Threshold

by Sean Platt

  She went to the poster bed, sat on its edge, then fell back against the pistachio-colored sheets. This room was pretty. Maybe the prettiest she’d been in, though smaller, and one of only two she’d seen without a built-in wall screen. The room felt slightly warmer than the hallway. A few degrees but noticeable. She tried to focus, but her eyes began to water and blur. Hazel felt exhausted.

  She rolled to her side and closed her eyes. She was so tired of feeling like she might be going crazy and having what was left of her family wondering if she was. It was awful, wondering if the things in your head were real and being afraid to say anything out loud.

  Maybe the manor would change things. For one, even Mr. Carter said the house was haunted. So if a grown-up as smart and old as him believed in ghosts, maybe Hudson and Dad would finally believe her, at least a little when she said she heard Mom’s voice. Not that she thought her mom was a ghost, but maybe they’d believe that she was still out there alive, and somehow visiting Hazel in her dreams — even if she couldn’t tell Hazel where she was or why she left. The visitations were like regular dreams in many ways, with Mom not really acting like anything was wrong. But, at the same time, they felt different, more real than dreams felt.

  Maybe now that they had a place to live, and the money to live like they wanted, Dad wouldn’t spend every second so stressed. Maybe if he wasn’t always worried, he and Hudson would get along. And maybe if Hudson was getting along with Dad, he wouldn’t be such a jerk.

  Maybe if everyone was happy, they could try harder to find Mom, or find out what happened to her.

  Hazel began to drift off until she felt a chill at her neck, and heard a whisper. “Hazel.”

  She wanted to turn around and see if someone was behind her, but didn’t dare. If she did turn, then saw someone, she’d probably die on the spot.

  No, it’s just my imagination.

  Hazel listened, waiting to see if she’d hear it again. Often, as she fell into sleep, Hazel heard her mother in whispers like this one.

  But this whisper didn’t seem like Mom’s; this was different.

  Hazel waited.

  A soft knock on the door sent her upright in bed.

  When did the door close?

  “Yes?” Hazel barely managed before clearing her throat and trying again. “Yes, who is it?”

  The door opened to a pretty brunette girl. “Hi. Can I come in?”

  “Sure.”

  The girl, who looked to be in her early twenties or younger, opened the door all the way, walked over to Hazel, and stood at the bed’s edge, holding an iPad.

  “I’m Mara. It’s great to meet you.” She held out her hand.

  Hazel took it. “Time for lunch?”

  “Sure is. Wanna follow me?”

  “Okay.” Hazel added “Sorry” on her way to the door.

  “Why?” Mara asked as she stepped into the hallway.

  “There are so many doors. You must’ve had to open a lot, or you were really lucky to find me.” Hazel laughed.

  “Na,” Mara waved her hand. “It was easy. See.”

  She showed Hazel the iPad screen, and the readout displaying the manor’s many rooms, with a pair of red dots in their occupied square.

  “What’s this?”

  “We have infrared security cameras all over the estate.”

  Hazel looked around the room for hidden cameras, but saw nothing.

  “I don’t see any cameras.”

  “Don’t worry, they’re only sensors, not actual cameras, so you don’t have to worry about anyone spying.”

  “Okay.”

  Hazel followed Mara down the hallway, wondering if there had been a third dot in the room a few minutes before.

  * * * *

  SCOTT

  Scott was hoping he’d have Carter figured out soon.

  The caretaker either wanted to make himself a permanent part of the Dawson clan or was the friendliest old man Scott had ever met. With the exception of his own father, who was as big of an asshole at fifty-nine when he died as he had been at forty-one when his only son had been born, the old guys Scott had known seemed to soften with age. Carter must’ve been a lamb in his prime. He had yet to leave their side since Davenport’s departure, and was now joining them for dinner, served by Jacquelyn and her daughter, Mara.

  “So whaddya think of the manor?” Carter chewed on a grilled cheese sandwich. They were sitting in a large room that wasn’t a dining room even though the caretaker had said it was “only for eating.”

