I’ve heard enough and jump up and stand between Tom and the captain, almost knocking Tom over. My clenched fists tell me that inside Amadeus is getting ready to lash out. I take a deep breath, hoping that’ll keep him inside, and snarl at the foreman.
“Don’t be silly, why would he do that? I haven’t met a single person who is more conscientious than Scott Thompson. He would never in a million years endanger the bush and wildlife with a careless fire. The question is, who has reason to burn down his cabin?”
The captain of the firemen looks at me surprised as if he only just now noticed me. “Who are you?”
“I’m okay, thank you. Just a few burns that’ll heal in no time. Thanks for your concern.”
Let nobody say Lilly Seagar doesn’t know how to do sarcasm. And it worked. The captain is blushing … or is it the heat from the fire?
“My name is Elizabeth Seagar. I own Wright’s Homestead, ten minutes down the road.”
The captain nods and holds up his finger. “We’ll talk later.” He rushes over to his crew and for the next while they drench the place until the last ember is extinguished and water is dripping down from every piece of charred timber.
I know they are looking for signs of a body when the firefighters enter the ruins with long sticks and shovels, poking around, and pushing charred beams aside. Have they found anything? I can’t keep my eyes off them. Tom and I move closer to the ruins to get a better view when the captain stops us.
“I’m sorry, you can’t go in there. Before the fire inspector has been, the place is off-limits to you and everyone else.”
“Can you at least tell us if you’ve found a body?”
He must have found something because his eyes are filled with pity and his voice takes on a softer tone.
“We haven’t found any sign of a body yet. That’s all I can tell you at the moment. Please, Mrs. Seagar, Mr. …?
“Aldercroft, my name is Thomas Aldercroft.”
“… there is nothing here for you to see. We have to do our job. I promise to call in at your place when we know more about what happened.”
He shoos us back to the car and joins his men again.
Back in my car, I’m holding on to the steering wheel. I’m terrified they might find a body, but I can’t take my eyes off the firemen bending down, picking things up, pointing to bits and pieces of bent steel, lifting what looks like a deformed cooking pot, and collecting samples of ash and wood in small containers.
I shake my head. This is just a nightmare and I’ll wake up any second now. But my burning lungs and my stinging eyes are real. Everything hurts. None of that matters, because Scottie didn’t make it out. I’m sure of it.
Terror is sending its icy tentacles through me covering my insides with a thick frozen layer, bit by bit until I’m completely numb.
“Let me take you home. There is nothing for us to do.”
I kind of recognize Tom’s voice but he’s not making sense through the darkness that swallows me.
Chapter Six
Ama: 3 March 2017, Late Afternoon, Wright’s Homestead
I watch Tom carrying the lifeless body up into our bedroom. He thinks it’s Lilly, but she’s long gone. She dissolved like a dream and disappeared. We’re all retreated into our rooms in the tree house. Without any of us being in the body, it looks odd and unfamiliar. I have no connection with it. It’s rather like a coat someone forgot when they went home. How can that be?
I swear in this state it has nothing to do with us. And yet, I know it’s not a dead shell. There is blood running through the veins and it can be hurt, a hurt that the Tribe then has to live with. It’s confusing.
I shiver, stirred by the images of a person in a coma. You know there must be someone there, but the medical people can’t awaken the person and the patient doesn’t respond to any stimuli. It’s as if they’ve retreated to the most hidden place within their mind where nobody can reach them. Not quite dead but also not alive.
We’ve spent a lot of our childhood in that in-between state and swore never to allow that again … and yet here we are. After all those years of hard work we put into our healing, all the progress we’ve made, we are back to where we started.
In the past, we always came back from that dark place. I hope—no, I pray—we’ll manage it this time as well. It can’t have been in vain to put us together again and again.
My legs are heaving and ache as I make my way up the stairs to find Lilly. This sweet girl has been so brave, giving her innocent heart to Scott. Around him, she grew from a cheeky teenager into a young, beautiful woman.
Her Scottie.
