by Zoe Adams
The second car was a mean-looking race car that growled in its slow pursuit.
Billboards lured them past closed destinations that had been falling to the ground for some time. A sign the shape of a covered wagon insisted for miles that the Wagon Ring had the best vacation pool, biggest mini golf, and shortest walk to the showers. Every tourist should stop whether they preferred tents, mobile camps, or cabins for their vacationing privacy.
They finally passed the dilapidated destination. The pool was a field of dirt still kind of fenced in. Mini golf looked like a treasure of fallen trinkets. A shower house was a pile of rubble in the center of camp.
Indiana was gripping the steering wheel tighter with every click of the digital tock. She did not make a practice of following anyone. She knew there would be no shifting up and passing him. Her disconcerted feeling was real.
Traveling crumbling roads, crossing a bridge that only had boards for the tires, and going to even more overgrown spaces had been exciting, in a bad way. There were far too many significant reminders of why any woman should not separate themselves from society.
And then there was concrete, tons of it. The road cut through the overgrown terrain, and provided optimum chance of speed in its flatness. It stretched straight ahead and behind them, and they drove onto the very smooth road before stopping.
“What is this place?” Indiana asked from behind her steering wheel.
“This is where the speed record was broken, and races continued for twenty years. This place used to be a hub of speed chasers. Then they built the interstate, and traffic moved out of here.”
Indiana was pacing the stretch of road.
“Concrete?” She kicked it and looked up hesitantly.
“Yeah, well, back then they just poured it thick and deep. Withstood pretty good, huh?” Walt smiled proudly.
“Yes it did. How long is it?” Indiana considered the pile of disintegrating rubble lining the tracks.
There were bleachers without seats, and fences without skirts. Paths were just different colors of weeds. The place was neglected but significant. Indiana felt like it had been saved just for her.
“Well, the valley is more than a mile in circumference. The straight edge we are on is a thousand feet.”
Indiana stood dumbfounded by the enormity of the unused and fun land. “Who owns this place?”
“You’re looking at him.” Walter was instantly proud, and he raised his hands up.
“Do you race?” Indiana felt the heat rise through the soles of her feet at the thought of speed.
“Oh no, I like to gamble, but only with certain things.” Walt winked at her.
“Oh, so what do you do with this place?”
“Currently nothing. Its last lover was my father, and my heart is not in driving. I’m more like my mother and am all about pushing, pulling, and making things succeed.” Walt flexed and turned his betraying palm. “Well, that and my poor hand-eye coordination. This place waits to be rediscovered, either by man or nature.”
“This seal of rubber in the road looks new.” Indiana pushed her toe down to the ground.
“I have my hobbies.” Walt rolled his eyes. “I’ll let you drive my car if you let me drive yours.”
Indiana shyly inched back to her precious car.
“I don’t blame you for being nervous, that is how a proper girl should feel. In my car, in the glove box, is my second wife’s hand pistol. And I swear you can use it any time you get nervous.” Walt smiled. “Come on, you like to drive. Follow me to my house and my fifth wife can cook us breakfast.”
Indiana walked to his very cool car. She looked in the back seat, and then in the front. She made sure that the very friendly stranger stayed well away from her before she leaned over to check the glove box. The pistol was there and she grabbed it, just so he wouldn’t have it.
“All right, I can see you’re nervous.” He laughed with the wind. “I shouldn’t have told you about the gun. Just set it down. I will drive my car and if you want, you can follow me to my house.”
Indiana handed over the gun and blushed. “Nobody drives my car. Besides, I don’t know how much gas is in your car and if I will get stuck in the middle of nowhere, or worse. Or maybe you have friends waiting to take my car.”
“Whew, that’s a lot of worries. Do you want a tour or not?”
Indiana felt childish when she sat behind the wide wheel of her muscle car. The hospitable host led her in a quick upstart. The high octane of coveted cars roared down the windblown way. It finally led into a newer connection with exciting curves and ladders leading to the next straight zone of speed.
They eventually slowed and turned onto another road. The road was barely wider than the cars.
Indiana didn’t mind following when she could get up to speed at a reasonable pace. The drive wound its way across an insanely flat valley. They came to its respective edge and went up a slight incline.
A square house sat facing a long field. The smoking trail of cars was put to rest at the end of a curving question mark-shaped stretch.
Indiana looked at the friendly home and overly inviting yard.
“I like your house,” Indiana said, and looked down into the valley.
“Yeah, from here the view is the best.” Then Walt amended, “Well, from here, and there.”
Indiana was startled to see a landmark she hadn’t even noticed. Another house sat on the opposing outer rim of the valley, on top of a jutted out cliff. The dangling design was superior in its angles, and from a distance it blended with the mountain behind it. The house had been built of stone, to match stone. Sitting on top of that quick incline it looked small except for windows glinting widely. It sat as an abstract and symmetrical house built in baby boom fashion, to look modern forever.
“Who lives there?” Indiana noticed her voice might have changed timbre.
