House of Echoes: A Novel

by Brendan Duffy

  “Where’s the florist?”

  “In North Hampstead.” Caroline stood up haltingly from the table.

  “That’s sort of in the opposite direction from the school.”

  “Hopefully they’re on their way, then.” Caroline looked and sounded disoriented, and Ben wondered if she, too, was coming down with something. A household brought low by the flu: a fitting way to cap off the year.

  “The forks go on the left side,” he said. He left her frowning at the silverware.

  Something sweet was baking in the kitchen, and the smell reminded Ben that he was hungry. He’d had an early breakfast and it looked as if he was going to have a late lunch. On his way out the door, he picked up an apple along with the florist’s card.

  Outside, the wind had started up again, and Ben remembered the storm. He tightened a scarf around his neck and wondered what the Drop would look like under the blankness of the snow. Leaving the Crofts without Hudson still felt like venturing into the world without a limb. Ben tried not to think about it.

  The Escape’s steering wheel was like ice. He held the florist’s card with one hand, activated the car’s voice dialing, and began reading the number aloud. Halfway through, a flash of movement drew his eyes to the windshield.

  He swore and slammed on the brakes. He heard the spray of gravel rattle across the road’s surface.

  Mrs. White stood by the path, staring at him.

  She was on the side of the road this time, so he wouldn’t have hit her, but she’d still scared the hell out of him.

  “Mrs. White!” he called as he jumped from the running car. “Are you all right?”

  The old woman shook her head. Her lips moved, but, like last time, Ben couldn’t hear her. Her hands fluttered at her sides. She wore a man’s plaid hunting jacket, and beneath it she looked as frail as a skeleton.

  “How about you get in the car and get warmed up?” He stepped a little closer to her. “Come on, now.” He had the idea that she might bolt if he moved too quickly. She continued to mouth something. Though her mind was lost, her milky-blue eyes still held a startling lucidity.

  When he got close enough, Ben dipped his head to bring his ear closer to her trembling mouth. It was the same word again and again. After listening for a few moments, Ben understood.

  “Swann? Do you want to go to the Swanns’ old house?” he asked. Mrs. White shook her head slowly.

  She reached for him, and her mouth stopped moving. Her well-used face still reminded Ben of his grandmother’s, but the resemblance was diminished in the light.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked. He took the apple out of his jacket pocket. He held it out to her and her fingers grazed its green skin. Then her eyes widened and she whipped her hair around as she ran back into the trees.

  Ben called after her, but she didn’t stop. She darted through the forest, gliding through its pillars with barely a rustle. He cursed and hurried back to the car to turn off the engine and put it into park. By the time he’d turned back to the woods, she was hidden from sight. Ben picked his way after her, first jogging and then running as best he could around the trees. The forest here was dense, thick enough to crowd out the sunlight no matter the hour. Sometimes Ben thought he caught the flash of the woman’s coat through the shadowy trees, but then it would disappear just as quickly.

  Eventually he stopped. He’d lost his bearings in the dark forest, and Mrs. White could be anywhere. The wind didn’t penetrate this deep into the wood, and as Ben noticed the stillness, he got the disconcerting sense of being watched. He spun around, but all he saw were the expanding rings of trees and the shadows that bound them. Clouds of tiny crystals exploded from his mouth with every breath. Ben looked up at the gray sky through the barren branches; he didn’t know what to do but turn around.

  —

  “Hi, buddy,” Ben said when he saw Charlie.

  The nurse’s office had a partitioned section with three small beds. Charlie was lying on the farthest one, staring out the window.

  “Hi,” Charlie said. “Your face is red.”

  Ben had called the chief on his way out of the forest. By the time he got back to the gravel path, the chief and a pickup of men from the village had already pulled up near the Escape. Ben pointed them in the right direction. He would have liked to continue the search for Mrs. White, but Charlie was sick and waiting for him.

  “It’s cold outside,” Ben said. “Are you okay?” The rings around the boy’s eyes stood out against the pallor of his skin.

