by Sean Platt
Hudson rolled his eyes. “Yeah.”
“No, it’s not. It’s the plot of To Live and Die in L.A., and a hundred other films better than that one. Know your history, son. And guess what?”
“What?”
“They’re all here. Every one of them. If it’s not in theaters now, you can get it at any one of the manor’s terminals. Roku, Apple TV, PSWhatever. And you—” he turned to Hazel.
She looked up.
“Why go to Briar Creek? The best land around here is on Galloway grounds. This place goes on forever, and there’s another creek running right through your property.” The old man jerked a thumb behind him. “We have everything you could want: Forest, creeks, and if you go far enough, you’ll eventually find ocean. There are markers that’ll tell you when you’ve left Galloway acreage. Stay between ‘em, and you’ve plenty of places to draw or think on the past.”
“That’s not the point.” Hudson grimaced. “Sometimes it’s nice to just get away.”
“That’s just conditioning, son. How many thousands of years did folks never leave the few square miles from where they were born? If you have everything you could possibly want, why leave? Habit? If so, why not break it now by building a new one? Of course, you’ll want to go, and of course you can. Each of us leaves every once in a while. But respect the rules, and there aren’t limits to the life you can live.”
“Here,” Hudson corrected. “The life we can live here.”
“Yes,” he smiled. “The life you can live here.”
Hudson didn’t want to argue, but was surprised to see Dad so silent. He expected him to argue for them, to ask the old man about the future, to wonder out loud what they would do if one of them wanted to trek through Europe while the other went to some stupid art school. What if they wanted to date, or get married? There was no way in hell Hudson was willing to stay a virgin any longer than he had to, especially now that he had money. People not leaving their homes for thousands of years was irrelevant. The world had moved on.
“Yeah, I’m still going to the movies.” He turned to Dad. “Wanna come?”
“We’ll discuss this later. As a family.”
Carter cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. “Well then, how’s everything else. We’re continuing to settle in nicely?”
The Dawsons exchanged nervous glances, the longest between Dad and Hazel. “It sounded like there was some commotion last night. Everything fine?”
Dad nodded. “Yes, everything is fine.”
The old man seemed to intentionally stretch their awkward silence, for maybe a full minute before finally slapping his hands on the table and standing. “Well, whether it’s the movies or the Creek, or a happily ever afternoon here, I wish y’all well.”
He smiled then stepped away from the nook, trading places with Mara, as if she’d been waiting for his exit to equal her entrance. She entered the nook, poured Dad more hot coffee, and cleared their dishes. She asked the Dawsons if they needed anything, got three no thank-yous, then left.
Hudson nodded at his sister, then asked his dad, “Why not tell Cooter about Freakshow’s oogey-boogey last night?”
“Because.”
Dad was on edge. Hudson pushed on anyway. Hell, he didn’t even know why he pushed so hard sometimes, it was as if some primal thing inside him was pulling the strings, forcing him to be a jerk.
And even in moments like this, where he recognized he might be going too far, he couldn’t stop. Didn’t want to stop.
“Because why?”
“Because I think that, for now, it’s best to observe.”
Hudson tipped back in his chair, holding his balance with a toe to the table top. Dad rubbed his arms, looking like he was using every ounce of self-control to keep himself seated, rather than knocking Hudson from the chair.
“So,” Hudson said, looking from Hazel to Dad, “how long are we really staying?”
“Forever,” Hazel said.
“I’m not staying anywhere forever.”
Dad said, “We’re not staying forever.”
Hudson pressed: “So, how long?”
“A while. I don’t know anything more than you do, Hudson. What do you want me to do?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Hudson shrugged, tipping forward and tucking hair behind his ear. “Maybe get some answers since you’re the leader of the family and that’s your job.”
“We have everything we need here, Hudson, but by all means we don’t want you to feel like a prisoner. Would you like to go? I’m happy putting this to a family vote. Who wants to stay?”
