Bellamy and the Brute

by Alicia Michaels

  “And this is Emma,” he continued, referring to the little girl standing beside him. “She’s five.”

  Emma was a little cutie, still holding a bit of chubbiness in her cheeks, with the same green eyes as her brother, and thick, dark brown hair arranged in two neat French braids.

  “Guys, this is Bellamy,” Ezra told them. “She’s just been hired to babysit you over the summer.”

  “It’s nice to meet you,” Max said, extending his hand to me with the politeness of a kid whose parents had drilled manners into him.

  “Nice to meet you, too,” I replied, trying not to smirk at his solemn expression. Crouching to look Emma in the eye, I extended my hand to her. “Hello, sweetheart.”

  Hanging one finger in her mouth, the little girl eyed me warily. “Are you nice?”

  Max nudged his sister in the ribs, and Ezra laughed.

  I gave her a smile. “I’m nice as long as there are cookies. Would you happen to have any cookies?”

  Gazing at Ezra for a moment, she looked back at me, and then gestured for me to come closer. I leaned in, and she cupped a hand to my ear, pressing her mouth against it.

  “There are some in the kitchen, but Hilda doesn’t let us have them much. She never lets us have anything sweet.”

  She stepped back, giving me a wide-eyed look that told me she didn’t trust anyone who would withhold cookies.

  “I’ll see what I can do about that,” I told her.

  She grinned, revealing a missing front tooth. “I like you.”

  Max seemed a little less sure, but continued looking on in silence.

  “We’ll let you two get back to your painting,” Ezra told them. “You’ll see Bellamy again next Monday morning.”

  With silent nods, the kids went back to their tasks, Emma giving me a little wave. Ezra guided me from the room, leaving the door hanging open.

  “Don’t let them fool you,” he warned. “They aren’t always so quiet or well-behaved.”

  With a laugh, I followed him further down the hall. “Oh, I know all about that. My little cousins would have people thinking they were perfect angels, but turn your back for two seconds and they turned into sneaky little imps.”

  “I find it encouraging that you’re well prepared to handle them,” he said.

  We returned to the landing where another set of steps stretched up to the third floor, and then back down to the first.

  “I believe that’s everything,” he said, swiveling to face me. “Before you leave, I’ll give you a printout of the kids’ allergies, likes and dislikes, along with some emergency numbers you’ll need when I’m not around… which isn’t often. I am almost always in my office, and never too busy to assist you.”

  “Sounds great,” I replied. “Thank you so much for giving me the job. I really wasn’t expecting to be hired on the spot.”

  “To tell you the truth, Bellamy, we were starting to get desperate,” he said. “I’m certain you know how people gossip about this house and the family. Most of Wellhollow Springs’ residents are afraid to step foot within a hundred yards of this place.”

  Forcing a smile, I felt ashamed for the path of my thoughts the night before. Ezra seemed nice, and the kids were cute and sweet. The house was a bit intimidating, but was still a home where a family lived. I breathed a sigh of relief to realize it wasn’t as scary as I’d thought it would be.

  “Oh, one last thing,” Ezra added. “The Baldwins want you to feel comfortable here. Use the library, the pool… help yourself to anything in the kitchen. Enjoy being here with the kids. They only have one request, and it’s a simple one. Please refrain from going up to the third floor of the house. You may accompany the children anywhere else, but the third floor is off limits. Is that understood?”

  His question gave me pause as I glanced toward the staircase stretching up to the third floor.

  Tate Baldwin.

  I hadn’t thought about him since arriving, but it suddenly dawned on me that I hadn’t been introduced to him. If the third floor was where he lived, then it seemed unlikely I ever would. Apparently, there was some truth to the rumors.

  “Bellamy?”

  Flinching, I realized I had been caught woolgathering. “Yes,” I said quickly. “No problem… I’ll stay away from the third floor.”

  He watched me in solemn silence for a moment, and then nodded as if coming to a decision. “Good. I think you’ll do well here. Meet me back downstairs, please.”