  “I feel okay,” Charlie said. “I don’t know what happened.”

  “You’re all right. I’m going to take you home.” Ben held his palm against his son’s forehead.

  “Mr. Tierney?” The nurse spoke from a separation in the partition. “Could I borrow you for a moment?”

  “Be right back, okay?” Ben said. He put his hand on Charlie’s chest and felt the rapid thrum of his heart. The nurse waved him into the hallway.

  “Charlie was in his session with Mrs. Fraser when he passed out,” the nurse said.

  “Mrs. Fraser?”

  “The school counselor. She’s with Father Cal right now. They’re waiting for you.”

  They found Cal at his desk. A heavyset woman in a tight white blouse sat in one of his chairs. When she saw Ben, Mrs. Fraser introduced herself.

  “Well, I spoke with Charlie, Mr. Tierney, and I think he’s a very sweet and smart—”

  “Thanks,” Ben said. “But tell me what happened.”

  “He got a nosebleed and then fainted,” Mrs. Fraser said. “He didn’t hit his head or anything.”

  “Did he eat breakfast this morning?” the nurse asked. “Low blood sugar could explain it.”

  “Of course. I mean, I think so. Is there anything else?” He just wanted to take Charlie home.

  “He was acting a little oddly before he passed out,” the counselor said. “Said some strange things.” She looked at her notebook. “He said, ‘The winter. It’s hard. It’s cold and dark. But I wouldn’t want to be alone. Not ever. I know that now.’ ” She looked at Ben. “I thought he sounded frightened.”

  Cal asked a question, but Ben only half-listened. It’s cold and dark. But I wouldn’t want to be alone. Not ever. Why did Charlie think he’d ever be alone? And what about the cold or dark could have frightened him? That didn’t sound like him at all.

  The counselor left, and the nurse went to check on Charlie. Ben had intended to follow her, but something kept him rooted where he stood.

  “Did what he said mean anything to you?” Cal asked.

  “I don’t know,” Ben said. It was the truth. Still, there was something in what Charlie had said. Something that brushed against the edge of Ben’s mind, but something he couldn’t quite get a good look at. “I didn’t even ask how the rest of their talk went.”

  “I don’t think they got a chance to speak about the drawing. Mrs. Fraser said he passed out only a few minutes into the session.”

  “Just as well, I guess,” Ben said.

  “One thing at a time,” Cal said.

  “Would that I were so lucky.” Ben rubbed his eyes. He wanted to stretch out on the floor and fall asleep, but he forced himself into motion. “I’m going to take him home. See you for dinner?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “And we might not want to get into any details about what Charlie said,” Ben said. “No reason to get Caroline worried.”

  “Whatever you say, Ben,” the priest said. “I’ll see you tonight.”

  Ben nodded to Cal and returned to the nurse’s office.

  “How are you feeling, kid?” he asked Charlie.

  “Okay,” Charlie said. “Better.” Ben thought he looked the same.

  “Let’s head home. You let me know if you feel like you might pass out or anything like that, okay?”

  “I need my jacket,” Charlie said. “It’s in my cubby.”

  “Okay, I’ll get it. Put on your shoes,” Ben said.

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nbsp; The nurse gave him directions to an enclosed walkway that connected to a neighboring building. Flurries had begun to collect against the glass.

  The walkway opened into a corridor that was still and quiet. All the rooms along it had their doors closed. Ben could imagine the teachers at their boards and their students staring out the windows, watching the first snow of the season.

  He found Charlie’s jacket in one of the wooden nooks along the wall near his homeroom. Peering into the other cubbies, Ben saw shin guards, comics, and other artifacts of boyhood, but there was nothing like that in Charlie’s. A few books, a sweater. He pulled out one of the books, a worn oversize hardcover. When he read the frayed spine, Ben was surprised to see that it was The Book of Secrets, the book he’d bought for Charlie back in the summer. Its pages were loose and stained, as if they’d been read every day for a hundred years.

