“Mary’s doing fine,” the nurse said. “She remembered me today. I have to leave now before it gets dark.”
“Yes, of course.” His grandfather walked over to their bedroom door and peered inside. He waved Michael to come over.
Michael went to his grandfather’s side. His grandmother was lying in bed with the sheets pulled up to her chin and her mouth agape. The small bedside lamp cast a harsh shadow across her face. Her eyes locked onto his and watched him as he stepped in closer.
“It’s okay,” his grandfather said. “No need to be shy.”
Michael took another step. The floor squeaked beneath his feet.
“Oh, I forgot to ask the nurse something.” His grandfather turned away. “Let me see if she’s gone yet.”
He was alone with his grandmother.
Her eyes and face lit up. “Oh, it’s you!” she whispered.
“Hi, Grandma,” he whispered.
“Well, come here.” She beckoned him with her fingers. He cringed from the antiseptic and stale air. He forced a smile and walked over to give her a hug. Her outstretched arms wrapped around his chest, although her grip was only a gentle touch. Her arms rested around him for a moment, and then slid back to her bed.
“Are you okay?” Michael asked. What a stupid question.
The corners of her mouth rose, and her eyebrows lowered into her familiar squint. “I’ve been better.”
Michael looked around the bedroom. His grandmother’s paintings covered the walls. One painting showed the same sprawling black spider-like animal as the one he’d seen along the stairwell. The arms in this painting spread over the roof and sides of a farmhouse.
“I thought you were dead,” she said.
Michael’s brow dropped, and he focused on her. Was she joking? His grandmother liked to make jokes. “No, Grandma, I’m not dead.”
“Weren’t you in a car accident with your son, Michael?”
“I’m Michael, Grandma.”
“Oh?” Her face crinkled, and she squinted at him.
“I’m staying here for the summer.”
She shook her head, and her eyes bulged wide open. “Don’t go outside.” She shook her finger at him. “The shadows are alive.”
“I know. Grandpa told me.”
“You shouldn’t be here.”
Michael wrapped his arms across his chest. He glanced back at the painting on the wall and gestured to it. “What did you paint, Grandma?”
She craned her neck to see what he was pointing at. She laughed. “Death.”
5
The next morning his grandfather prepared breakfast for him. A big bowl of his favorite cereal. “I assumed you still eat cereal.”
Michael nodded. “Yes, thanks Grandpa.”
Michael ate without the usual blaring TV in front of him.
“Your mom said you haven’t driven a car since the accident,” his grandfather said from across the kitchen table. “Is that true?”
Michael froze with a spoonful of cereal hovering above his bowl. Panic flashed through his chest, and his breathing stalled. His grandfather gazed into his eyes with the same intense stare his dad had used when he was serious. “Yeah.”
“You feel like driving again?”
Michael shook his head. “No.”
“Why not?” His grandfather reclined in his chair with his arms folded over his chest.
Did he need to ask that? Michael studied his grandfather’s face. Was he joking? Was his grandfather getting dementia too?
“You got to get back on that pony and ride,” his grandfather said. “We’ll take the car out for a drive after breakfast. I’ll help you.”
“No.” Michael was emphatic as he finished the last bite of cereal in his bowl.
His grandfather waited, motionless. “Why not?”
That question again? Alzheimer’s? Michael shifted in his seat and a chill passed through him. Why would he get behind the wheel again after what had happened? His hands shivered, and he dropped the spoon into the bowl.
“I can’t drive,” Michael said.
“Nonsense,” his grandfather said. “It’s time you gave it another chance. We’ll go slowly. Not much traffic out here anyway.”
Why was his grandfather doing this to him? He sank into his chair.
“You’ll be fine,” his grandfather said. “I’ll check on Mary, and then we’ll head out.” His grandfather got up and went into their bedroom.
Michael pushed the cereal bowl away and ran his fingers through his hair. How could he get out of this? His grandfather returned a moment later.
