Winter Wake

by Rick Hautala

  Can she see me? Bri wondered.

  She cast a fearful glance up the stairway, wondering if one of her parents might be there and also be able to see the girl outside. The stairs were empty, though, and she could tell by the scuffling sounds from upstairs that they were still unloading boxes and putting things away.

  When the car pulled away, Bri wondered why it didn’t pause even when its headlights shined directly on the girl. The kitchen door banged open as Frank came in, but Bri didn’t say a word or move a muscle as she stood by the window, watching the dark roadside.

  Once the car was gone, the light from the corner streetlight wasn’t bright enough to illuminate the girl, and Bri thought she had disappeared again — had pulled a quick vanishing trick like she had on the beach. The light cast thin shadows of tree branches onto the street, but underneath the tree, the shadows were thick and black … impenetrable.

  Bri knew at least one thing now. The girl — whoever she was — must have seen her and followed her home. There was no other explanation why she was outside the house. Bri wondered why she was — there was no other word for it — spying on her.

  Maybe she’s shy ... just checking me out before she tries to meet me … She’s trying to figure out who I am.

  Bri peered out into the darkness. She had no idea if the girl was still standing out there under the tree or if she had gone home.

  And just where is home?she wondered.

  “I see you folks got some work done while I was out,” Frank said gruffly to Bri as he rolled from the kitchen into the living room.

  Bri, feeling as if she had been caught doing something wrong, quickly turned away from the living room window and smiled at her grandfather.

  “Umm — Mom and Dad did most of the moving.” She cast a quick glance over her shoulder at the window, unable to shake the feeling that the girl was still outside the house, still watching her.

  As if to prove the truth of her statement, Julia yelled from upstairs, “Bri! You know those boxes in your room aren’t going to unpack themselves.”

  With a sigh and an exaggerated slouch, Bri nodded at Frank and then trudged up the stairs to her bedroom. Walking down the hallway, she called out to her mother that Frank was home and then went into her room to face the disaster. The old, squeaky bed was gone, and Bri was happy to see her own bed. With a loud whoop, she jumped onto the bare mattress and started bouncing up and down.

  The bedroom door opened, and her mother poked her head into the room. Her face was streaked with grime and sweat, and her eyes looked tired.

  “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” she asked as she eased into the room. Her face registered disapproval at the amount of work that still needed to be done.

  “Nope — I was, uh, just getting used to it,” Bri said, slightly embarrassed at being caught acting like a little kid.

  Julia frowned as she moved over to the window and looked out. The yard was dark, and fitful gusts of wind rattled the panes. She hugged herself and shivered.

  “I suggest you get a move on,” Julia said, turning from the window to face her. “You’ve got school tomorrow, and I don’t want you complaining that you can’t find anything to wear in the morning.”

  Bri nodded, got up from the bed, and bent down to open the first box within reach. It happened to be clothes, and she started loading up her bureau drawers while her mother leaned back against the windowsill and took a break.

  Bri was torn, wondering if she should tell her mother about the girl she had ... well, met wasn’t exactly the correct word — had seen on the beach … and now outside the house. It bothered her and gave her the creeps that the girl had followed her home and waited outside … and maybe was still out there, watching her. She jammed her clothes into the bureau drawers, wishing, if nothing else, to lose her concerns in activity; but the thought of that girl out there in the dark and cold gnawed at her mind. She wished her mother would leave the room so she could peek outside and see if she was still there.

  “So are you excited about starting school tomorrow?” Julia asked.

  Thank you, God, Bri thought when her mother pushed herself away from the window and started pacing the room. Now if I can only think of some reason to go over by the window …

  Trying to look totally casual, Bri shrugged as she took out several sweaters and refolded them before putting them on the top shelf of the closet. “I dunno,” she said. “I mean, I’d rather not —”

  “We’ve already had that discussion,” Julia said coolly.

