They felt their way up the narrow steps to the first floor and climbed out of the ruin. Ben was relieved to be in the fresh air of the living world. The sun was stretching for the horizon, the light beginning to ripen.
Ben called for Hudson, and the beagle bounded out of the grass. He was covered in flaxen briars and dandelion seeds that he shook off in a fit of movement, sending his broad ears slapping against his head. He trotted to Ben, brushing himself against Ben’s jeans. Ben gave him a vigorous rub and noticed how lean and muscular the beagle had become.
“Anything to see in particular?” Ted asked him.
“There’s an old barn, but it’s not much more than a pile of kindling. I could show you the land demarcations. The parcel’s about eighty acres, according to the lawyer.”
They made their way east through the tall grass. The cloying sense of discomfort Ben had gotten from the sad little house faded as they walked through the fields. The faint hum of insects and the whisper of wind through the brush were interrupted only by the shuffle of their footsteps. The grass had grown so long that it was beginning to seed. Ben ran his hands over the tops of the stalks as he walked, letting their silken pods brush against his palms. Hudson trotted a groove through the grass a few yards away, sending a flurry of insects aloft in his wake.
The late-afternoon light sat heavily atop the land, and Ben knew that if he’d been in the city the stratus clouds on the horizon would soon begin thickening to a mottled pink. But the air here was thin and clean. Here there was no single moment at day’s end when a horizon of steel and glass blazed into a dreamscape of color. Only the long purple tendrils of loosestrife and orange thatches of butterfly weeds broke the monotony of the rolling grass.
“Neighbors, huh?” Ted asked after a few minutes, pointing ahead. They’d wandered closer to the road, and there was a small stone house on the other side of a post-and-wire fence, a few hundred yards away. It wasn’t as run down as their grandmother’s, but it was on its way. The low rise behind the house was specked with dozens of cows, the grass there cropped close by their grazing. Two little girls jumped rope not far from the house.
Ben waved at the girls. They stopped what they were doing, stared at him for a moment, and darted inside.
“Friendly kids,” Ted said. He looked along the length of the property divider. “This fence is in good shape.”
“It wasn’t here last time,” Ben told him.
“You know what they say about fences and neighbors.”
“The guy called the cops on us the first time we came here,” Ben told him. “Back before we bought the Crofts.”
“You’re kidding.”
“He thought we were trespassing—reasonable enough, really.”
“Did the cops give you a hard time? Can’t imagine they love out-of-towners up here—unless they’re pulling them over, of course.”
“The deputy’s a prick, but the chief’s okay. He was pretty nice once he figured out who we were. He can’t be much older than forty, but he knew exactly who the Lowells were.”
“Small town, long memory.”
“He liked that I was up here, checking out my roots.” Ben pointed up at the mountains. “He’s actually the one who told us that the Crofts was for sale.”
From this distance, the Crofts was all granite walls, austere towers, and imperial windows. There were no rotten floorboards, loose windows, or cracked foundation. From here the house still appeared as its builders had intended.
Ted shook his head, staring at the house between the mountains. “Just look at that place.”
Ben had had the same reaction when he first saw the Crofts, not far from where they now stood. From this distance, it looked awesome and terrifying, the kind of place where a princess is locked away in the remotest of rooms.
The two girls walked out of the little stone house. They stood side by side just outside the front door, staring at Ben and Ted. Ben waved to them again, but the girls didn’t move.
The girls wore red sundresses with yellow flowers. From a distance the design looked familiar to Ben, and it was a few moments before he remembered the pattern from the boxes of children’s clothes that he’d left with Jake Bishop.
“Company,” Ted said. He laughed as he clapped Ben on the shoulder.
Ben turned to see a police cruiser pulling up onto the shoulder of the road.
“I guess they didn’t recognize me,” Ben said.
“Keep telling yourself that.”
A tall man wearing a wide-brimmed hat got out of the cruiser’s driver’s seat.