I can still hear her calling him that name. My face softens and I wipe away a silly tear.
I stop short on the landing of the common room. It’s ever so quiet. On a normal day, it brims with the Tribe either resting, playing, reading, or simply being. But nobody’s here anymore. I rush up and down the stairs, looking in every room, checking every corner. I can’t find anybody.
Instead, I discover pieces of our tree house charred and the roots are blackened as if they’d come too close to the flames. Some branches have caught fire and are smoldering.
How did that happen?
How did our inside house, our safe place, get damaged? I know our tree house isn’t real. It only exists in our minds. That should have protected it from any damage. Something is wrong and I can’t put my finger on it. There are holes in our walls and tendrils of smoke are hanging in the air. It can’t be. Are we that connected to Scott that the fire not only burned his cabin down but also affected us on this deep level?
The house is empty.
Abandoned.
Without the pitter-patter and chatter of the Tribe, it isn’t even our home anymore. I never expected our tree house could ever be in danger. I would have sworn a thousand oaths it’s the safest place on earth. I would have raised my voice to condemn anyone who’d suggest otherwise.
My head is getting dizzy. I take a step backward, reaching with my hand for the chair I know I’ve put in the corner, and drop onto the seat. A whiff of smoke is sending chills of fear up my spine. It’s cold. I wrap my arms around me and try to move past the ice-cold pain around my heart and try to think. This can’t be our end.
“Sky, Elise, Lilly, Luke, Lizette, Amadeus, Phoenix… anybody! Where are you?”
My voice ricochets from the walls, its echo mocking me. Nobody responds. I’m alone in the tree house. I know that cannot be. Parts don’t just disappear because they are sick and tired of being a multiple. It’s not that we can fall out of the tree like ripe apples.
“Come back, please.”
I didn’t notice how everyone disappeared. It must have been a silent exodus while my focus was on Lilly, making sure she didn’t sling herself into the burning cabin. They only had to look after themselves for a little while. The shock must have overwhelmed them; there is no other explanation.
Most of the Tribe became friends with Scott. We re-wrote history with his help. He was the first man the children, even the littlest ones, dared to come out to. He never made us feel odd or crazy. For him, it was normal when we switched and he danced the dance of parts with us, always on our side. They even made him an honorary member of the Tribe. He got us.
It was with his help that we learned to work together, and many of the little ones could start the healing process. They had learned that they had been stuck in the past re-experiencing the abuse memory they held over and over again, just as it happened in the movie Groundhog Day.
The little ones never noticed that the body had grown up and the abuse no longer happened, except in their minds as flashbacks. We all found that a hard lesson to learn, especially with memories that come full throttle—as Lilly called it—with all the emotions, smells, and physical sensations.
Is it possible that the Tribe was so deeply connected to Scott that they vanished as soon as he did? What does it make me? I liked him but I wasn’t in love with him. I leave that to the youn
g folks. Lilly and Tom think Scott is dead. It saddens me. He was a good man and a good friend.
He and I got into a tangle a few times when he was overprotective and acted as if we were helpless maidens in distress. It wasn’t always easy for him to recognize when to be helpful and when help becomes patronizing. He had to learn that just because we are hurting doesn’t mean we are helpless. We went through hell and back as a young child and survived. Not recognizing that strength is an insult to our recovery. Scott understood and gave us the much-needed room.
When Lilly and Tom arrived at the burning cabin, she believed Scottie had perished in the flames. That’s the last time I saw any of my charges. I can’t find Sky either. I always thought of her as the center of us, inseparable from and forever connected to each of us. How is it possible that she’s not around? Where her voice once rang clear like a bell, there is nothing left but an eerie silence.
In the past, she sometimes had to go to ground and recharge her batteries. For that, she took refuge in her room way up at the top of our tree house. But not this time. This is different. All the rooms in the house are empty.
Sometimes I hear whimpering in the distance from a little one. No words, just sounds of despair and fear. But they are so far away they might as well be coming from a different planet.
