Heart of The Tree - 1. Part I - Who Is The Heart? Chapter 1

Mia Chou hit the speed-dial for one of her friends.

“It’s 2005. You know what to do.”

She grimaced. Either Rhys was on the phone or he had his mobile switched off. She waited for the beep.

“Rhys, it’s Mia. Meet me at The Tree as soon as possible. Someone died there this morning.”

She hit the ‘end’ button, then glared indiscriminately around the street while wondering what to do. The children playing in the park on the other side of the road were oblivious to her frustration, and to the excitement nearby.

She’d been told to find out what was going on, but she didn’t feel confident enough to do that by herself. While she considered which of her other friends might be free to help, a familiar grey ute drove past and pulled up outside the hardware store at the far end of the street.

She started jogging towards it but dropped back to a walk when she realised there was no point arriving sweaty and out of breath. It was early in the day, but the air was already hot enough to make her uncomfortable. The drought-stricken trees along the way provided little relief from the sun.

A few minutes later, she walked into the shop. She paused in pleasure at the relief from the heat, then started to look around.

“Did you hear the news?” Mia asked as soon as she spotted Vincent Aster.

“What news?” Vince asked, his concentration on the pile of assorted odds and ends that he was placing on the bench next to the cash register.

“They found a body under The Tree!”

“What?” Vince asked, his head snapping up in surprise. His eyes were as wide as the curls in his auburn hair. Mia smiled at having managed to get a reaction from her normally calm friend.

“That’s right, Vincent,” Mr. Landeau said from behind the counter. “They found him just after first light. Mary Stokes was taking her kids to play in the park when she saw him. Her scream must’ve been heard by everyone in town.” He shook his head at the memory.

“Just as well we live out of town, then,” Vince replied, recovering his composure. “Dad doesn’t like screaming.”

“Well, come on,” Mia said as she grabbed Vince’s hand. “Let’s go see what’s going on!”

Smiling, Vince jerked his hand free.

“I can’t. I’ve got to get these things back to my dad. We’ve got a lot of work to do. That last storm did a lot of damage and we need to fix it before the cattle get out.”

Mia was miffed. “Surely you can spare a few minutes?”

“Maybe, once I’ve put everything in the ute,” Vince said, turning his attention back to Mr. Landeau. “I’ve got to do that, first.”

“Don’t take all day,” Mia said. Her left foot started tapping as she crossed her arms and waited for her friend. She didn’t realise how her impatient appearance was enhanced by the exotic cast she’d inherited from her Chinese father.

“Why aren’t you working?” Vince asked her as he handed his credit card to Mr. Landeau.

“Aunt Cynthia kicked me out of the shop and told me to find out everything I can.”

Mia made a face as she remembered how there had been something unsettling about the way the old woman had practically shoved her out the door.

“Really?” Vince asked, pausing before signing the credit slip. “Why would she do that?”

Mia frowned. “I don’t know,” she said. “She seemed worried about something.”

“Your grandmother worries about anything to do with The Tree. She sometimes acts like she owns it, or is its guardian,” Mr. Landeau said, his grey beard and smile reminding Mia of the Santa role the hardware store owner played every year.

Mia’s grandmother often acted as if The Tree was her private property that she graciously allowed others to use. Everyone in town let her get away with it, just like everyone called her Aunt Cynthia, even her own grandchildren. Aunt Cynthia was the town’s eccentric old lady, loved by everyone, and loving everyone in return. If letting her “own” The Tree was enough to keep her happy, then that was what everyone did.

“Come on,” Mia said as soon as Vince was finished. She grabbed him by the arm and tried to pull him towards the door.

“I have to put everything in the back of the ute, first,” Vince replied, trying to keep a straight face, but failing at Mia’s eagerness.

“Alex and I will do that for you, Vincent,” Mr. Landeau said, waving to his son to come over. “You’d better get going before she has a heart attack.”

Mia was happy that Vince was going with her. In many ways he was her closest friend. Both sets of parents had made subtle comments about marriage at various times, but she and Vince liked to keep things at the “just friends” level. Neither of them felt that they needed to take things further than that.

That didn’t stop them from playing games with each other. As they walked to the centre square where The Tree was located, Vince used his lanky legs to make his much-shorter friend jog along beside him, her long, black hair trailing behind her like a silken scarf.

“No one knows who he is,” she said between breaths. “Some are guessing he arrived on last night’s train.”