  “I know,” Bri said, whining. She took one of her sweaters and unfolded it, holding it up for her mother to see. “All I’ve got is this old stuff. I don’t have anything new.”

  “That sweater’s just fine,” Julia said. “Besides, no one at the school is going to know it isn’t new.”

  “I will,” Bri said, her eyes flicking angrily from her mother to the sweater. Then, with a sigh, she folded it again and put it on top of the pile in her closet. “At least I won’t be as out of style as that girl I saw. She was dressed like someone out of the sixties or something.”

  “What girl?” Julia asked.

  “Oh, just someone I saw … downtown,” Bri answered as she sat on the floor and opened another box. This one was filled with her stuffed animals. She picked up a blue elephant she had named Oscar and, stroking her chin, said, “Hmm, I think I’ll keep him on the windowsill for now. “

  Her heart skipped a beat when she crossed the floor to the window. A floorboard creaked underfoot, and she made a startled little squeak, but her mother seemed not to notice. She stroked Oscar’s blue fuzzed head, remembering Bungle before placing him on the windowsill. As casually as possible, she let her gaze drift outside.

  Her heart almost stopped when she saw her.

  The girl was still out there, standing in the shadows on the opposite side of the street. And she was looking up at the house. Her gaze was directed up at Bri’s window. The faint wash of the far-off streetlight gave her upturned face a gauzy glow, and Bri could see that she was smiling.

  Behind her, her mother was saying something about school, but Bri’s mind shut her out as she stared down at the girl. Their eyes met. There was no doubt. A cold jolt hit her in the stomach, and her hand was trembling as she let go of Oscar.

  What is she doing? Bri thought. What does she want?

  Steeling herself, Bri forced a smile as she raised her hand and waved to the girl outside. She could see her own reflection in the glass, and the thin hollowness of her smile unnerved her. But then her smile widened into a genuine grin when the girl raised her hand and waved back.

  “Mom ... come here,” Bri said, quickly turning away from the window. “There’s someone outside.”

  Julia came over to the window, but when they both looked outside, the girl was gone. Bri had almost expected it.

  “She was there just a second ago,” Bri said, looking at her mother’s face close to hers.

  “Who was?” Julia asked.

  Bri was silent for a moment as she weighed her words. There was still something in the back of her mind that told her not to say anything more about this to her mother, to let it go. But one thing Bri had always prided herself on was her honesty with her mother — especially after she and her father divorced eight years ago. Holding back on her would be like lying.

  “This afternoon, when I went for a walk,” she said softly, letting her gaze, drift toward the window. “Down on the beach … I saw a girl.

  It didn’t take long to give her mother the details because not much had happened. She realized, as she spoke, that she might be blowing this situation way out of proportion. It all boiled down to the fact that she had seen someone who, basically, had ignored her.

  So what was the problem?

  The problem was, the mystery girl had followed her home and was hanging around outside the house, and Bri had no idea who she was or what kind of person she was.

  Maybe she was a nut case ... a girl without frien
ds who was — well, weird.

  Maybe she was into, like, kinky sex or something. Her mother had told her about those kinds of girls.

  Or maybe she had a rotten home life, had a drunk for a mother and had been sexually abused by her father. Her mother had told her about those kinds of situations, too.

  Maybe this girl hung around other people’s houses because they had the “normal” home life she didn’t have.

  Or maybe she didn’t have a home. What if both her parents had died, and she lived alone … say down by the wharf in one of the fishing shacks?

  Maybe, with winter coming, she was looking for a warm house to be invited into.

  Or maybe, as Bri had thought before, this girl was just shy and wanted to meet her but didn’t know how to go about it.

  There were far too many possibilities to consider, Bri realized, but she knew one thing — her thoughts would stay mere speculations as long as she never got to meet the girl and talk with her.

  “You’re sure there was someone out there? I don’t see anyone.” Julia was unable to hide the tremor in her voice. She didn’t relish the idea of anyone from the island playing “Peeping Tom” with them.

  Realizing she had to calm her mother, Bri shook her head as though confused.