  Leaving me on the landing, he began rolling back toward the service elevator. With one last glance back at the stairs, I paused, a foot poised on the step leading down. Frowning, I noticed a trail of what appeared to be rose petals on the stairs. Up and up they went, disappearing over the top stair—strewn about as if someone had dropped them as they ascended.

  “Hey, Ezra?” I called out.

  He paused within the elevator. “Yes?”

  I pointed up and wrinkled my brow. “What’s with the rose petals?”

  He frowned and followed my gaze up the stairs. Looking back at me, he raised one eyebrow.

  “What rose petals?”

  “So, how was the interview?” Dad asked that night as we drove home from the bookstore.

  I’d driven the car back there and helped him finish out the day. After closing, we’d made a quick stop by Glassman’s Deli to pick up dinner. We could barely afford to eat out, but Dad was a lousy cook, and letting me make meals every night made him feel guilty. Apparently, feeding him was another one of those things that got in the way of what remained of my childhood.

  “They offered me the job,” I replied, reaching down in the takeout bag to snag a cherry tomato out of the container holding my salad. “Or, I should say, Ezra Wu offered me the job. He’s Mr. Baldwin’s assistant, and I have a feeling I’ll be dealing with him more than the actual parents.”

  “Must be nice,” he mumbled, chuckling under his breath. “What was the house like? Did you take pictures?”

  I laughed. “That would have been tacky.”

  Shrugging one shoulder, he nodded. “You’re right. Mr. Wu won’t be around all day Monday, will he? Just a few shots of the inside.”

  “Dad,” I exclaimed, my shoulders shaking as I tried to hold in a laugh. “The house is beautiful inside… a bit cold, though. Like it was designed for show instead of for a family to live in.”

  “Give me worn-out furniture and stained rugs over shiny floors and ugly modern art any day,” he said.

  “Exactly,” I agreed. “But Mr. Wu was nice, and the kids seem great. There’s a cook, so I won’t have to worry about feeding them. Should be a pretty easy gig.”

  Slowing and then halting at a stop sign, he turned to glance at me. “But?”

  I sighed. “How do you always manage to do that?”

  He gave me his most innocent expression. “What? Figure out when you aren’t telling me the whole story? I learned a thing or two from your mother. Spill it.”

  Turning to glance out the window, I watched our neighborhood come into view, the neat rows of houses blurring by. “What do you know about Tate Baldwin?”

  Keeping one hand on the wheel, he reached up and ran a hand over his hair. “Not much. No one really talks about him anymore, but a few years ago, he was being seduced by a lot of top schools—football could have opened a lot of doors for him.”

  “Yeah, I remember,” I told him. “I was only a freshman the year he disappeared, but I do remember seeing him around school. What happened to him?”

  “He got sick, I think,” Dad replied as he turned down our street. “There was talk about cancer or some kind of terminal disease. Whatever the case, his parents shut him away in that house and no one has seen him since.”

  He grew silent as he pulled into our driveway. Throwing the car in park, he turned to face me again. “You didn’t happen to meet him today, did you?”

  I shook my head. “No, and I doubt I will. That was the only thing about the house that was strange. Mr. Wu said
I could go anywhere else in the house, but I couldn’t go up the staircase to the third floor. It seemed obvious to me that they’re hiding him up there.”

  Taking the deli bags from me, he left the car. I followed, trailing him up to the front door, and then moving past him to unlock it.

  “If you’re going to work for the Baldwins, it’s best you obey their wishes,” he said while we spread our dinner containers out on the table. “There are a lot of rumors about Tate, but you can’t always believe everything you hear. You’re there to watch their children, not go snooping around in their business.”

  Given the things people said about my father behind his back, I knew he was right. Still, I couldn’t help but think about those rose petals trailing up that staircase, and the bizarre rule concerning the third floor. If Tate didn’t want to be seen, I could understand his bedroom being off limits. An entire floor in a four-story mansion seemed a bit extreme.

  “You’re right,” I said out loud. “I’m sure I’ll be too busy with the kids to even think about it.”