“No one.” Walt sounded almost apologetic.
Indiana couldn’t figure out why no one lived in it. She was led away from the mysterious house and into an entirely different house. This one completely new, but built to look old. Walt’s home was crammed full of original and fragile pieces, which could not be better off in a museum.
Walter greeted wife number five richly.
“Charlotte, this is Indiana Bernstein.”
Indiana was much more comfortable with the woman who smiled warmly. Indiana sat down at the table with all the care of a clucking hen. Brunch was a hot quiche and cold salad that had the young girl’s eyes dropping.
“Come, come, you really must stay here, at least for the night.” Charlotte looked like a vivacious woman half the age of her husband. She commanded the duo since their arrival.
Indiana’s eyes were struggling to stay open and a yawn couldn’t be stopped. She knew when to cut her losses and consider herself defeated. Besides, she knew better than to drive a car tired.
“I’m sorry to impose. Your house makes me feel so comfortable. Thank you for having me.” As soon as the decision had been decided and accepted she couldn’t wait to see what she had agreed to, and yawned again.
Charlotte smiled broadly. “It’s very nice to have you stay. What else can two old people do with such a large house? I’m a good host, and can see you’re tired. Come along, and I’ll show you the guest rooms.”
“Well, I’m a good guest and will probably be asleep in about five minutes.” Indiana smiled until she saw the very bright and cheerful guest room.
“I apologize, but this room is much too bright.” Indiana didn’t step foot into the jarring light showcasing a willowy princess bed and whimsical girly stuff.
“Oh, well, you will like this one much more.” Charlotte led her to another room and opened the door.
The next room was masculine and dark.
Indiana smiled. “Thanks for understanding. This room is great.”
Indiana lay down and was out like a light. She slept so hard she didn’t move once during the whole sleep that stole her conscious
ness.
Chapter 13
Indiana slept all afternoon and most of the night. She woke up and checked her wristwatch. It said only four in the morning, but she couldn’t stay in bed a minute longer.
She fell asleep fully clothed two nights in a row. Her clothes were in the car, along with a shower bag and towel. Indiana knew it was weird to travel with her own towel, but she had developed the habit at a young age. She couldn’t help being peculiar and liked a certain kind of lightweight plushness against her skin. Overly picky or not, she knew what she liked, and if people liked her, then they should like all of her.
She tiptoed through the house quietly and found the front door. She felt much more awake once she was outside. The morning air felt so crisp and fresh. Indiana stopped and breathed deeply. There were no manmade sounds of cars or people. Only nature’s birds and bugs accompanied the walk through the yard.
Indiana grabbed her things and went back inside the house. She stopped in the kitchen and started the coffeepot. By the time she was done showering the coffee would be ready, and Indiana didn’t believe in wasting time waiting.
Her shower was long and hot. She dressed in comfortable suede pants and a silk sleeveless shirt. A light coat of foundation, mascara, and lipstick had her feeling on top of the world.
She walked downstairs and into a kitchen. The windows were just starting to lighten up. She put bread in the toaster. A coffee mug hung on a hook on the wall, and Indiana claimed it for breakfast.
Halfway through her toast, the hosts padded into the room, still wearing pajamas.
Indiana looked up guiltily. “I’m sorry. Did I wake you up?”
Charlotte laughed and filled two mugs with coffee. “No, we always wake up early.”
The guest felt refreshed and comfortable at the kitchen table as she visited with her two hosts.
Indiana looked curiously at the couple. “Charlotte, are you from here too?”
“No.” She smiled at the memory. “I fell in love with this place driving through, just like you.”
Indiana had a hard time nailing down the particulars of why a racing strip sat nearby and no one used it. She also wanted to know about the stone house on the cliff. The conversation rolled around until she ciphered the entire area only had one owner.
“Why doesn’t anyone live in that house on the cliff?” Indiana finally asked.
Walt shared a heavy look with his wife before telling. “My brother lived there a long time ago. His wife died on the cliffs and he swore no one would live there again.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Indiana contemplated the situation. “I really like the house, though. I wish I could see it. It would be perfect for what I have in mind.”
She looked down at her empty coffee cup despondently. Walt and Charlotte shared a look over her head.
“It’s been empty for a long time and will probably need massive upgrading.” Walt quietly reached for more excuses.
Charlotte groaned. “Walt, that is ridiculous. If someone wants to love the house, then you need to let them.”
Walt looked up adamantly. “There have been lots of people who wanted the house.”
Charlotte huffed. “Not since I have been around.”
Indiana gave them each a needy look. She sat on the sideline of a much debated topic. She hadn’t told them anything about herself, and so far it had been a relief. The conversations had been light and kept to easy subjects like weather, geography, and location.
Indiana would have to open up about herself if she wanted to get into that house. She sat straighter in her chair. She took a deep breath and felt it fill her being. She leaned forward and commanded all the attention her brain and body could take.
