The Mahogany Door

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The Mahogany Door Page 7

by Mark Boliek

Chapter 7

  “But I don’t wanna go!!” a young voice screamed from the back of the great hall.

  I could just barely hear the little black-haired girl’s father explain to her that the storm outside was fierce and that her mother would be very worried if they weren’t home soon. She kicked and stomped her feet in dissatisfaction, then began to pout, but as the young father coaxed her close to the door, he whispered in her ear. After his seemingly magical words, she took his hand and off they went into the blinding rain with their jackets covering their heads.

  As I watched the sweet scene, I thought about how difficult I found it to leave a place I had discovered to be comfortable and inviting. In its condition now, with its sturdy walls, brand-new roof and immaculate accommodations, Warhead Dale was just that - even with the lights out.

  The other children who remained on the rug didn’t notice the distraction from the girl and her father’s departure, and they invited me back with hopeful eyes to continue my story.

  “JT and Michael packed up the rusted old car and headed out to the main road,” I resumed. “JT adjusted his side mirror and glanced at Gregory and Louise waving from the porch of the farmhouse he had called home for eight years. He would miss them so. His heart skipped but he breathed deeply to stay calm. Though this decision was the toughest he had ever made, it was final. He had to leave.

  He patted the duffel bag on the floorboard at his feet. Then he slipped his grandfather’s journal into the bag on top of a large sum of cash that Gregory had given to him before they left.

  Gregory did not trust banks. When he was younger, a handsome banker wearing a gray, pinstriped suit came to the farmhouse to take their farm from his grandfather. He remembered how much it hurt to see his grandfather suffer because he had no control over what the banker man was telling him. Fortunately, his grandfather managed to save the farm but at a very high cost - a cost Gregory never talked about; he swore, however, that he would never let something like that happen again. He kept his money in a safe in the attic far away from any banker man that might want to take it.

  Louise would tell him on occasion as he stashed his money away that he was an old stick-in-the-mud. Gregory, despite the teasing, held to his principles. He handed JT all the money that he had saved from the crops for the past eight years as he hugged him. ‘Might as well take this with you - you’ll get better use of it than if it were sittin’ in that old safe up in the attic,’ JT remembered him saying.

  ‘But you need to put it in a bank,’ Louise added, gently smacking Gregory on the shoulder and moving him aside. She then grabbed hold of JT tightly with both of her loving arms. ‘You know you always have a home here.’

  JT waved from the open window of the big, blue car and held back a tear. He then took his thumb and flipped the side mirror upward forcing his self not to look back. Louise wiped her face.

  He and Michael drove to the highway to begin their journey to Athens Eden. (His cane lay in the back seat under a soft blanket to keep it protected.)

  The road was long and winding, and JT quickly succumbed to a case of motion sickness as the car rumbled and bobbed down the highway. He watched the fields and trees pass by in a blur. This was farther than JT had ever traveled from the Shorts’ farm during the eight years he lived there. He did go to the store with Louise every once in a while.

  On some occasions, he went with the sole purpose of wanting to meet people. Living on a farm in the middle of nowhere did not help him in the friendship department. Perhaps he would meet a person - ‘then what?’ he would think. ‘Who would want to take a slice out of their life to come spend time with him?’ He might as well have lived in another country. The closest he had come to making new friends were the times he started a conversation with a checkout person at the grocery store or a waiter in a restaurant, but JT would always run out of things to talk about and the friendship that might have blossomed fizzled quickly. Louise wanted him to make friends, but like Gregory, she never pushed him to do anything.

  JT’s mind was still spinning from the events of the last couple of days. He was trying to process what Michael and Billy had told him and the carsickness did not help. He kept quiet for most of the first hour during the drive, breathing in fresh air from his cracked window. He refrained from pelting Michael with questions about events and people involved in the stories of his past that would probably only produce more questions.

  Between trying to settle his motion sickness and calming the thoughts that were going around like a pinball in his mind, JT panned around the bouncing, big, blue car. He didn’t have a chance to prod Michael about anything personal, but in the moments of investigating the interior of the rusted vehicle, he learned at least one thing about his new friend.