  “I volunteer to never leave.” Hudson turned to his sister. “You can go whenever you want.”

  Scott was uncomfortable, not because Hudson was piling on Hazel like always, but because Scott was reminded of his devil’s bargain: agreeing that they would all stay at the manor as conditional prisoners.

  It was a ridiculous stipulation, with no way to change it. Looking around, what right did he have to feel guilty? The place was a palace, with everything they needed. They were no longer in financial jeopardy, and could leave the house and money behind if (and whenever) they wanted. Scott kept that rationale on the tip of his tongue in case either child raised an objection.

  “You mean we’ll have opposite schedules, and I won’t ever have to see you?” Hazel said. “Sounds like a good deal to me.”

  Hudson grunted, and the children traded glares.

  Scott looked from one to the other.

  “Either of you have any questions about the house, or anything at all? I’m sure Carter would be happy to answer.”

  “Got that right.” He nodded and reached for another sandwich. “Ask away.”

  Hazel’s words collided with her brother’s.

  “Hold on! One at a time or none at all.” Carter pointed at Hudson. “I think you beat your sister by a hair, thin as it was, and you’re the eldest, so you go first.” He winked at Hazel. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. You can take longer when it’s your turn.”

  Hudson smirked and turned to Carter.

  “Did you ever know my mom?”

  “Well, I can’t say I ever really knew her, but yes, I met your mother, back when she was small.”

  “When did you know her?” Scott blurted.

  Carter looked at his watch, paused in thought, looked back at the face as if it displayed years rather than hours, and laughed. “Hell, I don’t know. I can’t tell you when unless I figure your mom’s age now to her maybe age then. You probably want to know how old she was when I saw her, right?”

  The Dawsons nodded.

  “Well, and hold me to none of this — I’m sharp, but not like I used to be — I think I saw your mother here three different times, and I’ll say those times were when she was around seven, nine, and ten, or maybe eleven.” Carter turned to Hazel. “She looked an awful lot like you do now.” He pointed to Hazel’s head. “Thick brown hair, big pretty eyes, even browner. Nothing but cheeks and eyes!”

  “Thanks,” Hazel said, looking down at the table, embarrassed. “Do you have any pictures?” she asked, looking back up.

  Carter broke into a smile and nodded. “Yup. I’m sure I do. Nothing digital unfortunately, but we have plenty of archives in the record room, pictures, documents, and whatnots. The Galloways have always been fussy enough with their labels and filing, especially Alastair. He had to be, before computers started making everything easy. Give me a bit, maybe less. I’ll be back with some pictures. Your mom might be in one or two, assuming I can get this old manual computer to remember an approximate date.” He tapped the side of his head as he stood, then left the room.

  Scott looked at Hudson and Hazel. “So, who wants to tell me what they really think of all this?”

  “I think it’s awesome. Hazel thinks it’s boo-hoo-baby-cry.”

  “Your sister hasn’t done anything to deserve that.”

  “She will.”

  Hazel gave her brother a dirty look. “I’m glad we’re here, Dad. I think it’s awesome. And I love my room!”

  “Wh
y are you glad?”

  “Because it feels like Mom.”

  Hudson laughed. “You mean it’s haunted?”

  Hazel turned to her brother. “No, I can’t explain. It just feels like she’s with us.”

  Hudson rolled his eyes but (mercifully) said nothing. He turned to Scott. “What do you think, Dad?”

  “I think this is an amazing opportunity. Other than that, I don’t know what to think. I keep feeling like I should be searching for hidden cameras.”

  Hudson laughed. “I have been looking for cameras! I saw a bunch of sensors, maybe an alarm system. Those could have cameras in them I guess.”

  Hazel said, “Better not pick your nose, then.”

  At first Hudson looked like he might fire back, but then he broke into a laugh.

  Then they all laughed with him.

