He waited and waited for Megan to return to do whatever she needed to do to her wash so he could do Adam’s work and start a load himself. Finally, past midnight, he heard her creep down. He quickly doused his light and spied from the edge of the door, near the floor where no one ever looked, and followed her quick steps to and from the laundry room. When he was sure she was all the way back up to the second floor he carried his dirty clothes and sheets to the machine.
When his stomach growled he stole upstairs and found a half-empty box of Cheerios. He ate them by the handful as he looked out on the snow storm first from the kitchen window, then the dining room, and finally the living room.
He crunched away until the box was empty, still staring out the front window, alone in the dark. Or so he thought, until he heard a whimper from the couch. He bent low and stared into the slumbering white face of Emily. Sweet Emily. Ugly Emily. Useful Emily.
He picked up the edge of the blanket that was slipping off her feet and rearranged it, tucking the back part into the cushion.
What was wrong with Emily? Why was she lying here?
She moaned in her sleep and gave a little cry.
Chuck wondered if Adam knew what was wrong, but Adam was as quiet as a flake of snow.
Chuck took the empty Cheerios box back into the kitchen and grabbed his winter coat. He planned to use it as a blanket for himself. He sat down in the chair opposite the couch and kept vigil for as long as his eyes would stay open.
Wednesday
Chapter 16
Ben woke up at six a.m. and stared at the clock for a full minute until his brain cleared away the strange dream he was having. Then he turned the radio on to listen to a long list of school closings. It was absolutely official – no school. The weather man announced that six inches had fallen in the city with some neighboring areas receiving as much as eleven inches of the powdery stuff. Ben wondered how many days off school eleven inches would get you. Still, one day off was good enough.
He stretched and cracked and yawned. A pang of remorse followed as he remembered how abruptly he left the girls last night. No, he wasn’t going to feel bad. They didn’t need him there, they could handle that girl stuff better without him. They’d be okay today, happy for a day off.
He switched on the bedside lamp and rolled to one side to study the shelf of pictures. It looked like the maids had put them back in order this time or else they forgot to dust the shelf. The middle picture was the one his eye always rested on the longest – his dad in uniform, young Ben at his side looking up, the dog nuzzling his knee. There was no holiday or activity connected to the photo, it was simply a picture taken in the back yard on a summer morning of an ordinary day. It didn’t have any special memory attached to it like the photo on the far right did – the last picture taken of his dad, the one that showed a tearful family minutes before being split up for what they thought would be six months. Six months sounded like forever then. And it was.
He returned his gaze to the middle picture and concentrated on remembering all the good things about his dad.
***
Megan woke at nearly eight o’clock to a lifelessly quiet house. The silence was so complete that she wondered for a second if she was alone, wondered if she had been wrong to turn off her alarm clock, sure that school would be called off. Then she remembered how late she had stayed up with Cori, watching over Emily’s restless sleeping from where they sat in the dining room. They talked in whispers, seriously debating all sorts of things, finally agreeing to disagree. They lapsed into a comfortable silence for a while and then Megan asked Cori about Ben. They laughed softly and fell into an easy conspiracy that matched any two girlfriends’ secret boy-talk. By midnight they decided that they would leave Emily on the couch and Cori went upstairs first while Megan tip-toed downstairs to take the blue jeans out of the washer and hang them to dry.
Megan hadn’t latched her door. In fact, she had left it wide open so she could hear if Emily called out. She listened hard for any sounds, but heard nothing. She got up and looked out the window. The neighborhood was so thoroughly blanketed with snow that it looked like a calendar picture. It was beginning to get light, but there was no movement anywhere. The streets weren’t plowed, no one was outside shoveling, and it was too early for little kids to start building snowmen. The stillness was creepy, the few faraway traffic sounds muted.