  “I don’t know for sure,” she said. “Maybe it was the shadows from the streetlight.” She knew it hadn’t been that, but she didn’t want her mother getting all worked up about it.

  “I’m probably imagining things,” Bri said.

  “Well, you either saw her or you didn’t,” Julia said harshly. She was exhausted from the day of steady work, and her nerves were frayed.

  “I know she was out at the beach,” Bri said, not wanting her mother to question her further. “But … it was probably the shadow of a tree branch or something. There’s no one out there now.”

  “I’m going to have your father go out and have a look around,” Julia said as she started toward the door. Before she left the room, she turned to Bri and, pointing her forefinger at her, said, “And you get to work, young lady. No more gazing out the window. I want all this stuff put away pronto.”

  VI

  Frank went to bed earlier than usual, saying that his day out “visiting” had worn him out, but Julia, John, and Bri worked long into the night, trying to blend their things in with what was already in the house. They realized early on that much of their stuff would probably end up in the garage, but there were several personal things — paintings and books and pieces of furniture — that they couldn’t abandon. They wanted to wait to talk to Frank about some of his things of his that might end up in storage.

  “I can’t wait to hit some real sheets on our own bed,” Julia said, glancing at her wristwatch and seeing that it was almost midnight. “We can’t get it all done in one night anyway, so why don’t we all get to bed. Bri, you’ve got to be in the principal’s office at seven-thirty in the morning.”

  Bri grunted and started to protest one last time but then fell silent. After kissing her mother and father good night, she went up the stairs, put on her flannel nightie, brushed her teeth, and slid into bed.

  But in the darkened room, listening to her parents as they washed up, she was as tired as she would have been after drinking ten cups of coffee. She clasped her hands behind her head and lay there, staring at the ceiling, her eyes so wide open they felt as if they were glued that way.

  First she told herself she was waiting for her parents to stop clunking around in the bathroom, running the shower, using the blow dryer, flushing the toilet. But soon enough, they were quietly settled in bed, and the house fell silent. Still, sleep didn’t come. She told herself she was tense and excited about starting school in the morning, but she knew the truth — she was waiting to hear the low, throbbing strains of organ music echoing in the walls ... or the soft thump of a rat scurrying around inside the wall.

  At last, though, she admitted what she had known all along: she was wondering how long that girl had waited outside the house in the dark, looking up at her darkened bedroom window.

  What if she’s still out there?

  She glanced at the dial of her alarm clock.

  Twelve forty-five.

  God, I’ll never get up on time tomorrow if I don’t get to sleep.

  Her fresh-washed sheets and pillowcase crinkled under her weight as she shifted onto her right side. Her eyes fixed on the window and the dark silhouette of Oscar, the elephant, on the sill. Beyond the glass, the night sky vibrated with stars, bone-white pinpricks in the black. The thin shadow of a tree branch swaying in the breeze caught the edge of her windowsill, and even though she knew it didn’t look anything like a hand or claw, it unnerved her because she couldn’t help but imagine there was something outside on the window ledge, trying to pry open her window … clawing its way to her.

  She wanted to say the hell with it and roll over onto her other side.

  Don’t even look at the window!

  Don’t even think about that girl, whoever she is!

  Get some sleep.

  She wouldn’t make much of a first impression at school if, on top of everything else, she fell asleep in class. But trying to fall asleep, she had found, was like trying not to think about something — the harder you tried, the more you failed.

  With a deep sigh, she threw her covers off and swung her feet to the floor. A tingling chill went up the back of her legs, but she barely noticed it as she moved slowly toward the window.

  Will she still be out there? she wondered.

  No … That’s impossible …How could she be?

  Bri held her breath until her lungs felt like they would burst as she looked out into the thick darkness. Beyond the harsh, dark line of the horizon, the starry sky looked like powdered velvet. The street was bathed in the soft glow of the streetlight, but everything was quiet and calm.

