Imp

by Andrew Neiderman

  She looked at him with a terribly serious expression on her face and then, she broke into a laugh. It was a short, soft laugh, which he thought was kind of cute. He liked the way she looked sideways at him, giving him what he thought was a very sexy look. He had suspicions about private girls like Faith: they harbored greater frustrations. He didn’t tell any of his friends about it, though, and he especially didn’t tell them of his interest in Faith Oaks. They thought she was too weird.

  “Say,” he said, “why don’t you and I go rowing tonight? It’s going to be a warm night. It’ll be fun.”

  “Oh, I can’t,” she said quickly. “I’ve got to study.”

  “Me too, but we can’t study all night. It’s good to take breaks. Your mind works better.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “Mr. Pellerman. He oughta know; he’s a genius.”

  “Well my mind works fine without breaks.”

  “I’ll call you later. Maybe you’ll change your mind.”

  “No, I don’t want you to call!”

  He looked at her. She seemed genuinely terrified.

  “Well, what’s the harm in that?”

  “I know I won’t be able to go.”

  “You mean your mother won’t let you go?” She didn’t respond. They drove on in silence for a while. “Can’t you sneak out somehow?”

  She thought about it. There was a way she could sneak out. She could wait until her mother got involved in her Bible programs and then tell her she was going up to bed. She could go out her window and down the old metal fire escape Grandpa Oaks had built when they had increased their intake of tourists forty years ago. It was old and rusty, but she had been out on it before. There was no danger if she were careful.

  “It wouldn’t be right.”

  “But you could do it. I know you can,” he said smiling. “We’d have a good time. It’s beautiful out there at night. Let’s do it,” he added, his voice filled with a childlike excitement that infected her.

  “I don’t know,” she said. Even that statement seemed sinful.

  “How’s nine o’clock sound? I’ll wait for you by the path behind your house.”

  “How do you know about that path to the lake?”

  “I’ve been around. Don’t forget, I grew up here, too.”

  He pulled into her driveway and started up toward “The Oaks.” Even though there was at least another good hour before her mother would be home, she was very nervous about it.

  “Stop here,” she said. “Please!”

  “Sure.”

  “Thanks for the ride,” she said and opened the door quickly.

  “Nine o’clock,” he called after her. She didn’t turn around. “I’ll really be disappointed if you don’t show. So will you,” he added.

  She smiled, but she didn’t turn around for him to see. He watched her hurry up the drive toward the big, dull-looking house. Even now, in daylight, it looked dark and sad to him. He didn’t like going near it. When he was younger, he was afraid to go close to it. His mother’s description of Mary Oaks frightened him. Once, when she was mad at him for wandering too far from their house, she told him that Mary Oaks could have gotten him and made him do some terrible religious ritual. From what he had seen of her, he believed it. She reminded him of some kind of wild bird, a mad vulture. It was hard to believe that Faith was really her daughter. But his father told him that once Mary was a pretty woman.

  “Before she got so wrapped up in hellfire and brimstone. It changed her, like something inside her sucking the life out of her. I always felt sorry for Tom,” he had said.

  When Faith disappeared from sight, Bobby backed the truck out and started away. He wondered if she would be there at nine o’clock. She had been so frightened. Maybe it was wrong of him to tempt her into it. If she got caught, it would be his fault. Then he considered the possibility of getting caught with her down at the lake. What if Mary Oaks followed them in the dark? He shuddered. This whole thing might have been a terrible mistake. Faith was quite different from other girls her age and she did act strange at times. If there were some kind of scene, his parents would get mad and Mary Oaks …

  This is stupid, he thought. It’s stupid to be afraid of some crazy, skinny woman. Just to emphasize the point and support his own courage, he gunned the engine and spun around the turn in their driveway, sending gravel flying up behind him. Then he concentrated his thoughts on Faith and the way her body moved under that long, loose skirt. He thought of the smooth lines of her neck and he thought of her undiscovered breasts lying softly and fully beneath that silly, out-of-fashion high-necked blouse.

  It drove all hesitation from him. He’d be there at nine o’clock, waiting and hoping.