  There were numerous empty bags of chips, soda cans, and papers of all types strewn about the seats. Small mounds of clothing grew out of the floorboards in the back. The dash board, moldy and dried, had cracked from age under the sun. The windshield was littered with threads of damaged glass that looked like tiny spider webs. Michael looked like a little kid trying to steer the big car and he wiped his runny nose with his bare hand. ‘Slob,’ JT thought.

  ‘So -- wh--- he-- ay?’ JT heard Michael mumble through the roar of the engine while pushing his glasses back to the bridge of his nose; then he took a quick pick with his index finger.

  ‘What?!’ JT yelled out and pointed at his ear.

  ‘So what did he say?!’ Michael bellowed back and JT understood.

  ‘Who?!’ JT asked backed.

  ‘Billy!’ Michael peered at JT for a brief second as though he should have known who he was talking about. ‘He had to have come and seen you last night!’ The car jerked and Michael immediately looked forward, gripping the wheel a little tighter. ‘When he came in my dream, I told him you had some bones to pick with him! He must have gone, ‘cause I slept just fine!’ He then took a deep breath and smiled at JT. ‘I meant to thank you for that!’

  ‘Yeah!’ JT responded, ‘basically, Billy told me I needed to go back to Bruinduer. Apparently the only way I’m gonna find any of the answers I’m looking for is to go back myself!’ JT tried to sneak a little more fresh air. ‘I also told him to leave you alone!’ JT continued and Michael nodded his head in agreement. ‘I was really ticked though when he told me it was too late for Gregory’s grandfather’s tree.’ JT shook his head and leaned back. He wondered if the letters that Billy burned in the old oak would kill it.

  ‘That’s it?!’ Michael’s voice was full of disappointment. JT said nothing.

  There was an awkward silence though the engine still rumbled loudly under the hood of the old blue car. After a long pause, Michael broke in again. ‘He had to have said somethin’ else!’ The car slightly swerved.

  JT gaped out of the cracked window into the distance. He tried desperately to control his wooziness. He snapped back to reality when he realized that he lost his train of thought and continued his conversation with Michael. ‘Oh! Almost forgot!’ JT announced, taking another deep breath. ‘Everything’s happening so fast!’ He looked back toward Michael. ‘I wanted to tell you this morning but you were asleep and I didn’t want to wake you! He said somethin’ about you being first and having control, but he told me that he wanted control again!’

  Michael gulped. His face turned as white as a sheet of paper.

  ‘Do you know what that means?!’ JT asked, then realized he didn’t want to start with more questions. He still felt a little sick.

  ‘I have no idea!’ Michael replied quickly. ‘The only thing I can think of is that the first one through the Mahogany Door could control Bruinduer – remember?’

  ‘Yeah, I do remember now that you mention it,’ JT said. He wished he could have remembered that in front of Billy. It might have made more sense to him if he had brought that up. ‘I can’t seem to remember anything – short-term or long-term,’ JT mumbled under his breath as he shook his head.

  ‘I haven’t been back
to Bruinduer for years though! I have no clue what he’s talkin’ about!’ Michael shook his head and his face flushed with a look of panic. He thought about the last time he went through the Mahogany Door to Bruinduer. It was many years ago and it was a moment he wished would just go away. He fell silent.

  JT waited a moment. He could see that Michael was thinking of events that he did not want to discuss. JT then broke the awkward silence by asking Michael why his grandfather had named his house Warhead Dale.

  ‘That’s a good question! Your granddad was a strange guy! I don’t think I have ever heard how he came up with that name!’ Michael bellowed back with a laugh, and his horrible memory of Bruinduer faded quickly. ‘Strange to the bone! But it’s still not as strange as the question of how he came to own Warhead Dale!’ Michael shook his head. ‘I don’t even think that story’s totally accurate! You see, he never explained simple information like names and dates - just the weird stuff!’ JT looked at Michael, puzzled, and Michael continued, ‘you know, stuff like how Bruinduer changes around you or why Billy does what he does.’ Michael chuckled a bit.

  JT was glad to see that Michael had relaxed. His flushing panic had given way to a calmer tone. JT couldn’t help but think that Michael was still not in control of his emotions. He had acted the same way on the Shorts’ farm.