  “What did you do to this book?” Ben murmured to himself.

  Ben smiled as he paged through it. He wished he’d had a book like this when he was little—one of the reasons he’d bought it for Charlie in the first place. It had illustrations, maps, and instructions about all the things that lit a boy’s heart. If they’d had a copy, he and Ted could have found themselves some real trouble.

  He stopped on a page that had a diagram of how to climb a wall and safely walk on a roof. “How to Make the Night Your Own” was the title of the following section. It gave tips on amplifying night vision, techniques on how to move quickly and quietly in the dark, and demonstrated how to navigate by the stars. “How to Build a Fire Anywhere” was another chapter. It illustrated how to kindle and grow a flame in any conditions you might find, from the rain forests to the Arctic.

  But something began to gnaw at Ben when he reached the topic called “The Buffalo Jump,” which described how Native Americans had herded buffalo over the edge of cliffs in order to kill them. Ben thought of the broken rib cages that arced from the bottom of the pit he’d found in the north woods.

  The next section had detailed diagrams on how to skin a small animal and properly prepare its meat. Many of the book’s pages were stained through much use, but one chapter, on fishing, was streaked with brown residue. There was a thumbprint twice the size of Ben’s on one corner of the page.

  He shut the book, suddenly out of breath. He pulled Charlie’s jacket from its hook, and a small skull fixed Ben with its sharp-toothed grin.

  Ben put the battered book back into the cubby. He stared at it a moment longer before returning to the walkway. On his way, he tried to think about what he’d need to do when he got home. He tried to think of the batches of cocktails he’d store in the freezer and how he would prepare the smoked-trout appetizers. He tried not to think of the deer’s head that had been displayed on their steps. He tried not to think about the carcasses he’d found in the north woods. He tried not to think about the fire that had burned down their shed or the skulls at the bottom of the pit, which looked just like the one Charlie had in his cubby.

  He tried hardest not to think of the man in the smoke from Charlie’s drawing and how his hands were twice the size of Ben’s own.

  37

  When Ben and Charlie returned to the Crofts, Caroline was stuffing the game hens. Her apron was smeared with the juice from wild mushrooms, and her hair smelled like apricots. She hugged Charlie and made him grilled cheese sprinkled with the extra mushrooms. She even let him have one of the macaroons they’d picked up in Exton. She looked much better than she had when Ben had left her, but he could take little pleasure in it now.

  “You don’t look so good, either,” Caroline told Ben. She was covering a tray of the stuffed birds with plastic wrap.

  “No?” He felt a bit light-headed. Charlie had been his usual quiet self on the ride back, and Ben hadn’t felt like talking.

  “You’re not catching what he has?” she asked.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Okay, because I need you tonight. Did Father Cal seem excited about dinner?”

  “I guess.”

  “Good. The flowers came, and I’m on schedule as far as the food goes. The beets should be done soon. I want to serve those at room temperature. I think the cake turned out well, too. I have it in the cellar, where it’s cool.”

  “Great.”

  “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “Are you just going to keep asking me?”

  “Were you going to make some cocktails?”

  “Yes, I can do that.” Ben tried to focus. “Manhattans? Good in cold weather.”

  “What if you serve them and they don’t know how strong they are? Maybe some specialty drink that’s not too strong. Something they might get a kick out of. The bar’s full, right? We have Apple Pucker and liqueurs like that?”

  “Sure, I can make appletinis. But if I knew the night’s theme was 1998, I would have also bought some Red Bull.”

  “Fine, make your Manhattans. Just remember we’ll have a priest and a lawman in attendance. We should probably salt the gravel drive, too. And could you give Bub a bath? I figure we’ll put him to bed a little early, but people will want to say hello to him, and I want him to be as fresh as possible.”

  “Sure.”

  “Same with Charlie, don’t you think?” Caroline asked.

  “You want me to give him a bath, too?”

  “I mean we should parade him around a bit, then send him up to his room. I hate the way the ladies dote on him. And he’s sick, anyway. If he needs us he can call, but he can probably take care of himself up there until it’s bedtime, right?”

