Moments later the horses clopped down the street, gently jostling us back and forth. Hudson shifted the curtain to see if anyone followed us. “I hope your gift doesn’t come back to bite us. If the knights find out about the golden acorn, they’ll know which way we’re headed, how we’re dressed, and that we’ve got a baby with us.” 295/356

He was right, but I didn’t regret what I’d done. “What’s the point in having this enchantment if I don’t help people who deserve it?

That’s worth the risk, isn’t it?”

I didn’t think he would agree, but his gaze rested on me and his expression softened. “Yeah. Some things are worth the risk.” It may have been the gentle tone of his voice, or the way his eyes held mine, but I felt he meant me, that he was saying I was worth the risk. And the sentence warmed me in a way I hadn’t expected.

“You’re into me,” I said. “I can tell.” He smiled and didn’t deny it.

“Of course you might still like Sister Mary Theresa better …”

“Well, I might if she weren’t a nun and about fifty years old.” Hudson looked at the ceiling, contemplating the matter. “It’s a close call, but you still have all your teeth.”

“In that case, I win.”

“You win.”

I switched benches so I sat next to him, and he put his arm around me. It felt so comfortable. So right. We sat that way for a long time, talking and keeping the baby entertained.

At one point, while Hudson was holding Junior-Edward-Stetson, I said, “Would you forgive him if someday he grows up and goes to the wrong kind of party?”

Hudson nodded. “Yeah.”

“Even if he called the party to warn them it was about to be busted?”

He nodded again, slowly this time.

“Your dad still loves you. I think the only person who’s not forgiv-ing you is you.”

He didn’t say anything about that. He just held the baby closer.

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A while later when the baby went to sleep, I took out the magic book again. Some things are worth the risk. It was a moral. Probably not the one the book wanted, but another one that had written itself onto my heart. It was worth the risk to trust people. And to let people back into your heart. And to love new people.

When Clover first gave me the magic book, I had worried I wouldn’t be able to think of a moral for the story. Now I couldn’t turn around without bumping into one. They were hanging in the air in front of me, waiting for me to snatch them. Had these truths always been there and I just hadn’t ever seen them before?

Some things are worth the risk.

The gold ink glimmered and disappeared. I shut the book and flicked the cover angrily. “I don’t care what you say; I think that’s the moral of the story.”

The book didn’t respond.

“Stupid book.” I was talking to inanimate objects again. My pathetic-o-meter numbers were probably skyrocketing. I shut my eyes and tried to think of more morals. I had learned so much I was already brimming with self-realization. What else could I possibly take from this experience? Words tumbled around my mind to the rhythm of the jiggling carriage, and I drifted off to sleep.

• • •

I woke up to Hudson’s voice, speaking into the walkie-talkie. “Can you hear me? Out.”

I sat up and tried to orient myself. The carriage was going slowly now. Only dim light and cool air drifted through the windows. It was nearly night. The baby sat on Hudson’s knee, grabbing for the walkie-talkie, while Hudson held it out of his reach.

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I waited to hear if my father would answer Hudson’s question.

Only static came through the speakers. “Are we to the meeting point?” I asked.

“We’re close. We might have to wait for an hour before they respond though.”

I knew this. I had been there when Hudson told my father to turn on his walkie-talkie for five minutes every hour. Still, the static filled me with dread. What if something had happened to my family? King John’s men had been looking for me. What if they found Robin Hood’s camp instead? Would they have killed everyone on the spot for being with bandits?

I didn’t want to think about that possibility, but it hovered, unin-vited, in my mind.

Then my father’s voice came on the line, “Where are you? Are you all right?”

Relief washed over me. He was there.

“We’re fine,” Hudson said. “We’ve got the wizard with us.” My father gave Hudson directions to their hiding spot, and then Hudson banged the hilt of his sword against the roof as a signal to Bartimaeus to stop the carriage. Once it halted, Hudson went outside to give directions to the wizard, and I talked to my father on the walkie-talkie. It felt like so much longer than two days since I’d seen him.

“You’re all right?” he asked again.

“Yes, and I’m bringing a surprise.”

“A good surprise, I hope. I’m not sure how many more bad surprises I can handle.”

I held the walkie-talkie away from the baby’s curious hands.

Would my father consider me showing up to camp with my infant son a good thing or a bad thing? “It’s a very cute surprise,” I said.

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Junior-Stetson-Edward gurgled out a stream of umba, umba sounds and reached his chubby fingers toward the walkie-talkie.

“What did you say?” my father asked. “I didn’t catch that last part.”

I didn’t want to explain, so I changed the subject. “It’s lucky Hudson got ahold of you right away.”

“It wasn’t luck,” my father said. “I never turned off my walkie-talkie.”

I shifted the baby in my arms. “I thought you were supposed to conserve batteries.”

“I brought plenty of extras from the house, and I wanted to make sure I heard you whenever you called.” I didn’t say anything for a moment. Perhaps I was just overtired and emotional, but tears filled my eyes. My father had kept the walkie-talkie near him and on, waiting for word from us, waiting for me to come within range.

“Are you still there?” he asked.

“Yes, I’m here.” I leaned the walkie-talkie against my cheek. “I’ll be back soon. I love you, Dad.”

“I love you too,” he said.

Hudson climbed back into the carriage, and we trundled down the street again. He told my dad we were on our way, then switched the walkie-talkie off. “When we get to the turnoff, I’ll go alone to camp,” he said. “The wizard doesn’t want to walk into unknown parts of the forest, so he’s staying with the carriage. You should stay too. Less temptation for bandits that way.” Hudson fingered the walkie-talkie, thinking. “I hope they don’t get any ideas about holding your family ransom for more gold.”

I didn’t want to believe Hudson’s suspicions, but it was best to be prepared for the worst. “I’ll go with you partway and change some 299/356

things into gold along the path. You can tell Robin Hood it’s my gift to them. Maybe a bird in the hand will be worth two in the bush—at least if it’s a big, golden bird.”

Hudson nodded. “Good idea. Maybe they’ll care more about moving and hiding their new stash than about keeping your family from leaving. And if that doesn’t work—we’ll ask the wizard to turn them in-to hedgehogs.”

I wasn’t sure if Hudson was serious about that, but he got a satisfied look on his face, as though already picturing it.

Eventually, the carriage left the main road and wobbled over bumps and juts until it came to a stop.

I put the baby in his sling, debated for a moment whether it would be safer to leave the magic book in the carriage, then slipped it into the diaper bag and took it with me. I didn’t want to risk its safety.

Bartimaeus had suspended some sort of magic lights in front of the horses, but beyond those, the forest was a patchwork of shadows.

Hudson and I followed the path into it. He carried his sword in one hand and the flashlight in the other. Since I was going back to the carriage soon, I followed Hudson, holding a candle. I kept my hand in front of the flame to keep it from blowing out.