  ‘Some say,’ Michael resumed, ‘that he bought the house off some pirates. I think I heard, though, from another story that he won it in a poker game from some crazy professor!’ Michael’s voice was excited. ‘He had that house for decades and we loved it there! That place was great! Not only did we have the adventures of a lifetime, but it was filled with a sense of peace.’

  ‘What else can you tell me about him?! About my granddad?’ JT asked.

  ‘It’s all in that journal I gave you!’ Michael screamed back. ‘Didn’t you read it?’

  ‘I can’t read it! All of the words are fading away! I had to strain my eyes just to make out one passage!’ JT yelled back.

  ‘That’s weird,’ Michael mumbled to himself. He thought it strange because he did not have trouble at all reading the journal for years.”

  “The drive was getting longer, and the conversation between the long lost friends suffered. The two remained silent for another hour. JT’s head was pounding. He wanted to continue, but there was too much information to take in at one time. He just couldn’t talk about Warhead Dale or ask any more questions about his grandfather, Billy, or any other part of the Vryheid. The carsickness seemed to come in spurts, and no matter how much air he sucked through his cracked window, it would not settle.

  They rode for a few more minutes and Michael noticed JT’s struggle with the motion sickness. He found an exit ramp and pulled off the main highway. They found a little diner and ate lunch. JT did not eat much, but being still for thirty minutes really helped. After the brief stop and bite to eat, they continued their trek and talked about the landscape they were passing rather than the complicated story of Bruinduer. They drove by beautiful pine trees and thick woods full of birch and maple trees, whose leaves were changing from bright green to even brighter shades of orange, red, and yellow.

  JT felt a little of his wooziness come back, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle. He tried to think of things he could discuss besides the story of his granddad. He tried hard to interpret what Billy had said the night before in his dream; but to find the answers he wanted, he had to go back to Warhead Dale for himself. He then realized that he didn’t know anything about the strange young man with the horn-rimmed glasses sitting beside him in the car; except of course his tidiness – or lack thereof.

  ‘So tell me a little about yourself,’ JT said with reluctance. The motor in the car seemed a little quieter to JT ever since they had stopped to eat. The car definitely had a personality all its own.

  ‘What about?’ Michael asked in a distant voice, shrugging his shoulders.

  ‘I mean, you seem to know an awful lot about me and my family, but I don’t know anything about you,’ JT stated. He stared out at the vast dark fields that dominated the countryside. It reminded him of the Shorts’ farm. He could almost feel the smooth, thick ground between his fingers and smell the freshly plowed earth that he had left behind. ‘Can’t you tell me about how we met, maybe about your family or something?’

  Michael looked petrified and squirmed in his seat. He thought he might have to explain some things to JT about himself, but he had hoped to hold that conversation off for as long as possible. He wasn’t interested in talking about his past at all, but he didn’t want to upset JT. He felt he needed to say something.

  ‘We met each other when you moved to Athens Eden - you were eight years old, maybe nine.’ Michael began with a bit of nervousness. ‘Your dad moved your family here ‘cause your granddad got sick with cancer.’ Michael’s voice became more definitive. ‘You came to school and nobody liked you at all. I don’t know why, but all the kids thought you talked funny and kept to yourself. They laughed at you every day.

  Anyway, since I’d lived in Athens Eden and everybody knew me, I kinda took you under my wing - showed you around, became your friend. After that, everybody left you alone. You took me to meet ‘Ol Captain Luke. After some time, he started telling us about Billy and the Mahogany Door and his adventures finding the lost city of Hopian.’ Michael sniffed his nose with confidence, glanced at JT, then looked out toward the road. His right hand trembled.

  JT listened politely, trying to fight off the car sickness that was surfacing again. Michael sounded very confident and JT had no reason not to believe him.