Hazel raised her hand, smiling her smug, stupid smile. “I vote yes.”
Dad raised his. “I vote yes. And Hudson, are you going to vote yes like I know you want to, or are you going to keep being a pain in the ass?”
“Excuse me for wanting to know the terms of my sentence.”
“You’re not a prisoner, Hudson. Don’t be so melodramatic.”
“Um … if I can’t leave, I’m a prisoner.”
“No, Hudson. You’re my son. That means that until you turn eighteen you’re in my legal custody. You’re no more a prisoner here than you were in Las Orillas.”
“Exactly.” Hudson plopped in his chair so that all four legs scraped the hardwood floor.
“Christ, Hudson. And you call Hazel a drama queen? Why are you being so difficult? I thought you liked this place. I thought you wanted to be here. I thought you wanted us to use the money we now have and start looking for Mom. I have Davenport reaching out to some people, and am doing the very best that I can. What’s with the attitude? What’s your actual problem?”
“Fine, Dad. You wanna know why I’m pissed?”
“Yes, please enlighten me,” Dad said, ignoring Hudson’s curse word.
Hazel’s eyes darted between them.
“If we’re a part of this family, why weren’t we consulted? You’re offering a vote now, sure, but why didn’t we get one when that lawyer pitched the deal? Why did you decide for all of us?”
“What would you have me do, Hudson? If I had asked for a vote, it would’ve been unanimous: three in favor of trading misery for a mansion. I didn’t have a choice. We were going to lose the house.”
“No, Dad. You were going to lose the house. I know, totally shocking after not paying crap for like half a year. You lost your business in 2011, maybe you should’ve looked for a job sooner, maybe tried to provide for your family.”
Hudson knew he should exercise caution — Dad’s face was already crimson — but he felt like a wolf smelling wounded prey and wanted to finish the hunt. He leaned forward. “Maybe you shouldn’t have mooched off the Woman of the House for so long that when she finally left, you didn’t know what to do.”
Hudson knew he’d gone too far. His jaw detonated with pain as Dad’s open palm smacked him hard.
Hudson flew from his chair to the ground.
Though his jaw was throbbing, he was more shocked than hurt. Hudson looked up to see his father standing over him, fists shaking, eyes full of rage — like he wasn’t done.
Hudson swallowed, frozen, wondering if Dad was actually going to hit him again.
Hudson looked at Hazel, his face and eyes stinging with rage and embarrassment. He was moments from crying, but damn it if he was going to surrender and give either of them the satisfaction of his tears.
Hudson scrambled to his feet and raced from the nook, refusing to look back, even as Dad called, “Get back here!” loudly behind him.
He tore into the kitchen. Jacquelyn and Mara, standing side by side and staring down into a large open book, both looked up. A tiny smile cracked through his rage as he stopped. He gave it to Mara. Dad’s hand fell on his shoulder and spun him around.
“What?” Hudson scowled.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”
“For a walk.” He shrugged Dad from his shoulder, posturing for Mara. “I’m leaving the manor. Hazel can wait. I’ll be back before dark.”<
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“We’re not done here!”
Hudson met Dad’s eyes, still swallowing tears. “Yes. We are.”
Hudson turned, anticipating that Dad would grab him. But he walked away without resistance.
Hudson marched from the kitchen, through the hallway, and out of the house until he was descending the long driveway. He didn’t see Johnston, and didn’t care. A movie was merely a reason to leave. Dry Heat looked stupid, but it was the only thing playing in town that anyone would believe he wanted to see. He passed through the iron gate leading to the walkway and stepped onto the road, eager to put his family behind him.
Sure, Galloway Manor was a palace, but that didn’t mean it should be a prison. Hudson wasn’t pissed that Dad had agreed to keep them there. His decision was temporary and made sense. And he wasn’t just mad that his father didn’t consult with his kids. That was the tip of the list of what pissed Hudson off.
Under that was the fact that it was his father’s fault that they lost their old house.