“At least it’s the chief,” Ben said. He would have been in for an unpleasant time with Deputy Simms if he’d been by himself, but with Ted’s mouth, there would have been an even chance of gun-play.
The chief took his time making his way to them over the windtossed fields.
Ben raised a hand, and the chief reciprocated.
“Howya, Mr. Tierney. I thought it might be you.”
“This is my brother, Ted.”
“The Lord’s given us a right fine day,” the chief said. “Bill Stanton,” he said, shaking Ted’s hand. He had a face made from wood and a smile that turned on a hinge.
“Sure beats the rain,” Ben said.
“Hank Seward gave a call. Said there were some characters picking around the old Lowell place.”
“Guilty as charged,” Ted said.
“Folks aren’t used to seeing people poking around that they don’t know,” the chief said.
“I thought he’d remember from last time.”
“Think it was his missus last time,” the chief said. He plucked the seedpod off a stalk of grass and ran it between his fingers contemplatively. “Here he comes now,” the chief said.
A stout man in cuffed jeans and a sleeveless T-shirt had left the little stone house and was making his way toward them.
“Howya, Bill,” the man said when he reached them. He had a ruddy complexion, the kind that was earned by outdoor work or too much whiskey, and small dark eyes that darted in their sockets.
“Ben and Ted Tierney here, Hank. They’re the Lowells’ kin.”
Hank nodded in their direction. “Didn’t know who they were. Gave my girls a scare,” he said.
“I apologize for that, Mr. Seward. Just showing my brother around.”
“New fence, Hank?” The chief tapped the top of one of the posts that separated Seward from the rest of them. “Hasn’t been a fence dividing these fields since we were kids, has there?”
“Wasn’t no point in building a new one while the Lowells were gone,” Seward said. “But now they’re back.” He jutted his head in the direction of Ben and Ted. “Don’t want my cows wandering someplace they’re not wanted.”
“Suppose not,” the chief said. He flicked the seedpod into the brush. “Remember when we played ball here when we were boys? The stone in front of that old sealed well was home and any hit over the fence was a homer?” The chief smiled and rocked on the balls of his feet as if he were priming for a pitch.
“Sure I do,” Seward said. He matched the chief’s smile and raised him some.
“Hit a couple homers ourselves in our day.”
“Frank Carson hit one or two out a game, I recall. Best batter in the county in his day. Coulda played for the Sox, I still say.”
“All the Carsons were a force to be reckoned with on the diamond,” the chief said. “Saw Molly Carson at Harp’s week past last with little Danny in tow, wearing a ball cap. And him the spitting image of Frank. Takes me back, you know?”
“Sure do,” Seward said.
“Thing is, Hank,” the chief said, moving closer to the fence, “I can see the cap of that old well from here, and it’s a good five hundred feet to the fence.”
“You think so?”
“If not more.” The chief nodded. “Fenway Park is three hundred two feet from the plate to the right foul post. You know that. Now, you think we were hitting near twice that far when we were teens?”
“You want to say something, you can say it straight out, Bill,” Seward said. The stocky man stretched his back to reach the full height available to him.
“No reason to get upset, Hank,” the chief said, shaking his head. “I know the Lowells’ land was a good feed for your cows—”
“And my daddy’s and granddaddy’s cows.”
“—and with no claims on it, there was no harm in you using it, but it’s not yours to use now.”
“My cows can’t live all year just off just my acreage,” he said shrilly. “And in my book the Lowells have no rights to that land no more, not after they—”
The chief clamped a white-knuckled hand on the man’s shoulder, which brought him to a stop.
“It’s not your place to tell people around here what rights they do or do not have. Next time I come out here, I want to see this fence at the legal boundary or nowhere at all. You understand?”
Seward swallowed and nodded. His face had lost its flush.
“Now, you give my best to Bessy and the girls, you hear?” The chief leaned back, and the smile returned to his face. “My Mary was just saying that she should fix our June up with Martha and Meg. Do you think they’d go for that? Play tea party or jump rope some afternoon?”