“Could be, but we’ll find out soon enough,” Vince said. “Most strangers show up after the weekly train.”

With Mourton at the end of the line, the service had deteriorated to a train a week, combining passenger and freight, arriving on the Sunday night and leaving again on the Monday night. Extra trains were run at select times, such as when the grapes were being harvested, but many of the town’s activities were organised around the weekly schedule.

“It’s a bit early, though. Most schools are still going. It’s only us year 12 students and some unis that have finished. The summer holiday crowd isn’t due to start for another couple of weeks.”

“How old is he?” Vince asked when they got to the edge of the central square. A sign proclaiming it to be Memorial Park was ignored by both. Dominated by the presence of The Tree, which was only one of a number, the park was known to the locals as Lovers’ Park, or just The Park.

“Youngish, I heard. Maybe our age or a bit older,” Mia said.

A crowd of the curious was already gathered at one side of The Tree. An ambulance was parked nearby.

“Please keep back, everyone!” a tired voice yelled.

Vince smiled as they slowed to a casual walk. “Sounds like Rhys’s dad is having a rough morning.”

Mia laughed as she linked arms with her friend. Now that he wasn’t rushing ahead, she could catch her breath. She drew a hand across her forehead to wipe away the sweat. Taking revenge for being made to jog, she rubbed her hand dry on Vince’s shirt. He looked outraged for a moment, but then grinned as he accepted the rebuke.

“Being the senior cop in town, he doesn’t have a lot of choice. This isn’t your run-of-the-mill event,” she said.

Both their smiles faded as they thought about it. A mysterious, dead body wasn’t a laughing matter, even if it broke up the monotony of ordinary life.

They reached the edge of the crowd in time to see an ambulance trolley being loaded with a body bag. The watching crowd, standing behind a line of hastily erected tape, was subdued. Many were silent, and only whispers came from the rest. Senior Sergeant Dresden rubbed his balding head as he supervised the two constables scanning the area and taking photos. His policeman’s cap was lying on the roof of the nearby patrol car.

Mia shivered. For the first time in her memory, the canopy of The Tree had an ominous feel. Instead of giving a comforting embrace, The Tree was looming, casting eerie shadows instead of cooling shade.

Everyone’s attention was drawn to the sound of a motorbike being ridden at well over the speed limit, and then to the squeal of tyres as it pulled up at the edge of the park.

“Rhys has arrived,” Vince said, smiling wryly.

The rider took off his helmet and shook his head to release a coal-black ponytail that reached down between his shoulder blades; a ponytail that Vince and Mia knew annoyed Rhys’s dad. The peroxide-blonde strip down the middle was calculated to push that annoyance to the limit. His shirt, with the slogan “COOL AS FCUK,” added to the overall image of teenage rebellion.

“He likes to make an entrance,” Mia replied, secretly pleased by the distraction. “Come on,” she added, using their friend as her excuse to escape from The Tree.

“RHYS!” Senior Sergeant Dresden’s face went red with rage.

“Do you think he’s in trouble again?” Mia asked Vince as they headed over.

“That depends. Has he stopped being in trouble from last time?”

With the ease of years of practise, Senior Sergeant Dresden was reading the riot act to his son. Rhys just looked wide-eyed back at his dad, the perfect picture of innocence.

“...Now give me the keys!”

“But you can’t confiscate my bike for that!” Rhys said, surprised at the demand. He was suddenly uncertain. That was not the way things normally went.

“As a cop, no. As your dad, yes I can. Now hand them over, or I start writing charges. I’m sure I can come up with enough to keep you off the road for at least a year.”

Mia couldn’t help grinning. Rhys normally perfectly rode the line between a minor infraction and a major misdemeanour, but he’d gone too far. When he dropped the keys into his dad’s outstretched hand without further comment, Mia could tell that Rhys knew it, too. How long it would take before he got them back remained to be seen, but Rhys had suffered a rare loss in his ongoing duel with his dad.

After his dad had headed back to where his subordinates were working, Rhys turned to his friends.

“How do you like that? Dad didn’t even bother asking if I had a reason for speeding!”

“I think your dad is a bit stressed out over a certain dead body,” Mia replied.

Rhys dropped his hurt-innocent tone and turned to Mia, eager for the gossip.

“Who was it? What do you know?”

