The Garden of Eve

by Going, K. L.

• ISBN13: 9780152059866
• ISBN10: 0152059865
• Format: Hardcover
• Copyright: 2007-10-01
• Publisher: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

Summary

Evie reluctantly moves with her widowed father to Beaumont, New York, where he has bought an apple orchard, dismissing rumors that the town is cursed and the trees haven't borne fruit in decades. Evie doesn't believe in things like curses and fairy tales anymore--if fairy tales were real, her mom would still be alive. But odd things happen in Beaumont. Evie meets a boy who claims to be dead and receives a mysterious seed as an eleventh-birthday gift. Once planted, the seed grows into a tree overnight, but only Evie and the dead boy can see it--or go where it leads. The Garden of Eve mixes spine-tingling chills with a deeply resonating story that beautifully explores grief, healing, and growth.

Author Biography

K. L. GOING is the author of Fat Kid Rules the World, a Michael L. Printz Honor Book; Saint Iggy; and The Liberation of Gabriel King. She lives and writes full-time in Glen Spey, New York.

Table of Contents

Prelude	p. 1
•The Fork in the Road	p. 7
•The Pale Boy	p. 14
•The House by the Cemetery	p. 26
•Tomorrow	p. 33
•Alex	p. 39
•Ghosts	p. 45
•Mysteries	p. 49
•Maggie’s Story	p. 62
•Dreaming	p. 69
•Birthday Wishes	p. 76
•The Only Gift That Counts'Times New Roman'; mso-ansi-font-size: 9.0pt""	p. 82
•The Search for a Sto
Table of Contents provided by Publisher. All Rights Reserved.

Excerpts

Chapter OneThe Fork in the RoadThe final bend on the last road would take them to Beaumont. Father wanted to go straight but there was a fork in the road, so he stopped their old truck, packed full of their belongings, and got out to stare down each darkened, narrow lane. Maybe they were lost and theyd have to turn around and go home to Michigan. Evie hoped they were lost. She rolled down the window despite the cold. Lets go back, she called, but as she said it Father took several steps forward and disappeared into the thick fog. Evie waited, and when he didnt answer she sat up straight in the front seat, her heart pounding in her chest. She pushed at the door, but just as it opened Father reappeared piece by piece, his solid figure emerging from the deep gray. Cant tell which way to go, he said, coming back to the truck and leaning on the edge of her open window. He was wearing his padded gardening jacket and thick leather gloves, but his cheeks were red and the skin around his beard was windburned already. Cold filled the truck. Fogs too thick, and I sure dont remember there being a fork in the road. He scratched his chin and took the crumpled directions from his jacket pocket. Hed gotten them months ago, before hed visited the property, scribbling them onto the back of a grocery list because it had been nearest to the telephone. Milk, eggs, peanut butter, whole wheat bread, take Route 71 east until you reach exit 7, then go 70 miles on Route 77. . . . Evie brought her knees up to her chest and shivered in the late October air. Her pant legs rode up her ankles, letting the cold sting her bare skin. The pants were too short, but they were the last ones her mom would ever buy herthe last of her pretty clothes with no grass stains on the knees from rolling down hills or holes in the sides from catching on thorns. She wouldnt get rid of them no matter how small they got. Shed tried to stop growing instead, but it hadnt worked. Her legs were long and gangly, like a boys. Evie pulled her socks up as high as they would go and tugged at her winter coat to bring it lower. She peered down each road, only they both looked the same. Nothing but trees on every side, stretching as far as the eye could seea thick forest between two great mountain ridges. The day was bleak, and the trees stood like sentries standing guard. The truck door opened and Evies father slid back into the drivers seat. I wrote down straight, he said, pointing toward the crumpled paper. Im certain it was straight until town. Its the strangest thing. Evie twisted her hair into a curl, but it fell flat again as soon as she let go. Moms had never done that. She sighed, and a flock of crows lifted up at once, as if released by her breath. They spiraled into the fog and their calls filled the air like a thunderous warning. Evie shivered. We should go home, she said again. We must have made a wrong turn. She thought over the drive from Michigan to New York, and eac

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Excerpted from The Garden of Eve by K. L. Going
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