She padded to the bathroom, then to the stairs. As she passed Cori’s room, she saw that she, too, had left her door open, though only a couple of inches. Maybe there was hope for some civility, maybe they could start caring for one another and get along. There was a glow from a lamp, but no sounds of stirring. Megan listened for a rhythm of breathing, but any noise Cori was making must have been muffled by a pillow or blanket. She hesitated a moment longer, vacillating between knocking or moving on. She moved on.
She treaded softly down the steps and reached the open door at the bottom. A little farther and she could see what she expected: a soundly sleeping Emily lying on the cushions of the couch, blanket to her chin. And then, in the chair across from her was what she never expected to see.
***
Cori woke early and lay staring at the ceiling. She thought of her violent episode with Jason, his firing her, and her attic treasures stolen away. She puzzled over her conversation with Megan. It had felt like the times in junior high when she used to have lots of friends, was invited to birthday parties and sleepovers, and talked endlessly about boys with girls who were a lot like Megan. She had giggled with Megan over something stupid, something about Ben. She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt so . . . so normal. Their tête-à-tête had begun with a dispute then morphed into apologies on both sides. They had differences in their opinions, but nothing that would make them enemies, so they agreed to be tolerant of one another.
There had been a silence during which Cori mulled over how to explain the staircase incident with Jason without sounding positively insane. Already she was questioning that it had happened – perhaps she was losing her mind. Drugs did that to you. She didn’t get a chance to say anything about it to Megan because that was when Megan asked about Ben. Their hushed laughter was its own drug; Cori drank it in. She started to feel some sympathy for Emily as they periodically checked on her. By the time they decided to go to bed Cori was free from her earlier anger – hadn’t even thought about the attic trespasser.
But now she did. She sprang up in bed and fumbled for the lamp switch. She plugged in the Christmas lights and scrambled up the ladder.
The attic smelled mustier than usual, but not as cold, the quilt of snow on the roof was insulating the old house. She plucked up the end of the Christmas tree lights and dragged the line after her as she followed the planks along the path, the rough wood cool on her bare feet. She reached the crib and rocker and tree stand. She wadded up the end of the string of lights and used the extra illumination to inspect the items. It occurred to her that Megan might be interested in two of these items – for Simon.
But something was tugging at her memory. She left the lights on the chair and walked back to look at the things from her original perspective.
It was different. There had been a fourth item before. What was it? Something squarish. Another box? She wasn’t sure, but she could feel her stomach starting to twist in anger. The thought that someone – it must have been Chuck – had come into her room and up into the attic totally unnerved her.
She stared at the scene until the lights blurred and her head began to pound. She pressed her hands to her eyes and bent her head. When she released her hands she felt a little dizzy and there were more spots of lights from the pressure on her eyes. Lightheaded. She kept her head down.
And saw a pinprick of light coming up through the ceiling of her room. So what? She had seen several of those on her first foray up here, but . . .
She knelt on the board and put her face to the hole. The crumpled sheets on her bed stared back at her. She could clearly see the
indentation her head had made on her pillow. This was a spy hole!
Her pajamas suddenly felt thinner, the air colder. The hairs on her arms stood stiff beneath her sleeves.
No, this couldn’t be what she thought. This was just . . . just normal electrician stuff. The brass connector plate was only missing a screw, that was all.
She stood back up and looked across the attic floor, imagining where the other bedrooms’ lights would be. She saw no other holes. Of course, if their lights weren’t on . . .
And then there was a new yellow stab of light where the bathroom would be. The boards didn’t pass that way and Cori wasn’t about to spy on Megan anyway, but she listened to be sure. And then there was a flush.
She froze, remembering that her bedroom door was slightly ajar. She moved toward her closet and put her head near the opening. Held her breath. Listened.
Finally she heard the fourth step creak on the staircase; Megan was going downstairs.
Cori looked back at the crib and wondered again what was missing. She decided to inspect the area once more.
***
Megan stared at Chuck sleeping in the chair, covered by a coat, and looking like he was as uncomfortable as if he were sleeping on a bed of nails. The bones of his neck seemed to have surrendered; his head had flopped back in a super-relaxed way. Like he was dead. But not at peace.