“Yes, Chief, I’m sure they’d like that very much,” Seward said.
“Well, I’ll make sure she gives her a call, then. And tending this land is the Lord’s labor, but you don’t work yourself to nothing now, you hear, Hank?” The chief started to walk back to his cruiser.
“You know me, Bill,” Seward said.
“You take care, too, boys,” the chief said, waving to Ben and Ted.
“Thanks, Chief,” Ben said, then he turned to Hank Seward. “You know, I don’t mind at all if you use this land for your cows. We’re not using it for anything. You’re welcome to it for as long as we own it,” he said.
Seward’s darting eyes twitched and grew hard. He spoke soft and rough, so that the chief wouldn’t hear.
“Don’t need charity from the likes of you,” he said quickly, a faint mist of spit spraying from between his teeth. Then he turned on his heel and stalked back to his little house, where his daughters still watched silently from the stoop.
15
Caroline had made vanilla-bean French toast with strawberry compote for breakfast. This was a scaled-down version of an earlier meal in which each wedge of toast had been filled with sweetened cream cheese.
“Another?” Ben asked Ted, offering him a slice at the end of a fork.
Ted’s eyes narrowed and he leaned toward Ben. “Don’t need charity from the likes of you,” Ted snarled. Then he fell back in his chair, laughing. Ted had found yesterday’s exchange with Hank Seward to be the height of hilarity.
“More for me, then,” Ben said, shucking the slice onto his plate.
“I think I’m going to hit Walmart,” Caroline said. She helped herself to another spoonful of the compote. Ben was glad that her energy and appetite had returned. “I figure I’ll say hello to the priest when he gets here, then I’ll take off.”
“I can give you a ride, if you want,” Ted said. “Driving around in the McLaren is pretty fun. She really opens up on the interstate.”
“I think I need something with a little more trunk,” she said.
“I thought we just needed some diapers and milk,” Ben said.
“I may as well stock up since I’m trekking over there,” Caroline said. “I’m also going to pick up some paint samples from Home Depot. And there’s an info session there on installing window treatments. They’ve got a garden center, too, and I want to see what kind of an herb selection they have. Also, I saw some recipes in Saveur that I thought I’d make for tonight. Pork loin stuffed with sausage, scalloped sweet potatoes, and braised Brussels sprouts. Might have a nice, light beef consommé to start. And one of the baking blogs I follow has a recipe for a great-sounding lavender crème brûlée. So I need to pick up quite a bit.”
“That sounds”—Ted glanced at Ben—“involved.”
“It’s my pleasure,” Caroline said. She cleared her dishes and began rifling through the cabinets and making additions to her shopping list. “Entrées are important, but it’s the sides that really tie a meal together.” She headed for the pantry. “When’s the priest due?”
“Soon,” Ben said, checking the clock on the microwave. “You should get dressed,” he told Charlie.
“I am dressed,” Charlie said, rubbing his face with the back of his hand.
“I meant in something that you didn’t sleep in. And how did your feet get so dirty?” he asked. The boy’s feet dangled several inches above the floor, and their soles looked filthy.
“I don’t know,” Charlie said.
“I’m going with you to wash up. Right now. Let’s go.”
Charlie swung himself off his chair and started toward the stairs, dragging his black-soled feet.
“He looks like he escaped from a Dickens novel. Cee, when did he last take a bath? Do you remember?”
“Two nights ago?”
Ben also couldn’t remember exactly when he’d last given Charlie a bath. Between diving into the new book and dealing with Ted, he’d been distracted.
He headed up the stairs and ran a bath in Charlie’s bathroom.
“Charlie?” he called as he checked the water’s temperature. “Char—” He turned around and was startled by his naked son standing not six inches from him. “Jesus,” he said, “I didn’t know you were there.”
“Is it warm?”
“Feel it,” Ben said.