  ‘I also wanted to say something yesterday when Louise was talkin’ about your mom and dad, but I didn’t want to seem rude by interrupting. They were so nice to me.’ Michael paused for a second to gather his thoughts. ‘Louise was right about your dad. He was real quiet and didn’t talk too much. But it wasn’t really because he was just that way, like Louise said. It was because he was so mad at Captain Luke for not being there for him when he was growing up. Captain Luke spent all that time on his whacked out adventures searching for Hopian. I overheard your dad arguing with your mom one time. Your mom wanted your dad to get over his hate toward your grandfather, but all your dad wanted to know was why he was burdened to have to come back to Athens Eden and take care of Ol’ Captain Luke. Especially since his dad never cared for him growing up.

  He was so mad he didn’t even move your family into Warhead Dale to live with Captain Luke. You guys lived in a little house across town from it.’

  JT laid his head against the door and hated the fact that he couldn’t remember anything. He closed his eyes. It helped with the motion sickness.

  The two drove on. Nothing Michael talked about seemed to faze JT. Michael told JT that over time, his grandfather got much sicker and that he and the old sailor became very close before he died. Then unexpectedly, Ol’ Captain Luke went out of his mind. Michael explained that the few years they spent around Warhead Dale and his grandfather were the best years of his life. He also admitted that even though he was terrified of Billy and despised the way he had treated him in his sleep - lack thereof - he was excited at the chance to go back and ‘relive’ some of the good old days.

  The apparently endless road continued beneath them, and the conversation went silent. JT dozed off.”

  “‘Almost there,’ Michael announced with an anxious grin. ‘About thirty minutes left to go.’

  JT snapped out of his trance; the sun had sunk deeper in the afternoon sky. ‘What time is it?’

  ‘Um, it’s about three o’clock. Perfect timing,’ Michael answered, peering through the cracked face of the clock in the dashboard.

  ‘Would it be possible…?’ JT began, looking down at his duffel bag, ‘I know its short notice, but could we stop at a bank?’ JT finished his question, remembering the discussion he had with Louise before they left the farm. ‘I want to keep this money Gregory gave me safe.’ He picked the duffel bag up off of the floor a
nd tapped it as it lay on his lap.

  Michael looked at JT, a little concerned about the time. He then relented. ‘Sure. I don’t see why not. We still gotta couple of hours before we have to meet Kali.’ Michael glanced at JT and then looked back to the road. ‘That’s if she got the letter in time,’ he mumbled.

  JT remembered Michael mentioning Kali the night before. He had not asked about her.

  Michael then told JT a little more about the delightful Kimberly Abigail Logan (a.k.a., Kali -- at least to her friends).”

  “Like Michael, Kali left Athens Eden shortly after JT’s mother was killed. It was said that her family moved due to ‘compensatory’ reasons, whatever that meant. Michael thought he had an idea but didn’t elaborate.

  Until then, she had lived in Athens Eden all of her life. Her father was a very important man in the town government and was a member on the board at the local bank. Her family was respected and adored in the sleepy little coastal town. Kali was the smartest, prettiest, and most popular girl at school. All the guys wanted to be her boyfriend. It was strange that her family had just picked up and moved without telling a soul.

  Michael didn’t leave the town quite as quickly as Kali’s family had, but he left just as abruptly. Michael mentioned that he wasn’t quite as stubborn as his sister who stayed no matter what people thought of her. From talking to his sister, visiting her over the years, and now living with her, said he knew from her account that the Logans never set foot in Athens Eden again.”

  “‘Here we are,’ Michael snapped. The big blue car screeched to a stop and let out a loud backfire as it pulled into the parking lot of the First Bank of Athens Eden. ‘Bang!’

  The two got out. JT breathed in fresh salty air and hung his duffel bag around his neck. Whatever remnants of car sickness he had simply disappeared. They walked into the little brick bank (of course, JT limped with his cane. I hope you remember that next time, if I don’t remind you). JT fumbled about in the open lobby and flipped through endless pamphlets on a long table in the middle of the ceramic floor. He had no idea what to do, but he would rather look like a bull in a china shop than ask Michael for help.

  He had been to the bank with Louise and Gregory through the years, but had stayed in the car as they did their business. The seconds went by like hours. Michael, with his arms folded, looked a little perturbed at JT. He was about to speak up, but a perky petite girl with a blonde ponytail dressed professionally in a blue suit bounded toward them.