  Cy Baum stepped out on his side porch. He had just sent his son and granddaughter out to see the rabbit he had gotten for her. He had kept it as a surprise until after supper, telling her he had named it “Buttons,” just as she had always wanted.

  He started to loosen his belt to give his full stomach some relief, but paused instead. He could tell from the way Arnold was leaning over and embracing Gina that something was wrong. After a moment, the four-year-old girl’s shoulders shuddered and Arnie squatted beside her to comfort her.

  “What’s wrong?” Cy called. His granddaughter broke from her father and ran toward him, the tears streaming freely down her cheeks now.

  “Oh Papa, he’s gone! Someone opened the cage and let him out!”

  “What?” He took her into his long, brown-speckled hands and held her against his leg. “What’s she talking about, Arnie?”

  His son came toward him, his arms out, palms turned upward as usual, looking stupid and helpless. Here he was, forty-three years old, earning more income yearly than Cy had seen in ten years of work, and yet, he could not handle the simplest problems. For Cy it was as though his youngest son had skipped a whole area of development and somehow gone off to college to graduate with honors. Now he was a chemical engineer living in White Plains; a father with three kids, two of whom were spoiled rotten by his wife, Bea. Cy thought it was characteristic of the newer generations that his daughter-in-law couldn’t boil water, needed a cleaning lady four times a week, and a mother’s helper as much as possible. Yet, she was a pretty woman, too pretty for Arnie, who he thought was homely. Cy’s two older boys were much better looking, but their wives weren’t half as pretty as Arnie’s. There was no logic to it, he thought.

  Cy usually kept these thoughts to himself, but Hilda was angry today, because Bea hadn’t driven up with Arnie and Gina. When Hilda wanted to know why, Arnie said she was too exhausted. Then Hilda, in that dry, sarcastic way of hers Cy loved so much, asked, from what? Arnie then listed Bea’s life—her charity work at the hospital, the tennis league, her shopping at the mall, and her woman’s club theater parties.

  “Well, things must be a little easier for her this year with Teddy and Sammy at school.”

  “They are,” Arnie said, “but Gina’s a full-time job.”

  “You still have the mother’s helper, don’t you?” Hilda pursued. Cy loved to watch this—her gentle demolishment of Arnold. He hemmed and hawed. Yes, but the woman’s been unreliable, sick often, etc. And then they didn’t have her on weekends anymore. “What happened?”

  “She just couldn’t do it and it’s been difficult getting someone else we can trust.”

  “It’s very hard living in today’s world,” Cy finally said. Hilda and he looked at each other a moment and then both broke out in laughter. That was when Arnie took Gina out to look at her pet rabbit. Cy had gotten it two weeks ago in anticipation of their visit.

  “So?” he asked.

  “I don’t know, Pop. The cage door’s open and the rabbit’s gone.”

  “Open? What do you mean, open?”

  “‘Go look.”

  “Come, Gina, let’s look again. Look with Papa,” he said and he took her tiny hand into his. She wiped her face with a clenched fist and sobbed silently as they walk
ed back to the cage. Arnold followed closely behind.

  Although he had Cy’s frame and height, his physical appearance reflected his inner softness. He was at least twenty-five pounds overweight, most of it hanging on his waist and stomach. His face was bloated and his features were swollen—his lips thicker, his nose wider, and his chin closer to his neck. Also, he had taken after Hilda’s side when it came to hairline. His had already retreated considerably and his light brown hair, speckled with gray, had thinned to the point where his scalp was visible in many spots. In truth, instead of looking like the affluent, upper-middle-class man he was, he looked like someone who had recently recovered from a very serious illness. Cy was sorry that Arnie had grown up during the time when their farming enterprises were no longer profitable. Perhaps if he had worked harder, he’d be stronger now in many ways, Cy thought.

  “Damned if you ain’t right,” Cy said. He held the small cage door out and studied the latch. “No rabbit or fox could’ve opened this like that.”

  “What do you think, Pop?”

  “I think some little bastard on this street came by last night and either stole the bunny or let it loose,” he said and looked around the lawn as though he expected the rabbit might still be there.