Mia shrugged. “No one I’ve spoken to knows. It seems to be a complete stranger.”

She looked in the direction of Rhys’s dad. “Aunt Cynthia had a question she wanted me to ask.”

She headed to where the police were working. The two boys quickly caught up with her and the three slipped under the tape that kept the crowd away.

“Excuse me, sir, but Aunt Cynthia wants me to ask something,” Mia said, once she reached the policeman.

Senior Sergeant Dresden looked down at the diminutive young girl. His eyes flicked over the two boys before he returned his attention to Mia.

“For Aunt Cynthia, okay,” he said. His shoulders fell and his face looked haggard.

“She wants to know if there is any indication of the cause of death,” Mia said.

The sergeant was startled by the unexpected query. Lifting a hand to scratch his head, he stared at her while he considered how he would answer.

“Now that’s an interesting question. We’ll need to wait for an autopsy, but there doesn’t seem to be any reason. If he were older, I’d say it might’ve been a heart attack, but he looked young and healthy. Last night wasn’t cold enough for hypothermia, and there aren’t any obvious needle marks. Sorry, Mia, but you’ll have to tell Aunt Cynthia that I have no idea.”

“Are you okay, Dad?” Rhys asked.

His dad looked back at him blankly for a moment before straightening up and putting on a stern mask.

“Of course I am! Now, get along. We have work to do here. We need everything finished quickly. The last thing we want is to delay your sister’s wedding this Saturday. Your mum would kill me.”

With that clear dismissal, the three teenagers headed off.

“Come on. Let’s tell Aunt Cynthia what’s going on,” Mia said.

“Sounds fine to me,” Rhys replied, though he couldn’t help looking back at his father. He was worried about how worn-out his dad had seemed.

“Don’t worry, Rhys. Your dad will have it all sorted out and the place cleaned up well before Joanna’s wedding. Which reminds me, who are you taking?” Vince asked.

They strolled around the outskirts of The Tree on the way to Aunt Cynthia’s store.

“I’m taking Padma. Otherwise, I think she’d miss out. Dad’s been getting a bit concerned about how many people will be attending.”

“Good on you,” Mia said, giving Rhys a smile. “With her two brothers away for the last couple of years, I think she’s been lonely at home.”

“The fact that she’s one of the best-looking girls in town is just an added bonus, right, Rhys?”

Vince blissfully ignored the daggers that Mia threw in his direction. They all knew that Padma was a rare beauty, with a delightfully self-effacing personality. However, Mia thought it was incredibly rude of Vince to imply that she wasn’t anywhere near as attractive as Padma.

“Dad will have to organise vegetarian meals for the two of us, which annoyed him when he realised,” Rhys said.

“But you’re not a vegetarian.”

Rhys gave Mia a look as if he expected better of her. “Do you really think I’ll sit next to Padma and let her lecture me about eating meat products if I have a choice?”

Mia and Vince chuckled. If Padma Kharaba had one annoying trait, it was her intense dislike for killing animals. She and Vince had a tacit truce on discussing his farm; she liked Vince, but couldn’t stand that his family made a living off selling cattle for slaughter.

The conversation ended when they reached The Treasure Chest. On the edge of the square, the knick-knack and antique store was situated next to the town's most popular coffee shop. Except for summer when the tourists swarmed in, the two businesses were relatively quiet during most of the year. The local youth, however, were constantly hanging out at the coffee shop or dropping in to chat with Aunt Cynthia . Despite her age, she was able to chat with anyone. It was like she was just a big kid at heart and could relate to all ages.

When the teens entered the store, Mia moved confidently through the gloom. Because the shop was filled with assorted antiques, collections of models, odd pieces of old farm machinery, the occasional potbelly stove and boxes of what the undiscerning would call junk, it was not a place to go blindly barging through. Someone who worked there regularly, like Mia, could be at ease in the half-dark, but everyone else had to wait until their eyes had adjusted from the bright outside light.

“Aunt Cynthia!” Mia called as she reached the back of the main section.

A door opened and a short, wrinkled old lady appeared. Not much taller than her granddaughter, she strode through the main part of the shop and over to a heavy oaken desk. After lowering herself into the hand-carved chair behind the desk, she waved a hand at the youngsters to take the nearby matching chairs.

“What news do you have, dear?”

Mia frowned, feeling the same uneasiness she’d experienced when her grandmother had sent her out, earlier. The cheerful chuckle with which Aunt Cynthia normally spoke was missing. If anything, the old woman sounded desperate.