Charlie carefully probed the water. The boy nodded and climbed into the tub.
“Do you want the battleship?” Ben asked. Charlie had a toy warship that they sometimes played with in the tub. The crew had had to deal with an astonishing assortment of problems. Torpedoes, sharks, icebergs, even bears. The captain was resourceful, and his men were brave, but the ship still sank several times an outing. It’d been a while since they’d played with it.
Charlie shrugged.
Ben squeezed shampoo into his hand and kneaded it into his son’s hair. His hair was getting thicker every day, and it was in need of a cut.
“So Father Caleb’s really nice,” Ben told him as he worked up a lather. “And you’ll like the school, too. It’s on a mountain, just like we are, and they have lots of fields to play on.”
“Is it in the forest?”
“Part of it is.”
“Is there a lake?”
“Not that I saw, but there’s a fountain. Close your eyes now.” Ben dunked a cup into the bathwater and poured it over Charlie’s head. “Scrub your feet with this.” Ben handed him the soap. They used to play games with the bar of soap. Ben would pretend to fumble it and see how far he could send it flying when it slipped through his hands, but there was none of that anymore. “He’s just coming up to meet you. It’s not a test or anything.” The water was starting to look dirty now, a ring forming at the upper reach of the waterline.
“What kinds of animals are in the forest?” Charlie asked him. This was familiar territory, something Charlie used to like to hear about when he was in bed, before the lights went out.
“Lots of animals. Too many to name. There are moles and voles and groundhogs under the fields, rabbits in the grass, and opossums in the trees. There are snakes and frogs and salamanders and newts around the lake; you can find them in the shallows between the stalks of cattails. There are deer in the woods, and—”
“How big are the bears?” Charlie asked.
“We have black bears up here. Not as big as the grizzlies they have out west, but they can weigh a hundred pounds more than me.” Ben spread out his hand and held it in front of Charlie. “They have long hooked claws as sharp as razors.”
“What animals walk around like we do?” Charlie asked him.
“Like we do?” Ben pulled a towel off the rack. “A bear can stand on two legs, but I don’t think they go arou
nd walking like that.”
“They’re taller than you and have black fur?”
Ben pulled Charlie out of the water and wrapped the towel around him.
“There’s nothing like that out there,” he told him. Ben rubbed Charlie’s head with the towel, sending droplets of water flying. The boy’s eyes glanced past Ben’s head. Ben followed his gaze but saw nothing.
“I was just wondering.”
“Father Caleb’s here.” Caroline’s head popped around the bathroom door. “Do you want me to take over?”
Because Caroline had worked long hours and Ben had worked from home, he’d always been the parent to make sure Charlie got to school on time and did his homework. He’d been the one who met with teachers on back-to-school night and the one the PTA called when they were looking for volunteers. He’d been the one who was called when something went wrong. There was no reason for this arrangement to continue now that they’d moved up here, but it had.
“Come down when you’re ready, okay, buddy?” Ben tousled Charlie’s damp hair on the way out of the room.
When he got to the kitchen, Ben found the old priest nodding at whatever Ted was saying to him.
“Don’t believe anything he says, Father,” Ben told him.
“I was telling him that I think you’re nuts for living in this enormous place,” Ted said.
“Oh, well, that may be true.” Ben shook the priest’s hand.
“I have to say that this is beautiful,” Father Caleb said, gesturing to the kitchen. “So modern and lovely. I’m impressed and surprised.”
“Well, prepare yourself to be less surprised by the rest of house. May I show you around?”
“I don’t want to pressure you into a tour; I know you haven’t been here that long.”
“Charlie’s not quite ready; it’ll probably just be a couple minutes.” Ben stepped into the hallway. He turned around on his way through the door. “Hey, Ted, feel free to load and run the dishwasher.”
Ted, his mouth full again with French toast, gave Ben a salute.
“Younger brother?” Father Caleb asked when they stepped into the first room.
House of Echoes: A Novel Page 10
