Boone Tackett pulled back the cuff of his blue plaid flannel shirt to check the time on his watch again. 8:23. 

They were late. 

Typical, he thought. 

He leaned forward, elbows on his jeans, the fire warming the backs of his bare hands. He picked up the branch at his right and used it to stoke the fire. He pulled it back; glowing embers stuck to the tip. He stared, eyes entranced by the tiny specks burning into the wood—a reminder of what had happened, what he had done. Obedience wasn’t always easy. But it had been the right thing to do. It seemed like a long time ago. He’d only been back twice since that day. The last time four months ago.

Boone exhaled, looked again at the vintage Timex he had acquired in a local antique shop. He stood, glanced back at the unhinged door leaning against the dilapidated barn and then over into the distance where lights poured through the French doors of the farmhouse. Inside his mother was most likely testing recipes for her new cookbook and his father watching old episodes of “This Old Barn” for barn-makeover inspiration. Kaylee probably had her head in another book—some fairy tale or fantasy. 

He’d tried to convince his parents to let her go. She would be furious when she found out he had gone back without her. Not that she couldn’t go on her own if she wanted. She wasn’t exactly the little sister who had playfully annoyed him and nearly drowned trying to catch a blind fish with her bare hands. His parents insisted Kaylee should stay here on the farm—to rest and heal—despite Boone’s own insistence that the healers would have her off her crutches and back on the volleyball court before the sun rose in Tennessee tomorrow. But they didn’t know the garden like he did. Not yet. 

He had told them everything about the garden close to a year ago. He just couldn’t keep it from them anymore. Somehow, keeping a secret from his parents felt like a lie. They had a lot of questions and concerns about Boone’s past adventures, but a few friends from their old church in Kentucky were more than willing to fill in the gaps, put their mind at ease, and explain why the church had protected the existence of the garden for so long.

Boone stoked the fire again. He wished the guys would hurry up. He shivered in the crisp November air—not quite winter but too cool for fall. Granted, it had been his idea to meet outside. If Kaylee saw them, she would know they weren’t just there for a quick visit. He had no idea how long he would be gone or what he was getting into this time. So he had purposely not told his sister where he was going.

He was ready—his backpack carrying a few necessities like his Bible. He didn’t need much. He would have everything he needed provided for him when he got there, including a change of clothes. He peeked at the face of the watch. Again. 8:38. Once he was back there, his vintage timepiece would be irrelevant, a mere decoration, a trinket on his wrist. Time didn’t seem to matter there. They didn’t worry about minutes and seconds. They didn’t keep calendars or make appointments. He could be there for four days or four months and he would still be able to get back to the World in the same moment he left. Life worked differently too. People thought differently. 

Lately, Boone missed differently. 

He missed the rhythm. He missed the calm. He missed the consistency. He missed them. 

What if they don’t remember me? he thought. 

He paused and redirected his thoughts. They remember you. They always do. 

He’d gone down the path of overthinking and self-loathing before, and it had left him nearly blind and ready to fight his best friends.

But something was going on, and Boone hadn’t a clue what it was. “We have a surprise for you,” they said. “We can find you,” they said. “Eight o’clock,” they said. 

School, his family’s recent move out to the farm, his sister’s knee surgery, his dad’s new job—these were all good reasons to be here at home with his family, but his heart longed to be there. He brushed the black curls away from his eyes and looked up into the night sky. He had to hand it to his parents. This was some view. Moving three and half, almost four hours from the life he had always known was hard enough, but then to move thirty minutes further south two years later, at first, he hadn’t exactly been excited about the idea of living out in the middle of nowhere, especially when living in a subdivision suddenly seemed normal. And then he’d seen the stars. 

It was hard to believe there were actually people who had never seen the stars before… or the sky… or the ocean… or a pizza. He did love it here, but he was restless. He was unsettled, physically and spiritually. Something was stirring in him, and he hadn’t sorted what it was.

Suddenly, a flash of light burst forth from the barn. Boone covered his eyes with the back of his arm, then lowered it to see three figures moving his way. 

“What if it’s the wrong barn?” a voice asked.

“It’s not the wrong barn. I know what I’m doing,” said another.

“Oh man,” another moaned, “I left my milkshake back there.”

Boone knew those voices. 

“Still playing with fire, B? Gonna burn the place down?”

Boone shook his head. “That never gets old. Oh wait… it does.” He reached up to hug his friend. “You’ve grown like a foot taller, Wayne!”

“Nah,” Wayne said, patting him on the back. “You’ve shrunk.”

Boone forced a laughed and turned toward Case. It seemed like every guy in his grade, including the ones standing in front of him had gotten taller over the summer, however he’d taken on the Tackett family trait of remaining shorter than the average sixteen-year-old. 

“Good to see you, Boone. Nice place you got here,” Case said. Boone hugged his cousin. He had really missed these guys. They’d practically been friends since they were born, growing up in the same small town, attending the same church, playing basketball in his driveway, eating Fava burgers—nearly every moment in his life he had experienced with these guys. Life seemed slower then.