“No one knows who he is. The best guess is that he came in on last night’s train,” Mia said, dropping into one of the chairs.

Rhys sat down next to Mia as Vince took his usual spot on an old tractor seat that was resting in a pile of ancient farm equipment – the place he’d always claimed was the best for a farm boy like him.

“And how did he die?”

Aunt Cynthia had leant forward, almost desperately, as she’d asked that question. It was as if the answer was of critical importance.

“They don’t know,” Rhys answered. He sounded perplexed, as he picked up on the strange signals from the old lady.

“I understand they can’t say for sure, but was there any blood, or anything?”

“Dad said they found nothing like that.”

“What about needle marks? Maybe it was a drug overdose.”

“Rhys’s dad said he didn’t see any. He pretty well said he had no idea how the guy died,” Mia replied, growing more concerned over her grandmother’s behaviour.

“Maybe he was hit over the head?” Cynthia mused, as if to herself. “Sometimes that doesn’t leave blood.”

Aunt Cynthia rocked back and looked away from the trio, her profile showing pursed lips. Mia noticed that she was clutching her hands together.

“You seem eager to know how he died,” Mia said. “Why?”

“Because I am afraid of one possibility,” Aunt Cynthia said, her distracted tone showing that only part of her attention was still on the conversation.

“What’s that?” Mia asked, when her grandmother didn’t say anything more.

“That he died of a broken heart,” she whispered.

There was a momentary silence, and then Rhys burst out laughing.

“Aunt Cynthia, you’re such a romantic! Only you would consider dying of a broken heart to be the worst thing imaginable.”

Mia and Vince smiled at the truth behind that statement. Aunt Cynthia was the town’s leading amateur relationship consultant. At some stage, every teenager in town had asked her for advice on his or her love life.

Dabbing at her eyes with a lace handkerchief, Cynthia conceded the point. She asked a few more questions, which no one could answer. They would all have to wait for more information.

* * *

“Dad! I’m home!” Vince yelled after he’d switched off the engine.

He stepped out and was immediately accosted by Patches, the blue heeler he’d raised from a pup. He squatted down so he could give her a scratch behind the ears. When she looked at the ute, Vince shook his head. “Not now, girl.”

Vince wasn’t surprised at hearing no answer to his call. His dad wasn’t one to stay around the house while there was work to be done. Even with arthritis starting to cripple his right hand, he still went out and pulled his weight around the farm.

Kirstie Aster stuck her head out of the kitchen window. “Your dad’s out in the back paddock, where the tree came down on the fence. He said to take the ute straight out there with the supplies. He indicated he wants it all fixed before the end of the day.”

“Okay, Mum!”

As he started to get back into the ute, Patches gave a bark. Vince paused and hit the side. “Up, girl.”

The dog leapt into the back. The sloppy tongue hanging out of her mouth and the wagging tail showed how much she enjoyed rides.

Vince restarted the ute and headed along the trail to the back paddock. He hoped he wasn’t in trouble for being delayed in town, but he was sure the news he’d brought would be sufficient to excuse him.

Approaching the last of the four gates between the house and his destination, he noticed that the dam in that paddock was almost dry. It had been a dry winter, and with summer fast approaching they would need to put the cattle into a paddock where they could get water from the stream that formed their property’s western boundary.

It didn’t take Vince long to locate his father. The noise of the chainsaw made it easy. The broad-shouldered farmer, his build so unlike his son’s slender one, was leaning hard as he forced the saw into an old red gum by the creek that ran at the edge of their property. Vince saw a small herd of cattle grazing peacefully in their neighbour’s paddock on the other side of the water.

Once Vince had pulled up and was out, Tony Aster stopped the saw. Vince frowned when he saw how unsteady his dad’s hands were as he lowered the chainsaw to the ground. Either his dad was overdoing it, or the arthritis was getting worse. Patches jumped out and ran to the older man, stopping a few steps short and sinking to the ground.

“Are you sure it’s safe for you to be doing that?” Vince asked, as soon as his dad had taken off the goggles and earmuffs and stepped towards him.

“Why shouldn’t it be?” Tony asked, his weathered face showing annoyance at the suggestion that he wasn’t capable of doing regular farm work. He bent down to give Patches a scratch. “Good girl.”