  Ben turned to where Charlie sat at the table, methodically chewing his lunch.

  “Yes, I’m certain he can take care of himself.”

  —

  Ben held Bub’s hand as the baby hoisted his leg from one step to the next. It was slow going; Bub’s knees only came up to the top of the step in front of him. It looked exhausting to Ben, but he liked the way the baby’s grip on his hand tightened each time he undertook a new step.

  “You’re getting to be a strong little boy, aren’t you?” Ben asked him. Bub looked at him and turned his grin all the way up.

  Bub loved his baths, and Ben spent more time than he needed to playing with the floating dinosaurs that Bub liked to dip in and out of the water. Ben lurched the brontosaurus around the tub so that its neck cut through the water as if it were the Loch Ness Monster.

  It occurred to Ben that he’d never gone swimming with Bub. When Charlie was a baby, they’d rented a house in Montauk, right on the ocean. The Atlantic had stayed cold that season, but he’d taken Charlie in a few times. He liked how Charlie’s eyes changed to match the gray green of the ocean, and he liked the surprised look that flashed across his face whenever salt water splashed into his mouth. The cold of the water made Ben’s skin dance, and the feeling of Charlie’s small body clutched against his chest made his heart swell. He could have stayed there all afternoon, just the two of them, bobbing in the waves.

  Ben wondered when he’d have the chance to swim with Bub.

  “Maybe we can go on vacation someplace by the water,” he told Bub. He pulled the baby out of the tub and rubbed a towel over his shoulders. “You’d like the Gulf Coast. Great shells there. And lots of animals. Colorful birds and rays and fish.”

  “Ish,” Bub said. He reached a hand to touch Ben’s face.

  “But would we have to shut down the whole inn to take some time off?” He ran the towel over the baby’s head. The season had turned his hair darker. “And what time of year do we do it? The fall’s going to be the busiest season. But there’s skiing in the winter and lots of outdoors stuff in the spring and summer. It’s not like there’s a clear off-season, you know?”

  Ben couldn’t make out Bub’s answer, but he nodded to the boy. He didn’t even know if they could afford to take nice vacations anymore.

  “Right, I’m sure we’ll figure it out. Tons of people own small businesses, and they must take time off, right?”
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  “Who are you talking to?” Charlie asked from the doorway.

  “Your brother.”

  “What is he saying?”

  “Can’t you understand him?”

  “No. You can?”

  “Of course.” Ben finished drying Bub and wrapped the towel around him.

  “I try to understand,” Charlie said. “I know he wants us to understand.”

  “Maybe you should try being a better listener. You’re supposed to be in bed.”

  “I was in bed at school.”

  “We can’t have you passing out again. What if you hurt yourself?”

  Charlie didn’t say anything and didn’t move from the doorway. “Who was the lady I had to talk to today?” he finally asked.

  “A counselor. Didn’t she tell you that? I know I told you someone would be talking with you.”

  “You didn’t say why.”

  “Oh, there are a couple reasons,” Ben said. He stood up, lifting Bub with him. “Mostly because of that picture you drew of the shed burning down. Do you remember that one?”

  Charlie nodded.

  “Well, some people found the man in the smoke you drew kind of disturbing.”

  “The man in the smoke,” Charlie repeated.

  “They think you might have unresolved issues having to do with the fire.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means that they think there’s something you’re not telling us. Is there something you’d like to tell me?”

  “Like what?” A frown creased the boy’s face.

  “Like anything.”

  “You’re mad at me.”

  “No, I’m not.” Ben looked away from Charlie and kissed the top of Bub’s head.

  “You are. Sorry.”

  “Sorry for what?” Ben looked at Charlie and thought of Hudson. After tackling Charlie, Hudson had run into the forest howling at something. That very same something had kept him from ever coming home.

  “Sorry you’re mad at me.”

  “Is that an apology or a recrimination?” Ben asked.