And just under those two things were a lot of feelings that Hudson couldn’t quite organize. He’d had the growing feeling that his mother didn’t just vanish. She left them, because of Dad. While he’d been softer in recent years, Hudson could still remember how angry he was before Hazel was born. Violent and scary, always on edge — like he’d become recently. Or not just recently, if Hudson was being honest. There were moments of tension in the house before Mom disappeared. Small battles fought when they thought the children were sleeping. Something had happened, and Mom wasn’t happy. Maybe she’d discovered that the monster in Dad was only napping. While he hadn’t been violent with his children, he could have been with her. Maybe she knew a side of Dad that scared her into leaving.
Maybe she couldn’t take any more, and had to escape.
No, she wouldn’t leave us with a psychopath. That doesn’t make sense.
As he kept walking the road away from the manor, Hudson surprised himself with a pitch-black thought:
What if Dad killed her?
No, no way.
He might be a jerk, but he would not, could not, kill her.
Hudson remembered how Dad had looked when the police showed up, saying Mom’s rental was found on the side of the road, without any physical trace. He’d crumpled like paper.
No, he didn’t do anything. Someone took, and likely killed, her.
Hudson suddenly felt like crap for pushing Dad so far, but wasn’t willing to about-face back to the manor for an apology. He needed someone to be angry at for his mother’s disappearance; if he couldn’t direct it at Dad or Hazel, a long walk might help him blow off enough steam so he could be around people again later.
He tried to focus on the positive, like Mom would have suggested. They were in a new place, with a fresh life, and enough money to get whatever they wanted, or at least whatever Dad would allow. Finances weren’t the crushing worry they’d been. They had a place to live and full pantries. That was something. And the manor was awesome, the sort of place you dreamed of living. Hudson was acting like the spoiled brat he accused Hazel of being.
Even thinking of good things, Hudson couldn’t help but consider the bad. Not being allowed to leave meant home schooling once summer ended. School was the one thing that could have normalized their lives, and they couldn’t even go.
Who would’ve thought I’d want to go to school?
After walking for nearly half an hour and turning down a few side roads along the heavily wooded countryside, Hudson felt a deep and almost aching chill.
What if I get lost?
With their new fortune, Hudson was sure they’d all have smartphones, GPS, and whatnots in no time. For now, he felt slightly uncertain, and potentially lost. He knew how to reach Galloway Manor from where he was, but didn’t know how long that feeling would last.
About a mile, or maybe three, down the road, Hudson finally started seeing spots of life. He would walk for fifteen minutes between sightings, but had so far passed three large estates, all sprawling but none a quarter of the Galloway Manor’s size, two much smaller houses, a tiny stone church, and an ancient graveyard — the only place he stopped for more than a pause. Hudson studied headstones for twenty minutes or so, hoping to see something with his family name. He found nothing, and even being no later than noon, Hudson was too creeped out to stay long.
Eventually, Hudson had walked far enough that he reached what looked like a main street in town. There were children playing, and a group of older kids milling by what looked like an old-fashioned general store with a red circular sign painted on the front window with white letters that read: Joe’s Shoppe.
Hudson looked both ways, stepped into the street, then crossed. He surveyed the cluster — two dudes and a hot girl around his age — meeting the eyes of no one as he passed them on his way inside.
As he opened the door, Hudson realized that he’d have to circulate through the store, but buy nothing. He’d huffed from the manor wearing the same empty pockets he’d fallen asleep in the night before.
He pretended to look through the dairy section, the cleaning supplies, and finally the scant cereal aisle before the thin, balding man behind the counter asked him if he needed help with anything in a thinly disguised request that he leave.
“No,” Hudson said, heading for the exit. “But thanks!”
He opened the door and stepped outside, starving for a reason to stay and linger with his fellow prisoners of youth out front, but not wanting to seem desperate or dorky. They were dressed like they had money, but still approachable.
“Hey,” Hudson said with a nod at what looked like the oldest of the three, a tall kid with shiny black hair, maybe sixteen or seventeen, sitting on his bike and leaning over the handlebars at his two friends on foot.
