    It felt weird—but in a nice way. And at least he hadn’t called her Allie.

    The next morning, the first thing Darby saw was her school journal sitting on the table beside her bed. Her clock said it was only 6:30. No need to go downstairs just yet. When she sat up, she found her head wasn’t hurting at all anymore. In fact, she felt pretty good. She grabbed the journal, intending to write just a line or two to eliminate any feeling of homework guilt she might have—not that she had much. She started to write what she could remember about the people in the snow house. It might have been a hallucination, but it was pretty interesting all the same.
    Her memory