Beyond the Tree House

by Gudrun Frerichs

  Have I ever mentioned that voices in the head can be a proverbial pain?

  “Go away Sky. I know what I said. But I gave him my heart and wouldn’t survive to lose him. It frightens me that he is so important to me and has so much power over my state of mind.”

  “You can’t blame the poor man for being in a coma.”

  Did I ever say I love talking to Sky in my head? I take that back and wish she’d go away. I’m in no mood for the voice of reason. If he loves me as he said often enough, he should have … I’m not sure what he should have.

  “Hey, you can’t be cross with Scottie. Fix it.”

  I can hear the fear in Lilly’s voice and feel guilty. I don’t want to scare her or anyone of the Tribe. So I hold Scott’s hand and glance at him while she moves back into the tree house. It takes a while until I see a flash of recognition in his eyes.

  “Elise?”

  “Yes.” My feelings seem to merge with the remnants Lilly left behind. It’s hard to tell where she begins and I stop. I hesitate. Shall I first kiss him or hug him, or scold him for giving me such a fright? Instead, I clear my throat and hold his hand to my cheek.

  “You’re back.”

  He looks at me with eyes flickering from right to left. I can tell he’s trying to connect the dots.

  “What happened? Where am I?” His voice sounds rough like sandpaper. He tries to lift his head. “The room is spinning.” With a groan, he sinks back into the pillow.

  “You are in the hospital. Don’t move, you need rest.”

  At least I think that’s what he needs.

  “Hospital? What am I doing in a hospital?” He tries to lift his head and flinches.

  “Getting better, I hope. You had a bad accident. Let me call the nurse.”

  I push the call button.

  “You look tired and pale.”

  Did he just comment on my looks?

  “Thanks for the compliment. You, however, look much better than you have for days.”

  “How long have I been here? What happened?”

  Before I find the words to give him an answer, a nurse comes into the room.

  “I see our patient is awake. How are you? I’m your nurse, Isabella.”

  “I’m hurting all over as if I fell under a truck.” He tried to smile, but it turned into a scary grimace. “Have I?”

  The nurse laughed and took his pulse. “No, you’ve had a bad knock on your head. The rest will come back to you, I’m sure. Let me get the doctor for you.” With a last glance to his heart monitor the nurse leaves the room.

  He reaches for my hand with such force, as if I was the anchor he needs to keep him steady.

  “I’m glad you’re here. I’m trying to recall … what happened to me? You are very pale. Are you okay?”

  I shake my head. “Yes, I’m okay now. But you’re not. You’re hurt. The surgeon said it’s pure luck that you are still with us. Pure luck.” I pause. “If Tom and I hadn’t found you when we did, you wouldn’t have made it. Don’t you remember?”

  He shakes his head and closes his eyes. “Where did you find me?”

  “About one hundred fifty yards behind your cabin.”

  In my mind appeared the image of us finding him beaten up and lifeless leaning against a tree. I gulp and push the image away.

  “To be precise, it was Prince who found you. Tom and I thought you had perished in the fire. I was sure I’d lost you.”

  His eyes stare past me at the wall. His lips move, telling a silent story and a flurry of emotions appear on his careworn face.

  “Fire?”

  “What fire?”

  He frowns and seems to try hard to remember what happened to him.

  “Your cabin … there was a huge blaze.”

  “I remember now … Five men arrived with pickup trucks … coming toward the house with petrol canisters … one of them had a crowbar and hit me over the head … I … I must have blacked out … next thing the fire was everywhere … I had to get out … make sure you are …” His voice fades, and his eyes fall shut.

  After a long minute, he forces his eyes open again.

  “I thought I’d never … I love you …”

  He sinks back into the pillow and closes his eyes. Scott’s steady breathing tells me he has drifted off.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Lilly: 14 March 2017, Morning, Wright’s Homestead

  The sound of the nearby stream dancing over the boulders in the riverbed joined with the crisp breeze tickling my face wakes me up. I bolt up and jump out of bed.