Vince let it drop. His dad had stopped the chainsaw and he was there to take over. That was all that was important.

“What are we doing here, anyway?” Vince asked. “The broken fence is over that way.”

“Well, I thought that since this tree fell over in the last storm, we could use it for new fence posts.”

Vince looked up at the gum tree that his dad was standing beside. “It’s sure taking it’s time to finish falling over. You’re just helping it along, aren’t you?”

“Of course. We’re not allowed to cut down native trees without permission, but there’s nothing wrong with using one that’s fallen over by itself.”

Vince grinned. “Would you like me to help?”

“If you don’t mind.”

Vince walked over, pulled on the earmuffs, and put on the goggles. As he pulled the cord to start the chainsaw, he returned to worrying about what was going to happen in the future. There was no way he could see that he could head off to school in Dubbo and leave his dad behind to look after things. Of course, it all depended on whether or not he was accepted into the Farm Management course at the university. Everything was academic if he didn’t get a placement. But even if he did, Vince didn’t see any choice but to defer for a year and hope something would come up to allow him to start university the following year.

With a grinding of teeth hidden by the roar of the chainsaw, Vince attacked the base of the tree. He loved the farm and wanted it to be a success, but he needed that course to allow him to have a future. If his brother, Warren, hadn’t disappeared to Sydney, then it would be different. His mum had told him that Warren was the spitting image of his dad at the same age, but sadly without the love of the land that drove the patriarch of the family. With Warren gone, there were just Vince and his parents to look after the place. With a surge of anger at his brother, Vince forced the chainsaw deeper into the old gum tree. If Warren would even send some money to help out, they’d be able to get by. But no, his big brother had his marketing job in Sydney and had no interest in anything that happened out in the countryside. If the farm went broke, Vince was sure he’d just shrug his shoulders and say that was too bad, and then return to whatever it was he was doing.

Vince switched to the other side of the tree. He automatically doublechecked where the tree would be falling to make sure it wouldn’t create any danger.

Because of his brother, Vince was going to be stuck in Mourton without an education that would allow him to advance. Without that course, he wouldn’t be able to find a decent second job to help supplement the farm’s income.

The tree began to creak as Vince continued to push the saw into the trunk, expelling his anger at the world in general and his brother in particular, through the screech of the chain ripping into the wood.

When a loud cracking sound penetrated the earmuffs, Vince stepped back and watched the tree come crashing down. There was no sense of satisfaction. It was a job that had needed to be done, and he had done it. Nothing more, nothing less.

With barely a word between them, Vince and his father proceeded to strip the tree down to the main trunk. Vince used the chainsaw to cut away the branches, while his dad ripped off the bark. By lunchtime they were ready for the next step.

“What kept you so long?” Mr. Aster asked while they were munching on sandwiches. Nearby, Patches gnawed at a bone that Vince had tossed to her.

“There was some drama in town this morning.”

“Oh?”

“They found a body underneath The Tree.”

Vince noticed his father stiffen. He waited, but his dad didn’t say anything more. He just looked blankly out across the field.

“Aunt Cynthia wanted to know what was going on, so Mia and I asked around for a while.”

By nodding his head, Tony Aster indicated he was still listening, but still he didn’t say anything.

“Sergeant Dresden was in charge, but he didn’t know a lot. He said he’d have to wait until they do an autopsy, as he couldn’t tell why the guy died.”

“How old was he?”

Vince shrugged. “Maybe early twenties. Not sure.”

The older man sat, slowly chewing, while he thought about what he’d been told.

“What did Aunt Cynthia say when you told her this?”

Vince chuckled. “She made a comment about hoping he didn’t die of a broken heart!”

The laughter died when he saw his dad nodding his head. “Yeah, I hope so, too.”

Vince didn’t know what to make of that. Aunt Cynthia was a romantic, everyone in town knew that, but his dad was anything but. Serious and dour better described his dad. Vince wondered why he was so concerned.

“What do you mean?”

Tony Aster looked at his son for a moment, then shook his head and stood up.

“Time to get back to work, son. We need to get the fence fixed so we can move the cattle in here. They’re running out of water where they are.”

Vince swallowed the last of his sandwich and rose to his feet. His dad’s behaviour was puzzling, but he knew he wasn’t going to be told anything more until his dad was ready.

* * *

Vince allowed his mum to straighten his tie. It was a waste of time, of course, because the drive into town would mess it up, but it made her happy.