“She’s asleep. We’ll get back before she wakes up.”
He dropped his hands to his hips and dug his thumb into the pocket of his jeans to touch his cellphone out of habit, as if expecting a message any moment. His phone was gone. He shuddered and jolted forward. Where was his phone? He let out a deep breath and remembered he’d left it in his room upstairs, charging.
“Just a minute, Grandpa. I want to get my backpack.”
“We won’t be gone long. You don’t need it.”
“I better bring it just in case.” Michael stood up and hurried upstairs.
Hadn’t his mom said there’d be a bike for him to ride? He hadn’t ridden a bike for a long time, but it didn’t matter. He’d ride it all the way back to California if it got him an Internet signal. Nobody would die if he rode a bike. He shook his head. His grandfather wanted to die if he forced him to drive that rusting red Cadillac in the driveway. He’d shoot the car off through a cornfield and slam into a tree just like he’d done with his dad’s car. This time he’d “forget” to latch his seatbelt and make sure it’d be his last.
Should he lock himself in his room upstairs and refuse to go? It wouldn’t do any good anyway. His grandfather was as stubborn as his dad was or worse. There’d be no arguing with him. His grandfather stood a little over six feet and filled his shirts with muscle from a career in the marines and a lifetime of physically demanding jobs like salvaging scrap metal from demolished houses to road construction.
Michael stuffed his cellphone into his backpack with the idea he would search for a cellphone signal at every corner in town, and if that didn’t work, then he’d escape somewhere and play video games until his battery died. He threw in some snacks from the airport and his baseball cap.
He went downstairs, grabbed a bottle of water from the pantry, and added it all to his backpack. When he stepped outside, his grandfather handed him the keys to the Cadillac. A metal key chain from a Vegas casino clinked against the keys. His grandfather led him out the door, and the keys jingled in his trembling hand. His heart raced faster with every step toward the car.
“I’ll have an accident, you know,” he said to his grandfather.
His grandfather laughed a little. “Nonsense. You just need to take it slow and get solid practice.”
After tossing his backpack into the backseat, Michael climbed in the driver’s seat and buckled his seatbelt. His stomach churned as he adjusted the mirrors and pushed up the seats. His grandfather was looking out the window as if it was just another normal trip into town. Michael looked in the rearview mirror. He’d have to back the car out of the driveway since there wasn’t room to turn around.
He turned the key, and the engine rumbled to life.
“Take a deep breath,” his grandfather said.
Michael put the car in reverse and tapped the gas pedal until the car inched backward. He pushed down harder on the gas pedal, and the car lurched backward, throwing both of them forward in their seats. Michael slammed the brake and the car ground to a halt.
“Uff-da!” His grandfather threw his hands on the dashboard.
Michael dropped his hands from the steering wheel and hunched forward.
“Let’s try that again,” his grandfather folded his arms over his chest.
“I can’t drive, Grandpa.”
“That’s BS. Try again.”
Michael inched the car back agai
n as he made his way out of the driveway, and then started down the gravel road toward town. His fingers turned white as he clutched the steering wheel. His foot rested on the gas pedal with little pressure and kept the speed to below 20 miles per hour.
“Give her some goose,” his grandfather urged.
He sped up to 25 mph, then to 30, 35 and 40. The gravel road crackled against the underside of the car. The dust kicked up and spread in his rearview mirror.
“No problem,” his grandfather said.
Michael sped up to 45 mph, and within a couple of minutes, the cemetery at the end of the road came into view. The main road through town crossed perpendicular to them. Behind the black metal fence lining the cemetery stood the grid of stone memorials and headstones that caught his eye. He was headed straight for the arched doorway of the main entrance. How easy it would be to unlatch his seatbelt and speed forward until the inevitable collision propelled him through the windshield, smacking headfirst into one of those memorials or a tree.
“Take her down a notch,” his grandfather said. Out of the corner of his eye, Michael saw his grandfather strain his foot into the floorboard as if pushing on an invisible brake.