  Scottie is coming home today.

  There are days when you know from the very first rays of the sun that sneak through the morning clouds that it will be an exceptional day. Today is such a day. Scott is coming home.

  I swear the sun is much brighter than on other days … as it ought to be. It lights up the glorious, sapphire-blue sky. Even the breeze has a pleasant, crisp feel to it; whispering that fall has arrived. The colors of the bush are bright and shimmer jade-green like the West Coast pounamu found in the local riverbeds.

  Scott is coming home.

  If I were a dancer, I would swirl around and around on my toes until I collapse. If I were a singer, I would belt out the Ode to Joy until my voice gave up on me. I’m none of those. I’m simply me, good old Lilly, nothing special. Well, perhaps a little special. Isn’t everybody special who loves another person and can show it? At least that’s the story I’m sticking to.

  Yesterday Ama and Elise cleaned Scottie’s room all afternoon. I guess it’s their way of showing their love. Odd, if you ask me. Don’t ask me what they were doing all that time. At moments like that, I wonder how different we are. Did I ever clean up? Yes. Of course.

  But Tom, who used the room last, wasn’t messy and didn’t hide half-eaten sandwiches under the bed. Tom! Mister cleanliness in person. I wouldn’t be surprised if he even coined the phrase cleanliness is next to godliness. Not that I believe for a moment that one gets closer to Heaven by washing their hands often and or moping the floors. Anyhow, he wasn’t messy, walked into the house with muddy boots, or hid half-eaten sandwiches and apples under the bed.

  In my books, it was a wasted day. I could have used the time better checking out the cemetery. But Ama won using the argument she needed to teach Elise how to run a household. It feels like she’s preparing to go to the sanctuary and be with the little ones who already left us. I don’t want her to go. She is the closest thing to a good mother we ever had.

  There are only a few of us left. It scares me because it seems who stays and goes is not something we can decide. It happens, just like spring turns into summer. Will it happen to me too? I don’t want to go. Fate can’t be so cruel and give me a taste of love only to take it away so soon? Like you had your moment in the sun, now clear off!

  Most of my friends already went away. Luke has been gone for a while now. The same goes for Maddie and Toby, Lysette, Phoenix, Jimmy … too many. Our inner world is up in the air, moving and shifting all the time. Like tectonic plates that shape and re-shape the earth-crust with each earthquake. For such a long time our life was steady and predictable. All of us were always around. It may have been chaotic and more often than not unhelpful, but we were all there, helping the best we could.

  We need a road map for this new way of life. Everything, and I mean literally everything, has to be re-discovered. It’s as if we are babies … without the cuteness-factor, those little bundles come with.

  That we need to decide where to live is another big change. We have no idea where we want to live. I hate leaving Wright’s Homestead. I like it here because coming here has turned our life around in so many wonderful ways. Sky is right, though, we can’t live with the constant threat of an attack.

  She’s worried about the little ones who are still with us. It’s almost as if she’s more concerned about them than us older ones. I was going to say adults, but Elise insists that I’m not an adult yet. I’ll have to have words with h
er about that. She’s getting too cocky.

  I call Prince but he just looks at me. Since Ama put a folded blanket in front of the cooking range, he has decided that’s where he’s going to hang out most of the day. When Ama’s cooking dinner, she has to climb over and around him. It looks hilarious because she’s not the typical gymnast with her large body. I chuckle about that, even when she sends me a stern glance.

  I thought dogs are always up and about, running around, sniffing at things, chasing things, and digging in the garden. He no longer does that. I guess he’s getting old. In human years he’s about seventy. He’s allowed to take it easy. Most of the time he’s lying on his blanket and dreaming of juicy bones, I’m sure. His twitching paw and his tail thumping on the floor now and then give this away.

  “Come on Prince, we’ll get some pine cones from the forest.”

  As soon as I get up and walk to the door, he pricks his ears and follows me. Everything to do with going outside is exciting. Dogs are easy. Sigh. I wish the tribe were too.