“Looks like a good sized piece of land,” Wayne added.

“I like it,” Boone said, casting a glance back at the house.

The third extended his hand to Boone. “Garden isn’t the same without you.”

“Seriously? A handshake?” Boone pushed the hand away and wrapped Jeff in an overly exaggerated hug. They’d been unofficial enemies almost as long as he’d been friends with the others, but the Mishpachah had changed everything. 

“All right! All right! I get it.” Jeff laughed, wriggling out of Boone’s bear hug. “We should probably get going. Hopefully, Noel will be ready by then.”

Boone cast a glance to Case. What did Jeff mean by hopefully? Jeff and Noel had gotten close over the past two years, not that it bothered Boone… much. Noel was his best friend, but the distance had made it hard for them to keep up, especially since neither of them were a fan of social media. And she was apparently spending more time studying or researching, so much so that the others rarely saw her—at least that was the word Kaylee had shared with him from her most recent conversation with Cora. 

Case kicked a rock away from his boot. “Something’s sure got her occupied in those books down there.”

“She calls it research,” Jeff mumbled. “But it’s not like I come home very often.”

“And Cora?” Boone asked, curious. It seemed communication had been lacking all over the place. She’d been busy. He’d been busy. They had both promised to keep in touch. But they hadn’t. 

“Cora had play practice.”

Play practice? Boone didn’t know she was in a play.

“She’ll meet us in the garden, and Noel”—Jeff cleared his throat, scratched the back of his head, and shoved his hands in his pockets. “We’re picking her up at the church if she surfaces. So, are you ready?” He looked up to Boone, clearly making a subject change.

“More than you know! Are you going to tell me why all the secrecy, or are you all still going to make me wait?”

Wayne slapped Boone on the shoulder. “Make you wait.”

“I’m kind of surprised you don’t already know,” Jeff said. “Your friends from Odyssey Church would know. I’ve seen them a few times in the garden.”

When Boone had moved from Georgetown, Kentucky to Franklin, Tennessee, he had no idea that he would meet others who knew about the gardens in the under-lands. They were a welcome surprise, and he had learned a lot from them. 

“Actually, I haven’t seen them in a while. We changed churches a couple months ago, something smaller, a bit closer to the farm. And…” Boone had no idea how his friends would react to what he was about to tell them. “I’m homeschooled.” Another change in his world.

“Homeschooled?” Wayne laughed. “Why would you want to do that?”

“I actually hear it can be more academically rigorous,” Jeff said, arms crossed, “and allows the student to engage in more concentrated learning in areas that could potentially be career centered.” 

“Again, why would you want to do that?” Wayne asked.

Boone shrugged. “I don’t know. My mom suggested homeschooling, and I thought I’d give it a try. I had to change schools when we moved anyway, so it seemed like a good time to switch. I actually like it… a lot.”

“So your mom is your teacher? Does she give you homework… for your homeschool? If you get in trouble, is your dad like the principal?”

“First of all, you’re acting like homeschooling is a new concept. Everyone in the garden is basically homeschooled,” Jeff added. “Second, we really need to go.”

“I know!” Wayne laughed again. “I was just messin’ with B. There’s a guy on the basketball team that’s homeschooled. Good guy. Even better ball player. I know all about it.”

“It’s fine,” Boone said. He was ready to go. “Going back the way you came?”

Jeff nodded. “Seems like as good a place as any. Have you tried making any doors lately?” 

“I haven’t really had a need.” Boone had made one, once, because the garden had allowed it. 

He remembered the first time he’d traveled by door. He had created a door out of the garden because he needed it to get his friends back home. He hadn’t made one since. After that, he’d used other ways to get to and from the garden—books, the Arc, an ancient key, messengers. Messengers had the gifting to create doors whenever and wherever they wanted, for the good of the garden. But he wasn’t assigned as a messenger. He didn’t know what he was anymore.

“I would have come for you,” Jeff said.

“I guess so.” The truth was, Boone was kind of waiting for the garden to call him back, to need him. It seemed strange to just show up for a visit and interrupt the daily rhythm of the garden just because he wanted to see it, to live it, to feel it. He knew the Mishpachah, wouldn’t mind, but it just felt odd.

The boys walked towards the old barn, Boone leading the way. Excitement stirred in him. They stopped at the entrance—the smell of aged wood carried from inside. Jeff raised his hand and closed his eyes. Then another door, like the one that adorned the front of the Great Crossing Baptist Church, appeared in front of him. He gave it a push, and a flash of light burst forth. Boone started to step forward, then for a moment remembered the fire he’d left burning. He considered putting it out—it would be the wise thing to do, if he weren’t going to return to this very moment in time.

“Sorry, Kaylee,” he whispered, knowing she wouldn’t even realize he had been gone until he had returned. “I’ll bring you a souvenir.” Then, Boone Tackett stepped through the opening, joined by his friends, and the door closed behind them all.