  The girl definitely wasn’t out there anymore.

  “At least I can’t see you,” Bri whispered. Her face was close to the window, and her breath fogged the glass. Her view of the road blurred, and she could almost imagine the girl was still there, hiding in the tree’s shadow.

  Crouching by the window, Bri waited, taking shallow breaths and trying not to blink. She didn’t want to miss the girl if she was there.

  What began as a suspicion soon became a conviction. She was still out there ... she was hiding in the dark, looking up at her window. Bri could sense her sad, lonely eyes reaching up out of the darkness … touching her.

  With a sudden sharp intake of breath, Bri stood up and spun away from the window. Fishing around in the dark, she found her slippers and slipped them on. Then she raced down the stairs, taking them two at a time, her hand sliding on the railing, guiding her in the dark. She dashed to the living room door and flung it wide open. The chilly night air slammed into her like a shock wave.

  Once outside, Bri didn’t hesitate. She ran around the side of the house to Oak Street, her eyes trying to slice into the darkness. Both the streetlight’s glow and the shadows it cast seemed more intense than usual. Bri ran to the edge of the lawn and then drew to a stop, panting as she stared across the road.

  “Hello,” she called, her voice no more than a raw whisper. “Are you out there?”

  A chilling breeze circled around her ankles like tiny hands, clutching her. Bri felt suddenly very alone and exposed. The one girl wasn’t the only one watching her. A multitude of eyes surrounded her and were staring at her, unseen from the darkness ... eyes that were cold and hungry.

  A stronger shiver ran through Bri’s body, and her voice sounded fainter as she called out again,

  “Hey … Are you there?”

  Her only answer was a fitful breeze, hissing like a snake in the dried grass and weeds of the lawn. Her vision blurred as tears welled up in her eyes, and her throat was suddenly parched.

  “I know you’re there,” she said, her voice weaker as she scanned the solid wall of the night. “I just want to talk.” Her voice faded e
ven more. “I just want to be friends.”

  The night remained as silent and unyielding as it was dark. No soft chirring of insects in the grass … no gentle call of night birds ... only the wind sighing.

  Her tears carved warm tracks down her cheeks. Bri was nearly overwhelmed with loneliness, but she wasn’t sure who she felt it for more — herself or the girl.

  Maybe both of us because I know … I can feel that you’ve lost something like I have … I’ve lost my friends and my home in Vermont, and my best friend, Bungle …but what have you lost? … Why are you so lonely?

  She turned and headed back to the house, convinced more than ever with every step that, somewhere in the darkness, cold eyes were fixed on her like magnets. She mounted the steps and went back inside, grateful, at least, to be out of the cold wind. Leaning her back against the door, she shut and locked it.

  “See anyone?”

  The voice coming out of the darkness startled her. She let out a loud squeal, and it took a moment or two for her eyes to adjust to the darkness inside the house. The she saw the silhouette of her granddad in his wheelchair, perched in the doorway of his bedroom at the end of the hall.

  “I — umm,” she started to say, but surprise held its fingers around her throat, and words couldn’t form.

  “Sometimes, you know,” he said, his voice sounding distant, “I get the feeling, too, that there’s someone out there.” He started rolling down the hallway toward her. As he got closer, she caught a glimpse of his face — his eyes were half open, looking blankly up at the ceiling.

  “It’s like ... I dunno,” he said. “Sometimes I can almost touch it ... and then it’s … gone.”

  He shook his head as though to clear it, but when he looked at her again, his face registered surprise, as though he had just noticed her standing there.

  “What’re you doing up at this hour?” he asked sharply.

  Unable to speak, Bri simply shrugged.

  “I wasn’t able to sleep, either.”

  Frank snapped on the hall light. The sudden flood of light was so bright it hurt Bri’s eyes. Shielding her eyes, she squinted as she looked at him watching her. She was suddenly self-conscious, standing there in her nightie and slippers. Dried leaves and twigs clung to the hem of her nightie.