“You two have been very kind to me, and I want to thank you again.” Indiana smiled at them each individually before continuing. “I told you a little bit about myself, enough to pass through town on friendly terms. But now, I plan on staying in this town, and you deserve to know a little more. My name is Indiana Bernstein. My father was Clarence Bernstein.”
She checked to make sure the name rang a bell, but continued talking before they interrupted. “I grew up around racetracks and was homeschooled so I could travel with my dad’s race team. I have been living in private schools and dorms since my dad died. I’m seventeen years old and will graduate college next spring.”
The information had been dropped like one bombshell after another. They were shocked into silence.
Indiana continued, “I’m going to start racing cars professionally next year. This is the perfect place for me to practice. I want to live here.”
They both had shocked expressions.
“I mean, I want to live in that stone house.” She pointed out the window.
Indiana felt like she had won her case by the look in their eyes, but she continued anyway. “I have money to spend now, and will have more money when I turn eighteen. I want to see inside that house.”
Indiana wanted to jump out of her chair and start pacing, but held still. She gripped her fingers in her lap until her knuckles turned white.
Walt resigned his stance. “I thought I was tough, but you take the cake. That house can only go to a special person, and you’re it. Go look at it. The tree in the front lawn has a nail facing the house. A key is hanging on it. You might change your mind about moving into the house once you see it, though. You can have it on one condition. You have to drive my hot rod to it the first time you go there.”
Indiana nodded. “That’s it? I just have to drive your car?”
“Yes.” Walt smiled.
Indiana agreed easily. “You got a deal.”
Indiana stood up from the table. “I’ll be back in a little while.”
She left the wide veranda of the house and had a new spring in her step. Driving a cool old car added to the brightness of the memory. She carefully drove the father of race cars. The speed was fun, but she felt very hesitant with someone else’s car.
The drive was a straight shot across the flat terrain. Her smile reflected off the heavy glass windshield.
She reached the other end of the valley. She started up the semi-steep incline that zigzagged twice before stopping at the house. Indiana had been staring at the back and side of the house on the drive across the valley.
Once she was in front of the house, it seemed very different. The stone cut walls looked very tall up close. The front of the house had been built to resemble a ranch style home.
The house sat on a cliff and competed with the wide scale valley below it. Heavy beams carried the roof with a wide, sloping edge. Angled windows went up to the tall slants of the roof.
Indiana couldn’t believe it. She didn’t care what the interior of the house looked like, all of that could be changed. It was the exterior holding her captive.
A sidewalk left the driveway and ran parallel to the house. A large T went across the grass and led up to the main door. Indiana stood at the intersection in thought.
The house had been overbuilt, and so had the yard. The concrete walk continued to a patio bravely close to the edge. A heavy black table with chairs sat rusting in the sun.
There were a few overgrown bushes that looked more like trees in the yard. Other shrubbery almost covered some of the front windows of the house.
The rest of the yard was wide open. All three directions had a different view. The valley with its racetrack sat well below. The house overlooked it straight ahead. Cliffs rose steeply behind the house and all along the right side of it.
Only one tree really stood out in the yard. It should have made finding the key easier, but it didn’t. Indiana stared at the grey and brown bark for a full minute. Finally a key appeared in the wood. Indiana looked away and then back again at the spot. The key hadn’t moved, but it was barely discernible from tree bark.
Indiana unlocked the deadbolt on the door. She turned the handle and the door opened with a creak.
Indiana stood at the threshold of a big room. Sh
e left the front door open and walked into the room. Couches were covered in sheets. A large table and chairs had another dust cloth on them. The kitchen must have been off behind them to the right.
The whole left side of the room was open. Spindled railings separated the dining area from the rest. Another sitting area with a bar sunk down a few steps from the dining area.
An oversize square fireplace was in the center of the room. The same stonework as the exterior made up the hearth, the raised grate, the chimney, and the whole wall.
The sunken room had the story of windows she had chased across the valley to see. Indiana stood before the panes of glass. From here the valley looked small and big at the same time. There were trees and other things, but the view of the racetrack was clear. She could see all the way around the curving racetrack. It showed up dimly as a silver trail through the pale green and brown of the field. Driving down that road would have to wait. She turned away from the window.
Indiana let her eyes travel along the walls. Wallpaper peeled in some places and hung down in symmetrical triangles. The wall covering could be dated back to the sixties. It had gold and white shiny leaves in black, brown, and orange shadows. Even in the dim morning light and under years of dust it could be in style again.
Indiana crossed the room and walked up the three-step drop to the dining area. Behind it was the kitchen and Indiana couldn’t wait to see it. So far the house had been just what she wanted. She liked fixing up old cars. If all she had to do was clean this old house, she would consider it good luck.
The kitchen was the darkest room of the house. Indiana knew the lights would not flicker on overhead, but she tried anyway. The room answered with the click of a dead light.
Indiana looked around anyway. The cabinets were a dark solid wood. They were tall and went from ceiling to floor, with just a low counter in the middle.
The stove and refrigerator matched, but it was hard to tell which deep shade of gold or green they were.