Elise has vanished too. At least I assume so because I looked everywhere for her. She never was good at tolerating stress and strong emotions, but she improved over the last year. We have Lilly to thank for that. We all expected she and Elise would become one. It looked like it for a long time. But now? It’s hard to say what will happen.
The emptiness and silence of the tree house gnaw away at my resolve to stay calm. My mind is numb, refusing to accept that I’m alone. How is that…? It’s impossible. They must be here somewhere. I have to search harder and shout louder. We can’t go back to the time when we lived in perpetual darkness. That was before Maddie found the tree house for us.
Maddie.
“Sweetie, where are you. Come to Ama.”
Nothing but silence. It is hard to bear. My voice sounds desperate…needy, almost. I hate appearing needy. That’s not me. I’m the one people turn to when the going gets tough. I’m the strong one, the rock in the untamed surf of life. My thoughts fall into an abyss of silence.
Clattering sounds coming from my pantry bring my focus back to the outside world. I all but forgot that Tom is alone in the house. Duty calls. I have to look after our guest. There is no time for feeling sorry for myself, no time for self-pity. I have to trust the Tribe will return once they have gotten over the initial shock. Scott would have wanted me to look after his friend. That’s the least I can do after all the help Tom gave us.
It’s an effort to slip into the body. It feels uncomfortable like trying on a dress that’s two sizes too small and made of itchy material. The shock of finding Scott’s cabin burning, the pain and grief are still lingering in its cells. It’s the residue and a reminder of Lilly’s agony. I gasp for air but I can’t shake it off.
Today’s events have depleted the body’s energy. It’s a heavy chore to make my way down the stairs. Lightheaded I hold on to the balustrade and conquer the stairs one at a time.
“Shouldn’t you stay in bed? I can look after myself.” Tom’s voice sounds croaky and hoarse, betraying the agony he’s trying to keep in. I look up to meet his gaze and gasp at the sea of pain sitting in the back of his eyes. I put my hand on his arm.
“Of course, you can. But it’s better not to be alone. That goes not only for you but for me as well.”
A strained smile flashes over his face as he balances a plate with bread and a chunk of cheese with right his hand. He looks somber and perhaps a little embarrassed that I found him rummaging in my pantry. He doesn’t seem to be dealing well with the death of his friend. He has tipped his bag out on the sofa and clothing items are strewn everywhere as if he were frustrated and looking for something.
“It’s as if I’m in a bad dream and any minute now Scott comes barging through the door.”
I sigh and rub my sternum. “The same thoughts crossed my mind.”
He nods. “How about your burned hands? Let me see.”
I forgot all about the hands. At least the pain in my body makes sense now. I turn my bandaged hands to him.
“Nothing to see. They’ll heal. It’s not a big deal—thanks for holding me back, I guess. Bread and cheese?” I’m pointing with my chin to his plate. “I’m sure we can do better.”
“Don’t worry, it’s enough.” He looks somber and perhaps a little embarrassed that I found him rummaging in my pantry. “Scott is dead and I’m thinking of food. I shouldn’t.”
“Of course you have to eat. It doesn’t bring Scott back if you don’t eat. It’s me, Ama. Lilly needs to rest. I hope she recovers and comes back soon. Everyone is in shock. Our inside feels dead and empty as if someone dropped a bomb.”
“But you are not in shock, it seems?”
“No, not as much as the others. My job has always been to hold the fort and make sure everyone else is okay.” I wipe my hands in the white apron. “When was the last time you ate?”
He looks distraught as if my question requires a complicated answer.
“I’ve had a cheese muffin this morning.”
“Oh my, you must be starving. There is no way that I’m leaving you with bread and cheese. Hop upstairs and make yourself at home in Scott’s room.” I make a sweeping motion to his bag and his clothes. “Then come down and freshen up. I’ll prepare something to eat in the meantime.”
He shoots upstairs like someone glad to get away. He stops halfway.
“Don’t go to any trouble. I don’t think I can eat much.”
“I have vegetable soup and can fry a steak. Is that okay? We both need to keep up our strength.”