  ‘Welcome to First Bank of Athens Eden, can I please help you? That’s a cool looking cane!’ the girl said with a screechy voice that grated against JT’s every nerve.

  ‘Yes, I think you can help me,’ JT replied, clasping the skull and crossbones and twisting his cane in his hand. ‘I have some money I need to put in an account.’

  ‘Sure, we can help you with that. My name is Jenny, by the way. What kind of account would you like?’ Jenny began to count with her fingers as she explained. ‘We have savings, money market, small yield, large yield, IRA, short-term bonds, long-term bonds, stocks, annuity, business checking, business savings, permanent or short-term solutions.’ She stopped and rolled her eyes to the ceiling for a second as though she knew she was missing something. She quickly cocked her head to one side and glanced back at JT with a large, bright smile.

  JT looked at Jenny with a blank face. He had no idea how to reply. ‘I just need somewh--’

  ‘Gosh, JT, you’re like a rat that was stuck in a cage and then found itself in the woods,’ Michael interrupted. ‘He just needs a simple checking account, ma’am.’ His voice was very gentle towards Jenny and he nudged JT. He pushed his glasses to the bridge of his nose.

  ‘Oh!’ Jenny said her head bobbing up and down in approval. ‘I forgot about that one. We can do that right away; follow me. It should be easy enough.’ Michael and JT followed Jenny to a little desk in the middle of the open carpeted area of the bank. Jenny began asking JT a plethora of questions, to which he did not know the answers. He could hardly stomach the whine that came from Jenny’s voice. It was even more annoying as she skipped over questions and corrected herself with a silly giggle. It was worse than the car sickness he had during the trip.

  Michael decided to take over for JT. He was frustrated at JT’s attitude toward Jenny, who was just trying to do her job. He answered all of the questions Jenny asked, filling in information for JT. He smiled and flirted with the girl as she typed the information into a computer. Michael sat back in his chair with his legs crossed and a serious look on his face. JT shook his head. He let Michael take over without even asking about some of the information he was giving the clerk. He knew it was important only because Louise had asked him to get a bank account. He thought then that maybe Gregory had a point in keeping his money in the attic. Jenny, with her bright smile and bouncing blonde ponytail, paid close attention to what Michael said. She seemed enthralled by the answers he gave her.

  While Michael and Jenny talked and set up the checking account, JT panned around the bank and suddenly felt strange. He had the eerie feeling of being watched. He peered at a thin lady standing behind the main bank counter; she glared at JT with a gnarly stare and looked away quickly. A small, fat man who stood in line wearing a blue and red-striped tie with his white shirttail protruding from his slacks gawked at JT with an odd squint. One older lady with a slight hunchback grabbed the hand of a little girl in a pink skirt and rushed her out the door of the bank when she recognized the two traveling companions.

  Chills ran down JT’s spine. What in the world were they looking at? What had he possibly done? Did he have some hideous growth coming out of his head or something? Was it his cane? The atmosphere of the bank turned unexpectedly dark. Though JT felt a since of dread, the joking and jolly rigging continued between Jenny and Michael.

  ‘That’s it!’ Jenny announced. ‘All I need now is the money to make the deposit and you’ll be done.’

  Michael poked JT, who was still interested in why some of the people in the bank had looked at him in contempt. He snapped out of his daze and handed his duffel bag to Jenny. Michael gave her the address of his sister’s diner to mail JT’s paperwork and checks. He also gave her the phone number to the diner in case she didn’t have plans for the weekend. The two stood up and left the bank.

  The strange looks from passersby continued to bombard JT as they got into the old blue car. One small woman grunted at JT as he plopped in the passenger seat and set his cane in the back seat. As they drove toward Michael’s sister’s diner, JT swore that people in other cars were peering suspiciously toward them. When JT asked him about it, Michael said he hadn’t noticed anything bizarre at all.

  When they arrived at Parker’s Diner, they went in to meet Michael’s sister. The diner was a quaint concrete shop with a tin roof, large glass windows, and light blue and white checkered curtains. Michael’s sister knew right away that they had walked through the front door when a shiny ring from a small silver bell announced their entrance. JT’s nose filled with the aroma of freshly baked cookies and roasted coffee. The inside was warm and inviting. JT felt comforted.