  “Should we look for it, Papa?” Gina asked.

  “No, I don’t think we have much of a chance of finding it. Don’t worry, though. I’ll get another one today.”

  “But I liked the name, Buttons.”

  “We’ll call the new one Buttons, too,” Arnie offered.

  “If it’s a new one, you can’t call it Buttons,” she said, grimacing at her father. Cy liked that. This one had some spunk and took after him, he thought.

  “We’ll call it Buttons II, get it. Buttons with a two after it.”

  “No,” Cy said. “This time we’ll let Gina pick out the name. OK, Gina?” His granddaughter nodded and embraced him tightly.

  “You been having trouble like this, Pop?” Arnie asked.

  “Naw, this is the first thing like this. I mean, I had raccoons steal stuff, break into the garage and the like, but nothing like this.”

  “Got any ideas?”

  “I don’t know. There are a few kids on the street now. Hardly any of ’em come down this way, though. Those Cooper kids one house past us are hell raisers. Coulda been them.”

  “Want me to go over there and take a look?”

  “Hell no. We don’t need no arguments. Come on,” he said, “we’ll take a ride up to Willie Cotter’s place and see if he’s got another rabbit for us.”

  “Maybe we can take it home, too. Can we, Daddy? Can we?”

  “I don’t think so, Sweetie. We don’t have any place for it.”

  “You’ve got a helluva backyard down there,” Cy said.

  “Yeah, but you know how Bea feels about animals, Pop.”

  “Yeah, I know,” he said sadly. “We’ll keep it here, Gina, and that way your father will visit more, eh?” He winked at his granddaughter and she smiled up at him. She’s a smart one, he thought; she’s on to him already.

  “Arnold,” Hilda called from the porch, “Bea was just on the phone. She said you forgot about the Robinsons’ affair tonight.”

  “Oh damn.”

  “Said you’d better start back immediately.”

  “But Daddy,” Gina said, “we gotta go with Papa and get another rabbit.”

  “We can’t, honey. We’ll do it next time.”

  Gina began to cry again, this time clinging to Cy’s pants.

  “Why don’t you leave her here with us for a few days, Arnie?” Cy asked. Gina paused and held her breath in anticipation.

  “I can’t do that, Pop. We didn’t bring any of her stuff.”

  “We got what she’ll need and we’ll get whatever else she needs.”

  “Her clothes, her underwear, socks …”

  “I’ll buy her a new outfit and some underwear and socks,” Cy said and stroked his granddaughter’s long blond hair. She turned her cherry vanilla face up to him hopefully. She has the best of Bea’s features, Cy thought—the little upturned nose, the ice-blue eyes, the small mouth that tucked in just a little at the corners, making for a cute smile, and the same soft blond hair that looked so rich and healthy, she could model for shampoo commercials.

  “I don’t know, Pop. Bea might…”

  “Bea’ll be happy. You won’t need that unreliable mother’s helper for a few days.”

  “Please, Daddy, please.”

  “Well … all right,” he said. “I’ll be back up on Thursday. I’ll come after work.”

  “Why don’t you wait until next weekend? Bea could come up with you and you could make a day of it. She hasn’t been here for a while.”

  “I’ll see, Pop,” he said.

  “Go and tell Grandma you’re staying,” Cy said. His granddaughter shot off instantly, her little legs wobbling with her enthusiasm. He had to laugh.

  “You’re sure she’s not going to be a problem for Mom?”

  “Well, son, your mother brought up three of you, kept this house, helped me in the fields often when we had the farm going, and even took a side job for a time when we had those bad days.” Arnold knew he was referring to the time he had gotten hurt on one of his carpentry jobs. “You were already fifteen then, but there was still a lot to do.”

  “I know what you mean, Pop, but she might be tired by now. She’s no kid.”

  “What your generation doesn’t understand, Arnie, is that often, work, good work, makes you stronger and happier. There’s all kinds of pleasures and all kinds of reasons to be alive.”

  “OK, Pop, OK. I was just asking.”