  I open the door and jump back. There, on the front step are … I look away and back to make sure I’m not hallucinating. Someone placed two dead possums on our front step as if they were dead rats, trophies brought home by a tomcat to show off his nightly prowess. But we don’t own a cat.

  My clammy hands are twitching and my heart is pounding, trying to keep up with my racing breath. My body doesn’t feel like my body anymore but like a humming bundle of electrical currents. Dead possums.

  I stare at their lifeless bodies. My brain forms no coherent thought. Time stands still. All I hear is a roaring in my ears. I stare at my feet in an attempt to gain control over my out-of-control body.

  I swallow hard and Prince nudges my hand that is no longer holding the door handle but falls to my side. A wave of fear touches the Tribe and swallows us up like the incoming tide swallows the beach until nothing but rocks are left for the surf to pound at.

  Why didn’t Prince warn us?

  “A fine guard dog you are. Someone came to the house and dropped the dead animals and you didn’t notice?”

  He must have picked up the annoyance in my voice. As if to make up for his lapse, he rushes to the gate and barks like a hellhound.

  “Now you’re barking? Chasing possums now?”

  I rush after him and bend down to clip him to the leash. The last thing I need is a dog going AWOL. Not today. When I stand up again, I hear the sounds of an approaching car.

  “Good boy.”

  Prince redeemed himself. I give him a few scratches behind the ear to make him feel good and to get my tension under control. Who can that be?

  A police car appears in our clearing and stops at the gate. Ever since the police raided our house eighteen months ago because they thought we murdered our lawyer we get goosebumps when we see one of their cars. That’s silly, I know. There are some rotten apples among them, like everywhere, but we’ve met some amazing police officers since the kidnapping.

  A police officer gets out of the car and tips his hat.

  “Good morning. I’m looking for Ms. Seagar.”

  “I’m Ms. Seagar. What can I do for you, Officer?”

  He shows me his badge.

  “I’m Detective Sergeant Parker. We are investigating the arson attack on Mr. Thompson. I spoke with him yesterday afternoon and he mentioned you saw two pick-up trucks coming down the valley from the direction of Mr. Thompson’s cabin.”

  “Yes, I did. I’d picked up our friend coming from Port Somers. We had to swerve to the roadside to make space for the trucks speeding toward us. It was a miracle we didn’t end up in the ditch.”

  “Were you able to see the passengers?”

  He has such a hopeful expression; I hate to disappoint him.

  “There wasn’t time. They drove so fast, I had to react quickly to avoid a collision. There were three people in the first truck and two or three in the second. The vehicles were covered in dirt. That’s why we first thought they must have been from DOC, you know, doing lots of off-road driving and going through riverbeds. But DOC said they had no people in the region that day.”

  “I guess you couldn’t make out a number plate.”

  “No, everything went too quickly. It must have been older vehicles because the paintwork on the hoods was dirty white with blue patches.”

  He closed his notebook and looked around. “You have a beautiful spot here. Aren’t you a bit concerned living by yourself out here, after next door’s arson attack?”

  I shake my head and pull Prince a little closer.

  “Prince is usually good at letting us know when someone approaches the house.”

  I stop. Shall I tell him about this morning? I glance over at the officer. I haven’t seen him before. He’s probably the replacement for the corrupt officers who helped cover up the Gateway pedophile organization.

  “Although, he didn’t warn me this morning when someone put two dead possums on my doorstep. Maybe he’s getting old?”

  The young officer frowns and takes his time to look around again.

  “You don’t have cats?”

  I shake my head.

  “Possums are too big for cats. Anyhow, cats don’t use firearms. The possums were shot. I put them on the compost in the back if you want to check them.”

  “If you don’t mind. You are sure none of your friends could have pulled a practical joke?”

  “My only friend is in hospital.”

  He rubs his chin and looks at Prince. “He’s not that old. Is it possible he knew the person who did it?”

  I hadn’t looked at it from that perspective. “That’s a scary thought. I’m relying on Prince for my security. Mr. Thompson installed all sorts of lights and alarms, but all of those can be disabled by a person who knows what they’re doing.”