  The Dawsons kept going: Joking, laughing, and voicing doubts out loud. Their collective mood improved as they debated life’s newest impossibility. Scott managed to get each child to say their favorite thing so far. Hudson said space and privacy — he was glad to be away from the jerks (Scott knew he meant assholes) in Las Orillas. Hazel said she was grateful for a place to start over where Mom could find them, and the chance to be happy again. Scott said his favorite thing was the feeling that everything might finally be fine, and to put the past year behind them and leave it where it belonged.

  Things felt almost natural, better than they had in a while. Enough so that when Carter returned with the photos, Scott wished that the old man had taken longer, so the moment wouldn’t end.

  Carter hefted a large wooden box, about the size of five coffee table books stacked together, onto the tabletop. “Sorry it took so long.”

  The Dawsons dug through the box as if sifting for treasure. Hazel found something first. “I found one!” Then a second later, “This whole stack is hers! She’s in a bunch!”

  Carter passed the stacks around, scattering photos across the table. Most were of Holly alone, playing in the gardens, reading in the gazebo, and splashing around in what looked like a temporary pool.

  Seeing her in this place, a place she’d never told him about, with a family she’d never mentioned, made Scott feel like he was peeking into a secret past. And it made him wonder what other secrets she might have been keeping. Maybe she had a secret family out there now, another husband, other kids, whom she was settled down with.

  He was about to stop looking before the feelings of betrayal surged even stronger, when two photos caught his attention.

  The first was Holly in bed, reading a book. From the ceiling’s slant and the window in the background, Scott could see she was staying in Hazel’s chosen room.

  “That’s my room!” Hazel pointed at the photo. “Is that where Mommy stayed?”

  “Why yes, it was,” Carter said. “How interesting.”

  Hazel held the photo, staring at it, smiling.

  The second photo was of a much younger Carter holding Holly in his arms. The caretaker stared down into the girl’s eyes. She looked up at him, smiling.

  “Hey, that’s me!” Carter yelled, jabbing the photo. “I remember that picture. Heck, I remember that day!”

  “Why isn’t there anyone else?” Scott asked. “Where are Holly’s parents? Weren’t there any cousins? Why is she the only one in these pictures?”

  “Because that was taken on Holly’s solo trip to Clovis Point. Usually, Alastair invited the whole family, but he also wanted to make sure that every child had the chance to visit the manor themselves, and experience it ‘as if they were the only heir.’ That was Holly’s week.”

  “There are other heirs? I thought you said Holly was the last.”

  “There were, three others, all unfortunately passed.” Carter looked away as if to say he didn’t want to discuss it.

  Scott wondered if his reticence was not wanting to open old wounds, or if it was something else — something more secretive.

  Hudson, still flipping through photos, asked, “Where’s Uncle Alastair?”

  Carter laughed. “Ha! You might find a picture or two in one of those piles, but I doubt it. Alastair was a very private man, except around family. Even then he hated having his picture taken.”

  Hazel asked, “I know you didn’t know her well, but do you remember what my mom was like?”

  “Of course. It’s the dates that give me trouble.”

  “Well … what was she like?”

  “A natural sweetheart like yourself, but a total chatterbox. Unlike you, your mother never stopped talking. Still, it was impossible not to adore her. She was about the happiest child I’d ever met. Alastair was smitten.”

  Scott imagined the girl from Carter’s description, and wondered what he’d done to drive her grown version away.

  “The first weekend Holly was here, she spent most of her time in the kitchen with Jacquelyn and her mom, Angelica, the three of them making preserves. Holly didn’t want to go anywhere else. The girls made plum, peach, fig, apricot, and grape. Instead of lining them straight in the pantry like Angelica always did, Holly set up sample stations and made us all try her ‘Holly’s Sweet Preserves.’ She made labels, with her name and a logo, all drawn with colored pencils.”

  Carter paused, and leaned toward Hazel. “Sorry, dear. Looks like I’ve gone and got you thinking about your mother.”

  “It’s okay. I think about Mom all the time, anyway. It’s nice to hear stories.” She looked up. Scott knew what she was going to say before she did. “Sometimes Mom still talks to me.”