Emily, however, did look peaceful. She appeared warm and serene and tranquil.
Megan backed away and went into the kitchen. She looked out the window for Ben’s car but there were no tracks anywhere. He hadn’t come back.
She heard a thump downstairs.
But if Ben wasn’t here and Chuck was in the living room and there wasn’t any Adam, then who . . .?
She thought of Cori, the idea forming that she had risen earlier, left her door ajar and gone downstairs to do laundry.
She lifted her hand from the sink counter where she had been gripping the edge. She ran her fingers through the snarls in her hair, wiped some crust from her eyes. She was glad Ben wasn’t here to see her. He must have stayed at his parents’ house after hockey. That was probably smart, but it was going to be a long time before he showed up here by the looks of the snow. She leaned forward to catch a glimpse of a neighbor’s car thrusting itself through low walls of snow. Ben didn’t have four-wheel-drive so he’d have to wait until–
She heard a grumble overhead. She squeezed the edge of the counter again as she tried to interpret the meaning of the sudden tumble of angry footfalls down the stairs.
“You bastard!”
Cori was yelling.
“You asshole!”
She swung through the kitchen and would have pushed Megan aside if she had moved into her path.
“I’m gonna kill you!”
“Stop. What’s wrong?” Megan reached out, but Cori shoved past and bolted down the basement steps.
Megan heard a groan from the living room and then a snort from Chuck. Let him babysit Em, she thought. She hurried after Cori.
***
Chuck came awake with a start. His neck cracked as he brought it forward and stared at Emily.
“Huh? Did you say something?” he asked as Emily moved onto her elbow, scanning sleepy eyes around the dreary room.
She shook her head with a subdued coolness.
“Sounded like a herd of elephants passed through here.” He closed his eyes and listened for his brother.
Wake up, you idiot. She found out. She’s in our room.
Huh?
Get down there before she finds the stuff in the closet.
No, I put them in the bag. They’re on the top bunk.
Get down there!
Chuck moved in his smooth resistless way as Adam made him turn to bow to Emily before he left the room.
Where are your manners, Chuck?
Adam, I think Cori’s in my room. At last. Wait, Megan’s here, too.
Chuck stood at the door and watched Megan’s back. She was blocking his view of his closet where he hoped that Cori was touching all of his things.
He heard her voice. She sounded livid, like she was gnashing her teeth around words that no child should hear.
He pulled back out of sight and listened.
***
“Look!” Cori screamed at Megan, holding out a tea light. “I found this in the crib.”
“What crib? What are you talking about?” Megan kept her tone controlled.
“The attic! He’s been in the attic!” Cori lifted her arm upwards and pointed high. “Come here . . . Look . . . See?” Now she pointed down.
Megan stood next to her in the tiny space and looked down at the hole in the wall. She got on her hands and knees when Cori did and together they explored the cavity.
“It’s large enough for that ape to crawl up there and spy on us!” Cori shook with fury, her face a sharper red against the black hair that fell forward. “I was in the attic, you can get to it from my closet, and I found this, like, laundry chute or something, and I threw this old candle down to see where it went. And it came out here in Chuck’s room!”
Megan’s hands were covering her mouth, her eyes fixed on Cori.
“He is so dead.” Cori’s eyes flamed.
Megan grabbed her wrist and stopped her from rising. “Cori, he’s sick.”
“You bet he’s sick. And I’m gonna cure him.”
“No, I mean, he’s like schizophrenic or something. He takes medication.” She released her grip and stood up.
“What?” Cori stood, too. “How do you know this?”
“Ben told me. Chuck’s twin brother, Adam, died when they were kids.”
***
Hey, did you hear that, Adam? Ha, that’s funny. She thinks you’re dead. That’s a good one. That girl’s all right – she’s going to smooth things over with Cori.
I am dead, Chuck. I’m dead because of you, remember?