  Cy nodded. He looked back at the disturbed rabbit cage and shook his head.

  That night he took his granddaughter to his friend’s farm up in Neversink. Willie Cotter was more than eager to get rid of another rabbit. Gina named it Silver Bell, because it was the color of silver and it had a head she said was shaped like a bell. They put it in the cage and she spent all her time with it, up to when she had to go into the house to eat and to sleep.

  She was the first up in the morning, eager to give her new rabbit breakfast. Hilda prepared something and the two of them went out to feed it. Cy was in the bathroom shaving when he heard his wife’s scream. He nearly cut his chin. He went to the window and opened it quickly.

  “What is it?”

  “There,” Hilda said. She pointed to the opened cage and then to the right. This rabbit had been freed, too, only this one lay nearby, dead. When he came downstairs and looked at it in amazement, he discovered that its neck had been broken.

  “Why?” Hilda asked him. He looked down at the pathetic animal and shook his head. When he turned to her, his face was gray and his eyes were dark. She couldn’t remember when he had had such a look of sickly fear.

  “This ain’t no prank,” he said. “This is evil.”

  He picked up his distraught granddaughter and the three of them headed back into the house, a heavy silence now covering the morning. Inside, he kissed away Gina’s tears.

  “We’ll get another one,” he said, “only this time we’ll keep it in the basement. Willie Cotter’s going to think we’re having stew every night,” he told Hilda. She laughed and that broke their dark mood for the rest of the day.

  But toward evening, Cy thought again about the dead rabbit and the opened cage. He went out and buried the animal and then inspected the cage door. The latch worked perfectly; there was no way the rabbits could have gotten themselves out. He looked to the right and thought about the Cooper kids. He didn’t know them that well, but he couldn’t imagine them doing something this vicious and this senseless.

  The sun was going down quickly. By now its rays were well dissipated by the trees, as it sunk on the horizon. Long shadows were cast as always, but somehow they looked longer and darker this evening. He noted how quiet the birds were and how still everything suddenly seemed. A chill passed through him and he spun around quick
ly to look the other way. It was as though he had sensed something behind him, something out there where the bushes grew heavy and the grass was tall and thick. For the first time in all the years he had lived here, he was afraid of something on his own land, something that moved in the darkness and watched him unseen.

  He felt his heartbeat quicken; he felt the cold sweat break out on the back of his neck and he headed for the house. He couldn’t explain why, but he felt it was terribly important that his wife and his granddaughter not come out here when nighttime fell.

  FOUR

  He was out again. Each time had been more exciting than the last, and each time he had been more anxious to start. He was leaving earlier and earlier, realizing that once the big creature fed him and went upstairs, she didn’t return and he was free to do what he wanted.

  Tonight the sun was not quite gone and the added illumination changed the face of much of what he had previously seen. Colors were richer; the leaves were transparent and dazzling. Those that he could reach sparkled like jewels in his fingers. He tasted them and inspected them with a scientific curiosity, tracing the veins, studying the shapes and textures.

  The first time he touched a tree, he half expected it to move. He thought it was some kind of big animal. The large maple just outside his hole loomed above the house; its branches stretched like long, bony arms. He could think only of spiders, for the leaves of the maple formed a green web. It took him a moment to understand that it was the wind that moved them and not the tree moving itself. He sat directly under it and, without touching the trunk, looked straight up. When the branches dipped downward, he scurried away, terrified that the tree was going to seize him.

  It didn’t and he understood that it didn’t have that kind of power. When he explored it further, he saw that the bark was rough, but he could peel some of it off. He didn’t like the bitter taste, but he liked the strong, solid feel of the trunk. He embraced it, inhaled the scent of it, and felt a sense of security and confidence because of it.

  Overcoming his fear of trees, he was able to venture into the woods behind the house and even begin to pull himself up on smaller trees with lower branches. For him the branches were like the pipes in the basement that ran along the ceiling. He could raise himself gracefully onto them and place himself securely in the nooks where the branches and the trunk joined. As he grew less fearful, he climbed higher, discovering that the added height enabled him to see further and learn more about his surroundings.