  ‘Hey baby boy!’ Michael’s sister rushed over and hugged him. ‘Oh my gosh!’ she yelled out, ‘It is you! Look at you JT. It’s been so long!’ The lady grabbed JT and squeezed him tight. ‘So handsome. And what a nice, neat haircut. Wish I could say the same for you, Michael. What’s that slick-look thing going on and all this stuff dangling back here?’

  ‘You know he can’t remem-’ Michael started and the stout woman patted his head and brushed a clump of greasy strings of hair off of his neck. Michael blushed. It was apparent he had heard his sister say his hair was a mess a thousand times.

  ‘I know, but it doesn’t mean I gotta forget!’ she interrupted, smacking Michael on the shoulder and straightening out his collar in a single motion.

  Linda Peterson was a medium built lady with long, bushy brown hair and white teeth. Her button nose twitched as she spoke, a
nd her smile was outlined with fine wrinkles. She wore a blue and white striped waitress uniform that ended just below her knees and she walked on powder blue sneakers. Though she owned the small diner, she still worked as hard or harder than anyone else employed there. She not only managed the money, but also spent many shifts waiting on customers. Her eyes sparkled, and she looked genuinely happy to see Michael and JT. She had cared for Michael for some time; ever since he had moved back to Athens Eden, he lived in a small room in the back of the diner.

  She reminded JT of a younger Louise because with every move Michael made, she was there telling him to do something different. If he slouched, she would tell him to straighten up, but he always had whatever he needed directly in front of him. She was never rough when she spoke to Michael, just assertive, and she spoke with a cheerful voice whether she was scolding him or paying him a compliment.

  Michael and JT sat at the counter on silver cylinder bar stools with black leather tops that swirled around. Michael watched the clock, nervously twisting from side to side. JT glanced around the diner, and even though the mood was more jovial in the diner than in the bank, he noticed some people peering up and sneering at him, then quickly looking back to their plates. He couldn’t fathom what he might have done for an entire town to hate him.

  One man paid for his meal and muttered something to Linda that she didn’t take too kindly. She briskly handed him his change and pointed to the door. JT couldn’t hear what Linda said over the sound of clanging forks and plates, but it was obvious she wanted the man to leave. Michael noticed nothing and continued to look at the clock.

  ‘I guess she didn’t get the letter,’ Michael said, hanging his head as Linda placed a piece of apple pie in front of him and JT. She told JT not to worry about what he saw at the cash register. She said the man was an old fuddy-duddy, and he might have seemed rude at that time, but he would be back. Linda sensed that JT felt it was his fault that she might lose a paying customer, but her smile and reassurance put his mind quickly at ease.

  ‘It’s about 5:15. I told her five o’clock,’ Michael announced to no one in particular.

  JT sat and said nothing. The thought of what he could have done to make these people look at him with derision ricocheted relentlessly in his brain.

  Michael began to fidget more as 5:15 became 5:25. He looked back at the front door and twisted a little faster. A bead of sweat started to roll down the front of his forehead. The time was 5:30 p.m.. The sun hung just above the tops of the trees at 5:40, then 5:41, 5:42. Michael became more and more anxious, twisting back and forth faster and faster with every passing minute. ‘I really thought she would come,’ he mumbled to JT, rubbing his hands together nervously and eating a piece of his pie. JT shook his head. Michael cleared his throat of sticky phlegm and slowly turned his bar stool toward JT. ‘At least I got you.’

  JT snickered.

  Just as Michael finished a large bite of pie and pulled the fork from his mouth, a loud, shiny ring sounded from the front of the diner. Michael didn’t look but poked his head straight into the air. He stopped turning on his stool. JT turned around and Linda smiled. A smooth, soft arm slid gracefully into sight over Michael’s right shoulder and paused. Suddenly the arm dropped like a hammer and slammed an unfolded piece of paper into the rest of Michael’s uneaten pie, smashing it in.

  Michael jumped and whirled around, his glasses shot to the end of his nose. He knew that standing behind him, purposefully late, was the delightful Kimberly Abigail Logan.”

 

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