“Sure. Give me ten minutes.”
He disappears into Scott’s room and closes the door behind him, leaving me with a hollow pain in my tummy. Nothing feels right.
I turn to the cooking range and get the pot of soup from the pantry. It’s better to distract myself with cooking than to brood. The last thing I need is to fall into a dark pit myself.
Chapter Seven
Lilly: 4 March 2017, Before Sunrise, Wright’s Homestead
I’m flying. I didn’t know I could. This comes as a surprise. I was always afraid of heights because looking down gives me a funny feeling in my stomach. It feels like when I was a child and they took bone marrow out of my sternum. They thought all those unexplained bruises meant I had leukemia. Hah, leukemia my dainty foot. Try child abuse.
From up here, the landscape looks stunning with luscious green hills and mysterious valleys that rise to a string of snow-covered mountains. Winding roads connect small villages and snake past streams in a gorgeous patchwork of fields.
I’m frightened. There is something I forgot. It lurks in the distance like one of those clouds on the horizon that pile up like an angry wall, ready to unleash mayhem onto the people on the ground. Frustration grips me. What did I forget?
It can’t have been important. I’m flying. Nothing binds me to the ground. If I want, I can throw my soul to the stars or join the nearby flock of birds, gliding on invisible thermals. Swirls of clouds drift by as if invisible currents carry them. I reach out and their fine consistency kisses my skin and leaves a pleasant film of moisture on my face.
Way down I spot a coastline. Waves are pounding the rugged cliffs, creating a swirl of white foamy crowns. Oh, how much I love the coast. Maybe I am a creature of the sea? I try to inspect my body to check whether I wear a mermaid’s tail, but I can’t turn my head. Something isn’t right.
Never mind.
I want to … I can’t remember … Something isn’t right. Something heavy weighs my feet down and there is no salty spray to taste. I lick my lips. They are dry like parched earth.
“You are awake, thank God.”
I try to shoo the voice away but I can’t move
my arm. I want to fly with the birds again but I can’t move.
“Go away.” My words are loud and clear in my head but my ears only register a hoarse, croaking sound. Was that me? I have to get away. It was a mistake to fly down. I should have stayed up in the sky. I try to push off the ground and soar up again where I can play with the birds and be free. No matter how hard I try, I can’t.
“Shh, calm, you are safe.”
That annoying voice is familiar, but I can’t quite remember … it would be … No. It’s not coming. Not to worry. If it’s important, it’ll come to me. Why is it so dark? The sun was here just a second ago. Where did it disappear to? I try to lift my head but I can’t move it.
What’s happening?
“Please, stay calm. I restrained you so you don’t hurt yourself.”
Restraints? I try to open my eyes but all I make out is a hazy, dark, unfamiliar room. Perhaps I’m in heaven?
“You got me worried. I was about to ring for a doctor. Everything will be okay now. I’m here to look after you.”
There is a crazy person close by who thinks I need looking after? Ha. All I need is to push off, fly up again and leave this place behind.
“Shh, calm, you’ll only hurt yourself.”
I grind my teeth. I’ve had enough of this. If this guy doesn’t watch it he’ll be the one needing looking after. The fog is lifting. I blink a few times and the shape of a man comes slowly into focus. He puts a faint smile on his face, but his sad big brown eyes tell a different story.
I’m in a strange room and no longer on the beach or in the sky. Disappointment and loss hit me so hard, I hold my breath for the next punch. I’m on a bed. Someone has tied my hands and feet to the bed frame. Without warning a shock wave of fear explodes in my head. Where am I? Who is this man? I try to wiggle out of the ties.
“Let me go. Who are you?”
“It’s me, Tom.”
“It’s-me-Tom, I don’t know you. Go away.”
“Your lawyer, Elise. Don’t you remember?”
Elise? I try the name on and let it roll off my tongue to see if it fits. Nah. It doesn’t. I need to get away from this crazy person. I need to get up, I need to pee, and I need to get out of here.
Beyond the Tree House Page 4