The kid looked him up and down, then turned to the other guy and girl. The girl, pale with jet-black hair with blue highlights, stopped sucking on her slushie, and all three kids started to laugh. Hudson knew the chuckle: They’d been talking about him while he was inside.
Hudson wanted to disappear.
But then the guy on the bike extended his hand. “I’m Brian. This is my sister, Iris.” Hudson nodded at the pretty girl and felt his stomach churn as he met her piercing-blue eyes. “And this is my idiot friend, Josh.”
Josh, who had long brown hair that fell over half his long almost horse-like face, laughed.
Hudson took Brian’s hand and shook it, then moved to Iris and Josh.
“So, what are you doing in Clovis Point?” Brian asked.
“We just moved here. Me, my dad, and my little sister.”
Brian nodded. “Oh yeah? Cool. Where’re you living?”
“You know Galloway Manor?” Hudson glanced behind him as if the castle loomed over his shoulder, even though there was a forest of trees between them and the town. Everyone in Clovis Point surely knew about the manor — Hudson was hoping his potential friends would be suitably impressed.
By the look in everyone’s eyes, Hudson was suddenly interesting.
Brian asked, “You’re a Galloway?”
“I guess. Or at least my mom was.”
Iris pulled the slushie straw from her mouth. “Was?”
“Yeah,” he said as he mulled over how to best explain his situation. Telling people your mom vanished opened up a whole can of worms he didn’t feel like dealing with. “She’s dead.”
“Oh shit …” Josh fell a step back.
Iris said, “I’m so sorry.”
Brian rolled his bike a bit closer and half-whispered. “Seen any ghosts there?”
Hudson felt cautious. “What makes you ask that?” His hands clenched into involuntary fists which he hid in his pockets.
Iris said, “You mean … you don’t know?”
“I’ve heard some stuff, I guess,” Hudson shrugged. “But I’d love to know what I don’t.”
Iris smiled. “Where you going now? Have any plans?”
“Nope. Just had to
get away.”
Iris looked at her brother, then at Josh. Both boys nodded. She turned to Hudson. “Come on, we’ll tell you all about Galloway Manor.”
Josh dropped his empty cup in the trash, and Iris did the same. They left the storefront, Hudson thinking about the kids back home, and how they would’ve tried to act cool by dropping their cups on the ground rather than the garbage cans. These kids were either more cultured, or didn’t feel the need to front. Brian pedaled ahead, making lazy circles around them as they followed.
Hudson walked beside Iris, trying not to be too obvious while sneaking peeks at her. From what he could tell, Josh and Iris weren’t an item, which meant he might have a chance with the prettiest girl he’d seen in a year or longer.
* * * *
SCOTT
“What?” Scott said, staring back at Hazel.
She’d been glaring at him from across the table ever since Hudson stormed off on his tantrum.
“Nothing.”
“If it’s nothing, then why are you looking at me like that?”
“Dunno,” Hazel shrugged. “I guess I just feel bad … about Hudson. It’s not your fault, though. He was being kind of a wiener.”
Scott raised his eyebrows and laughed. “A wiener?”
Hazel laughed back. “Yeah, a wiener. I’m not allowed to say the other word for it, am I?”
“No,” Scott shook his head. “Certainly not.”
He shifted in his seat, loathing the silence.
After a minute Hazel said, “I’m glad we’re here …”
He tapped his foot, imagining that Hazel would want to talk about the night before — about the gazebo, Holly, and things she insisted were there when they weren’t. Hazel would want to feed the something inside her that Scott could not understand.
“I just want to say thanks, Dad. Hudson’s being a jerk like always, but I’m glad we’re here.”
Scott smiled. “You already said that.”
Hazel still looked like she wanted to say more but kept her mouth closed.
“So, what do you think about finding one of the creeks on our property? Do you think it sounds as good as Briar Creek?”