Chuck felt a caressing hand on his shoulder. Emily, a blanket held over her shoulders with one hand, was patting him with all the motherly gentleness he had forgotten. He wanted to thank her, to look her way, to move . . . but for all the screaming effort he could rally, his muscles refused. He stood paralyzed. There was something that Adam just told him, something important, that braided itself around the girls’ words, hiding, hiding.
He sank beneath Emily’s touch, the paralysis freeing him in a slow motion fall. He slumped against the wall and let his head fall into his hands. Words and faces swirled beneath his eyelids, his throat closed, his stomach churned. He dropped his hands to the cold concrete and crawled toward the bathroom. Emily’s voice echoed nonsense. Cori’s rant grew sharp then blunted. He felt claws upon his back, knew vaguely that the other girls were holding Cori back.
He kept crawling, sucking in a lungful of air, yet drowning. White stars and black spots glistened and winked before his eyes. He could smell it now. It was death – that funeral home stink of carnations and roses and tears.
He remembered. And crawled on. If he didn’t reach the toilet he was going to vomit on the floor.
The screams and angry curses receded. He could no longer hear Cori or Megan, but Emily’s low tones hinted at something safe.
Rumors. They were only rumors. Right, Adam? Gossip and lies and blather and nonsense.
His knees scraped against a metal threshold. Two more feet and he could rid himself of this bile.
Is that you, Adam? When did you put this blanket on me?
Chapter 17
Ben’s subdivision hadn’t been plowed out yet. He ate breakfast by himself then hid out in the living room while his step-father, Ed, fumbled around the kitchen cupboards. Twenty minutes later Ed went out to the garage and backed his SUV down the driveway, leaving deep ruts. Ben went to the window and watched him slip and slide and fish-tail down the street. If the SUV was having a hard time, Ben didn’t stand a chance in his little car. He’d have to wait for the professionals. He couldn’t hope to get to Elm Street before mid-morning.
He needed something constructive to do to pass the time. He had an idea as soon as he saw the neighbor kids emerging in snowsuits and boots, throwing snowballs at each other, and laughing loudly enough to be heard through the double pane windows.
***
Mrs. Beridon looked out at the trouble and work that waited for her. Every inch of her long driveway needed shoveling. Her husband was out of town, her son was at college, and her daughter was too sick to lift a finger, let alone a shovel full of heavy, wet snow. She thought of the nice young man who had brushed off her car last night and wished he would magically appear and offer to help her. She needed to be to work in an hour and it would take almost that long to do the shoveling.
She set her coffee down and sighed. The phone rang.
“Yes . . . all right, I didn’t expect a decision yet.” She tapped her nails on the side of the coffee cup, tried to envision her calendar, nodded in agreement. “Oh, really? In the mail? Well, she moved, so maybe she didn’t get it. . . Okay, I’ll let her know. . . Tomorrow at nine a.m. I’ll make sure she’s there. Thank you.”
She hung up and went in search of her planner, checked the date, marked the appointment, and thumbed through the pages looking for Megan Blakeney’s number. She didn’t have it. The only way to contact her would be to drive to the new place where she was staying. Maybe on her lunch hour. Thank goodness she knew where Megan lived now. She didn’t have a good feeling about such a sudden decision by the judge, but maybe this would work in Megan’s favor. Maybe not.
***
Ben rummaged around the storage room in the lower level of the house looking for any old winter things he could use, hoping his mom hadn’t thrown the stuff out or given it to some charitable organization. He found a pair of boots of his mom’s that were hardly worn and thought that Emily might like them. Then he hit the jackpot when he discovered a dented cardboard box with the words ‘winter stuff’ written in black marker on the side. He pulled open the tattered flaps and dug through items that were at least ten years old. At the very bottom he found three sets of winter boots. He laughed to himself as he set aside the small pair that was decorated with cartoon heroes – his favorites from long ago. The man’s boots, his dad’s, were still a few sizes too big for him, but he could take this second pair of his mom’s boots to Megan.
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