“Now have a good time, Vincent. It’ll be your wedding, one day. For now, just make sure you behave yourself. Give our love to Joanna and Peter!”

“Yes, Mum,” Vince replied with a sigh and a smile.

“Don’t you take that tone with me, young man,” Kirstie Aster scolded, ruining it with a return smile. “Get going, or you’ll be late. Only the bride is allowed to be late to a wedding.”

After kissing his mum on the cheek and waving goodbye to his dad, Vince walked out to the ute. He climbed in carefully, making sure he didn’t get dirt on his Sunday best, then started the engine and headed into town.

Driving along, he continued the town’s latest mind game: who was the mysterious man who’d died earlier that week? The body had been taken to Dubbo for an autopsy, and Rhys’s dad was annoyed that the results were not back yet. If it weren’t for the distraction of his daughter’s wedding, he probably would’ve driven the two hours to chase up on what was going on. For most of the week, he’d been heard wondering who the guy was and grumbling about the delays in getting the autopsy report, but he’d become tightlipped on the Friday. He knew something, but wouldn’t say what it was. Not even Aunt Cynthia was able to get any gossip out of him, at least none that she shared with anyone.

Vince glanced at the gift resting on the seat next to him. He hoped it would be good enough, as he had bought it at very short notice. He hadn’t been originally invited, as he was only a friend of the bride’s brother, but a cancellation by someone who’d fallen sick at the last minute opened up a seat. He didn’t know what Rhys had done to arrange for the invitation, but he was grateful. It was always worthwhile going to a wedding ceremony under The Tree, and a reception in the town hall afterwards.

Once he pulled into the street that circled the central park, he quickly found a parking spot and got out. There was already a large crowd under The Tree, but the general noise level indicated that the ceremony hadn’t started.

Vince turned back to pick up the present and then headed into the shade. He saw Rhys and Padma wave to him, but he first headed over to the table where the other gifts had been placed. After he’d added his to the collection, he joined his friends.

“Hi, Rhys,” he said, giving him a firm handshake.

“Hi, Padma,” he added as he leant forward and gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek.

“G’day, Vince,” Rhys replied. Padma just smiled up shyly at Vince.

“Thanks again for inviting me,” Vince said, before being waved off by Rhys.

“It was nothing. Now, lets...”

Rhys’s voice faded as he looked past Vince and smiled.

“She’s here!”

Vince turned around to see the wedding cars arriving. Rhys’s father had managed to get three matching white LTDs for the bridal party.

“Come on. Let’s get into position,” Rhys said. He was eager to see his big sister finally walk down the aisle.

Vince and his friends lined up behind the row of ribbons that sectioned off part of the park. As he waited for the bride to get out of the car and for the assembled photographers to take their happy snaps, Vince looked around. Many of the town notables were present, which was to be expected with the senior policeman’s daughter getting married. Two sets of poles, decorated with ivy and flowers, carried white ribbons to form an aisle. When a murmur swept over the crowd, Vince looked back to see Joanna Dresden, soon to be Joanna Hollows, strolling slowly to where her husband-to-be, Peter, was grinning nervously. The Reverend Ian Cloister was standing just beyond them, a faint smile on his face.

When Joanna reached the front, the crowd settled in behind.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here to celebrate the coming together of these two young people...”

Vince listened with only half an ear to Rev. Cloister’s sermon. It was varied each time, but much of it he knew by heart. He suspected most of the audience could’ve recited it in their sleep; they’d been to that many weddings. Still, each one was unique and special in its own right.

Peter and Joanna were facing each other, with Peter slipping a ring onto Joanna’s finger, when things went horribly wrong.

With a sudden crack like a clap of thunder, a large branch fell off The Tree and smashed down onto the table where the registry was to be signed. A pair of young children playing nearby were struck a glancing blow by part of the branch. They started crying loudly, and were quickly gathered up by their parents.

Screams echoed through the park as the crowd erupted. Rhys and Vince looked around, and up, in panic. Vince had cut down too many trees not to know what had happened, but he’d never seen The Tree lose a branch in all his life. He was wondering what to do as people streamed around him in a mad rush, when he saw one person standing perfectly still, staring up into the canopy overhead.

“Aunt Cynthia, are you okay?”

Still staring upward, she shook her head. “I was afraid of this. It’s happening again.”