  “There isn’t much I can do at the moment, other than informing the team at the next meeting about the dead possums. We might dispatch a patrol car once or twice a day until we solve the arson case, but I can’t promise anything.”

  “Thank you very much. To know you take the matter seriously is already a relief.”

  “We’ll stay in touch. Either myself or someone else from our team.”

  “Thanks, Officer Parker.”

  I watch him drive off until the trees at the end of our clearing swallow him and his car. I return to the house and sit on the iron chair near the front door. Prince puts his head on my knees. I stroke him. My thoughts, however, are miles away, searching for the unknown person who wishes us ill.

  “Do you know the person who put the possums at the door?” Prince licks my hand but I don’t think it means anything other than he just likes licking and he loves me.

  Nobody from the Tribe is talking to me. Everything is quiet inside my head. They are such chickens! So, it’s back to good old Lilly getting things done.

  My rumbling stomach reminds me that I haven’t had breakfast yet. It’s still early and I have hours until I am expected at the hospital. I’m going to get breakfast in town and then pop over to the cemetery to say hello to Auntie Amanda and the parents.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Lilly, 14 March 2017, Late Morning, Port Somers

  I’m not sure how I feel about the police becoming my bosom buddies. Not that I have anything to compare them to. I never had one; bosom buddy that is. When a lively bunch of other’s living inside your head, the issue of outside friends is—putting it mildly—confusing. Remember a lion tamer in the circus in the olden days when showing off wild animals was still okay? Yip. Just like that. Fifty lions of all sizes and no-one with a hat and a whip to keep them in order.

  The other thing is, it’s hard to keep track of who’s friends with whom. Imagine the chaos because we all, without exception, have very different tastes and needs in friendships. What would a friend of Amadeus’ compare to a friend of Maddie’s? I remember when we were little and still went to school; we never had a close friend. It’s too hard when you shift and change all
the time. We only made friends among us. So much easier.

  Anyhow, the police always scared us. It started after another girl at school asked Maddie how she broke her arm and Maddie told her what happened in the big White House. Of course, the girl told her parents, the parents rang the school, and the school called in the police and our parents.

  Nobody believed Maddie’s story and they expelled us for a week. The parents were furious and asked the police officer to put us in a cell overnight as punishment for lying. And—can you believe it—they did. They jailed a seven-year-old girl. We never trusted the police again and Maddie never again tried to be friends with anybody on the outside.

  So, now they are patrolling by our house to make sure we are okay? I don’t know what to think about it. This is such a crazy upside-down situation. Maybe Scott can convince me it’s a positive thing when I pick him up later today.

  When I pick him up today!

  My heart soars and I want to shout it from the rooftops: I pick up Scott today.

  I wish we had better weather, but dark rain clouds loom over Port Somers’s promising rain later on. Still, it can’t dampen my joy.

  I’m listening inside to see whether Elise is coming too, but she went into hiding the moment she saw the police car. I wish she wouldn’t do that, but I’m not judging her. One thing I’ve learned over the last year is not to judge my fellow Tribe members. And yes, there are times I slip up, especially when it comes to abusers, molesters, and wife-beaters. In general, however, I’m not a judgmental person.

  Sometimes a part is not pulling as much weight as I hope or expect. They could have a bad day or are caught in painful flashbacks or crazy thinking. None of is waking up in the morning thinking today I’m fucking up our life. Pardon my French. We all want to be happy and lead a good life. Everyone does the best they can. If we could do any better, we would. It’s as simple as that.

  Elise is a no-show this morning and it’s up to me again. At times I get tired of having to be the strong one. I’d love to be like the others, have the choice to go into hiding when trouble knocks on our door, or sleep in front of the fireplace like Prince and—oblivious of everything—let the world pass by. But I can’t. Someone has to show up and take control. Sky said I got that from my German grandmother. Dutiful no matter what happens. Thanks, grandma Schumacher … not!