Michael jumped his foot from the accelerator to the brake as they came within a few car lengths of the crossroad. They lurched forward, and his seatbelt locked, digging into his neck. The car slowed and then stopped. His grandfather didn’t speak. No cars approached from either direction, so he hit the gas again, throwing them both back into their seats. His grandfather groaned. A few moments later, the speed dropped to under 30 mph again.
“You’ll be okay,” his grandfather said.
Michael wasn’t so sure. His fingers ached, and he veered to the right as he passed his first car. He drove several blocks, flowing with momentum until the right wheel hit a pothole and the steering wheel slipped through his fingers for a moment.
“Welcome to Minnesota,” his grandfather said. “Land of 10,000 potholes.”
Michael forced a smile. His grandfather’s scowl faded and then erupted again.
“Look out!” His grandfather clutched the dashboard.
A barking dog charged in front of the car from the right, and Michael jerked the steering wheel to the left to avoid hitting it. He swung around the dog and whipped back to the right again. He pressed the gas pedal instead of the brake, and the car smashed into the curb, flying up onto the sidewalk. Michael hit the brake, stopping inches short of a large oak tree. Pain sliced through Michael’s fingers as he released the steering wheel. His grandfather was leaning forward, both hands still clutching the dashboard.
“You okay?” his grandfather asked.
Michael nodded, unbuckled his seat beat and climbed out of the car. The door swung open, scraping the bottom edge across the pavement. The car’s left wheels were still on the road, and the car sloped down toward the driver’s side.
Michael circled to the front of the car. The oak tree almost touched the front bumper. His grandfather struggled out, and his door dropped shut behind him.
“I’m sorry,” Michael said.
His grandfather turned and put his hand on Michael’s shoulder. He didn’t speak until Michael met his eyes. “It’s not your fault.”
Two teenage girls approached them from the street behind them. He could see one of them was Rebecca.
“Are you okay?” she shouted. She had a backpack slung over her shoulder, the strap pressing down on her long straight brown hair.
His grandfather waved at them. “We’re fine. Just breaking in the new car.”
Rebecca laughed. “You’ve had that car for years, Artie.”
Michael turned his face away from them. He didn’t want to see Rebecca now. The car’s front bumper had scraped up a large chunk of grass and dirt.
His grandfather walked around to the driver’s side. “I’ll take it from here,” he said. “We’ll try again tomorrow.”
His grandfather nudged the driver’s side door, but the bottom corner was stuck in the pavement. He thrust his shoulder against it and the metal screeched across the asphalt. He climbed into the driver’s seat and shut the door. Michael opened the back door and pulled his backpack out, which had slid across to the other side. The engine whirred to life again, and his grandfather rolled down the window.
“I’m going to back out.”
Michael moved off to the side. The Cadillac’s engine revved, and the metal underbody howled as it scraped across the cement curb. The right side of the car thudded and shook down onto the asphalt. His grandfather dropped his arm out the window.
“Hop in.” His grandfather gestured with his head.
“I want to stay in town for a while, Grandpa.”
“And do what?” His grandfather’s eyes flicked toward Rebecca before giving him a knowing look.
“Walk,” Michael said. “I don’t want to drive anymore.”
His grandfather peered at him, and the creases in his face relaxed. “I’m not mad. Your dad scraped up my car good on his first drive into the cities. Came back home with a dent all the way across the side of the car. This is nothing. Nothing to worry about.”
Michael nodded. “I know you’re trying to help me. I’d rather just walk now. By myself. I’ll walk home.”
“I’d rather not leave you alone. Remember what we talked about last night?”
“I’ll go to the bowling alley.”
“That’s closed now.”
“I’ll be okay.” Michael turned away, strapping on his backpack.
“There’s a phone at the library you can use to call me. Stay with Rebecca. If you’re not home by 6 o’clock, I’ll come looking for you.”
