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startled by this, but almost immediately saw he was just holding up her arm so he could see the bite clearly.
    “Yep, looks like one took a fair chunk outta you.” He chuckled. “My dad used to tell me that God put blackflies on earth to improve my reflexes.” He slapped his other hand on his thigh and the sound echoed off the trees like a rifle shot. “Suckers haven’t bit me since I was ten.”
    Darby rubbed the sore spot on her arm and turned back to her basket. If she could get this job done before Nan returned she might have a chance to try to find Gabriel.She wanted to hear how he and his family were able to live in that broken-down old place.
    Gramps pulled his hat down low with a snort and shuffled off toward the house.
    Now where’s he going?
Darby thought.
We’re supposed to be doing this together
.
    She dropped to her knees and kept picking. Gramps seemed fine today. It was stupid that she was forced to keep an eye on him. He seemed perfectly normal—even a little less cranky than at breakfast time when he caught her piling four spoonfuls of sugar onto her porridge.
    And what if he did decide to do something wacky? Just what was she supposed to do about that? Not much a thirteen-year-old can do to stop a man the size of Gramps from climbing a tree if he wants to badly enough.
    Darby checked her basket. Maybe fifteen decent berries. There were two main problems with berry picking. Half of the things seemed to have a little white worm or two curled up inside. Ugh. And the other half looked so juicy and red—and the day was so hot …
    At this rate only one berry out of every five she picked was making it into the basket.
    The screen door slammed and Gramps shuffled back across the lawn toward the garden. Good. No tree climbing yet.
    He had a pile of old newspapers under his arm. “Gotta love
The Guardian
,” he said. “At least this goddamn paper is good for something.”
    Earlier he’d been complaining bitterly about something he’d read in the paper. Nice to see his attitude hadimproved. He dropped half the papers on the ground in front of Darby and knelt down on the other half. “I’m going to let ye in on a little secret, kiddo,” he said, his voice muffled by leaves as he stuck his head under the brambles. “The trick to picking raspberries is that ye have to be open to seeing things from a different angle.”
    Darby slapped at a mosquito and dropped to her knees. She stuck her head under the brambles, carefully keeping her distance from the little suckers on the leaves that wanted to sting her face and hands. The temperature dropped in the cool shade under the branches, and when she looked up, Darby could see masses of berries just ready for picking.
    That Gramps. Full of surprises.
    She rolled over on her back to look up at the clumps of red berries, each hanging from a slender stalk and dangling in their hundreds just above her head.
    The leaves rustled and Gramps’s head poked into Darby’s little cave under the brambles. “Nan stakes ’em so they’ll grow like this,” he said with a grin. “Should speed up the job—long as you can keep a few of ’em outta yer mouth.”
    Darby picked like crazy for about five minutes and just like that her basket was full. She scrambled out from under the bushes to see her grandfather dusting off his knees. “Thanks, Gramps,” she said gratefully. “That took no time at all.”
    About then she noticed his own basket was empty. He stuffed it into her free hand.
    “Uh, well, kiddo, I’ve a powerful thirst that’s just comeon,” he said, glancing up at the house. “And since Etta is not available to get me a lemonade, I think I’ll just pop down to the Legion for a quick sip.”
    Darby jumped to her feet and tried to think fast. This was exactly what Nan didn’t want. “Er—Nan said you were going to—ah—keep an eye on me while she was out,” she stammered.
    “Ach—you’re a big strong girl. Ye don’t need old Gramps always