  “Really?” Carter’s eyebrows and voice said he was surprised, but Scott’s instincts said otherwise. He wondered if the old man had overheard them talking about Holly. He couldn’t remember if Carter had been present during any of the times when Hudson had hazed his sister over supposedly hearing their mother.

  Hudson pointed an accusing finger at Hazel. “That’s not true. She’s either a liar or crazy, I happen to think it’s the first.”

  Ignoring Hudson, and eyes still on Carter she said, “My brother’s not stupid, he just can’t see what’s right in front of him.”

  “You are so stupid. Mom’s not talking to you. You act like she’s a ghost coming back to make sure you brushed your teeth.”

  “I didn’t say she was a ghost.”

  “Oh yeah, then what is she?”

  Scott watched his children, unsure (like usual) whether he should cut in.

  “I don’t know. But that doesn’t make me a liar. You’re just mad that Mom doesn’t want to talk to a jerkface.”

  Hudson was a blink from explosion. He turned toward his sister, using his size to bear down on her. Scott stepped between them and spread the siblings apart with his arms.

  “What is wrong with you two? Both of you, stop it!”

  His heart was pounding. Hudson’s quiet but physical threat to Hazel made Scott want to pick up his son and drag him through the room like an old roll of carpet, then pound the dust from his body like Scott’s old man used to pound it from his. He had a hand around each of his children’s arms, just above the elbow. He let go of both, shaking his head.

  Carter stayed quiet through their discord. When he spoke, his voice was softer, almost like a different man. “It’s quite all right. Tensions will be high. The manor is new to you, but full of old memories that may stir something inside you. You’ll have to acclimate, to this place, and to one another while living inside it.”

  Carter turned to Hazel and, as if it were a perfectly serious question, asked, “How do you know your mother is actually speaking to you? Have you considered that it might all be in your head?”

  Galloway Manor’s caretaker asked Hazel what Scott hadn’t been able to — though Hudson had accused her plenty — in the six months since she’d started hearing the voice.

  “Because Mom wouldn’t just leave us. She isn’t like that. She said she couldn’t come back from where she was, but that she was trying. She wanted me to know, and asked if I would tell Dad an
d Hudson. I did, but they don’t believe me.”

  “Hazel …” Scott started.

  Hudson growled, “Oh, yeah, if Mom’s really talking to you, why doesn’t she tell you where she is, or why she left in the first place?”

  “I don’t know,” Hazel said. “I’m not sure if she knows.”

  “How convenient! I’m so sick of this, it actually makes me miss your second-grade baby talk. And you,” he turned on Scott, “what’s wrong with you? Why are you such a quitter? There’s no way I would have given up on Mom … not like you did.”

  “I didn’t give up on—”

  “Yes, you did,” Hudson said, resentment rolling from his throat. “Why aren’t we looking for her? Why aren’t we searching for Mom right now? Why haven’t we hired a private investigator?”

  Scott was surprised. He thought Hudson believed that Holly was dead. Had he changed his mind? Did he now suspect what Scott did — that she’d simply left them? If so, did Hudson blame him?

  “I did hire a private investigator. But after two months, I ran out of money. We couldn’t make our mortgage. We were living on credit cards. Do you know how much a decent PI costs? We could barely afford food, Hudson. Get outside of your head for a second and ask yourself what you would really do.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us you hired someone?”

  “Because I didn’t want to raise anyone’s hopes.”

  “You should’ve told us when you couldn’t pay him anymore. Or better yet, you should’ve found a way. I wouldn’t have given up. I would’ve found a way, no matter what. That’s what Mom would’ve done, and you know it. You just better hope that when she eventually finds us here at Casa Giganta she’ll be able to forget that you quit on her.”

  “I did not give up, Hudson. Until now, we haven’t had any resources. Now, we can do something, now we can hire someone again to find your mother — to find my wife. But this is exactly what I don’t need. None of us does. Get a hold on your emotions.” Scott turned to Carter. “We can use the money for whatever we want, right? Including searching for Holly?”

  “Of course. As Mr. Davenport said, the money is yours so long as you’re here.”