Michael nodded and continued without looking back. His grandfather slowed the car as he passed Michael, holding his arm up to wave goodbye. Michael threw his hand up in reply and kept walking.
Rebecca and the other girl crossed the street toward him. Okay, okay, nothing to see here, folks. He rolled his eyes. Michael walked faster. Maybe he should go back the other way. He hoped by some miracle she hadn’t recognized him.
“Hey, Michael!” Rebecca yelled.
He stopped walking and took a deep breath, staring down at a web of cracks in the sidewalk. Their footsteps pounded louder behind him. He spun around.
“You okay?” she asked.
“Yep,” Michael said. He stepped back. She had soft, warm brown eyes. His self-anger melted. He looked toward the town’s center as if it beckoned him.
She laughed. “That tree almost ran right into you.”
He smiled.
The shorter girl glanced at her watch. “We should get going.”
“We’ve got plenty of time,” Rebecca insisted.
The shorter girl frowned and stared at Rebecca. She tapped her foot and glanced around as if someone was watching them.
“This is my friend, Maggie.” Rebecca touched her friend’s arm.
Maggie smiled at him, but kept her eyes on Rebecca. “Hi.”
“We’re on our way to a temple service at the high school,” Rebecca said. “Want to go with us?”
“A church service in a high school?”
Rebecca’s face lit up. “A lot of people show up. They don’t have room in that little church anymore.”
Michael shook his head and smirked. “No, thanks.”
Rebecca laughed. “It’s fun. You should come. We just goof around, and then eat the free lunch.”
“Rebecca, we should get going,” Maggie said. “Besides, he doesn’t want to go.” Maggie turned and took a step in front of Rebecca.
“It’s Saturday morning,” Michael said. “Who has church on Saturday morning?”
“We do,” Maggie declared.
Rebecca laughed again. “Like I said last night, it’s not like a regular church. You should come with us.” She reached out and took Michael’s arm. “The more the merrier, right neighbor?”
The warmth of her arm lured him. Strands of her hair brushed over his shirtsleeve.
Maybe they could help him find an Internet connection in town. “I guess.”
“Great!” Rebecca said. “This is just like Dorothy on her way to see the Wizard of Oz! Which character are you? Maggie’s the scarecrow.”
“No, I’m not.” Maggie scowled.
“Are you the Tin Man or the Cowardly Lion?” she asked him.
The coward. Definitely the coward. He shrugged.
“I’ll say the Tin Man,” she said. “Maybe we’ll run into the Cowardly Lion on our way. Only two blocks to go.”
“We’re… off to see the Wizard…” Rebecca linked her other arm with Maggie and skipped forward a step until Maggie yanked her back.
“Stop!” Maggie said. “Pastor John wouldn’t like that.”
6
Rebecca and Maggie shook hands with a bug-eyed short man as they made their way through the doors to the high school auditorium. Two men dressed in camouflage fatigues stood on either side of him. The man’s hair was cut short, like someone in the military, and his white suit and tie reminded Michael of the groom in a wedding.
“This is my friend, Michael,” Rebecca said to him. “He’s Artie Halverson’s grandson from California.”
The corners of the man’s mouth stretched wide, revealing perfect white teeth, but his grin stopped at his eyes. The man extended his hand. “Oh, Artie’s grandson. We know your granddad well. He’s quite a stubborn man. Nice of you to visit us. What brings you to Stone Hill?”
“Just a vacation.” Michael shook his hand.
“I’m Brother David. Enjoy your stay. Perhaps you’ll want to join the temple after you witness today’s miracles.”
Michael shrugged and Rebecca chuckled.
“Welcome to Stone Hill Risen Temple, Michael. Make yourself at home.”
Brother David locked eyes with Michael and then moved on to the man next in line. Maggie pulled Rebecca forward. Rebecca towed Michael along through the line filtering in and made their way to a seat on the bleachers.
Shadows Rising Page 4