  The final week of my junior year sped by in a blur of final exams that gave me a splitting headache at the end of each day. By Friday, I was glad it had ended, looking forward to a break from the whispers, stares, and corny jokes about my dad. I left Wellhollow Springs High behind without looking back, done with it until August. The weekend following my last day was pretty uneventful—with me delving into a couple of books, while Dad worked on some appliances he’d been hired to fix. It made me happy to see that his ad had begun to pay off. It gave me hope that appliance repair might take his mind off ghosts and their causes of death.

  On my first day of work for the Baldwins, I arrived at eight o’clock sharp. Ezra was there to greet me, waiting at the entrance.

  “Good morning, Bellamy,” he said with a warm smile. “You’re right on time. The children are in the kitchen eating breakfast, and you’ll find that’s usually where they’ll be when you arrive in the mornings. I’ll leave you to your job, but I wanted to give you this first.”

  He extended an envelope to me. Opening it, I found a slip of paper inside with four numbers written on it.

  “It’s the code for the gate,” he explained. “So you don’t have to buzz me every morning to be let in. Simply put it into the keypad, and the gates will open for you.”

  Smiling, I folded the slip and put it back in its envelope, then tucked it into the bag slung over my shoulder. “Thank you.”

  “You’re very welcome,” he replied. “Remember, I’m right here in my office if you need me.”

  “I think we’ll be fine,” I assured him.

  With a nod, Ezra drove his chair past me, disappearing into his open office door. Continuing on to the kitchen, I found the kids seated at the table with plates of scrambled eggs and toast in front of them.

  “Good morning, Miss Bellamy,” Hilda said from the other side of the kitchen where she stood pouring a cup of coffee. “Would you like a cup?”

  Despite offering me the coffee, she didn’t look happy about it. She couldn’t be older than forty-five or so, but her face had deep lines, as if she frowned a lot and had lived a hard life. At the moment, she looked like the last thing she wanted was to pour me a cup of coffee.

  I forced a smile and shook my head, even though the coffee smelled great. “No, thank you. I’m certain you’ve had a busy morning. I’ll clean up in here if you want a break.”

  Hilda scowled at me, catching and holding my gaze as if trying to figure out if I was telling the world’s most un-funny joke.

  “I’ll handle it,” she snapped, dismissing me with a swivel of her head. “Lunch is at noon.”

  Wincing, I turned my attention back to the kids—who were the reason I was here anyway. “Hey, guys. What do you want to do today?”

  “Dolls!” Emma declared, bouncing up and down in her seat, mouth full of scrambled egg. “Do you like dolls, Bellamy?”

  I hadn’t played with a doll since I was five and had learned to read, but I nodded anyway. “I love dolls. What about you, Max? Anything you’d like to do today?”

  Glancing at me with a sullen expression, he shrugged. “Whatever,” he mumbled before lowering his head back over his plate.

  Frowning, I studied him closely. The polite little boy I’d met last week seemed to still be there. Thinking back over our first encounter, I realized he hadn’t spoken much.

  “Max, I know we didn’t get much time to know each other last week,” I ventured. “But I’m going to be here all summer, so maybe it would be good if we could try to be friends. Having a babysitter can suck, but I’ll try to be a good one.”

  He continued eating, head lowered, ignoring me completely. I tried not to feel annoyed with the kid. He didn’t really know me, and I had no idea who might have babysat them before me. Maybe he’d had a bad experience. It was up to me to prove myself.

  “Max,” Emma hissed, trying to whisper and failing. “Remember what Mommy said about manners.”

  With a sigh, Max finally looked up at me. “I would like to read today, if that’s all right with you.”

  Noticing the book settled in his lap, I smiled. “What are you reading?”

  “The Neverending Story,” he replied. “It was on the summer reading list my teacher gave me.”

  “That’s one of my favorite books,” I told him, which was true.

  He creased his brow, giving me a wary glance. “It is?”

  I nodded. “Oh, yeah. I’ve read it at least ten times. Let me know how you enjoy it when you’re done.”

  Nodding silently, he went back to his breakfast. Across from him, Emma continued shoveling eggs into her mouth and chattering excitedly, telling me about all the different kinds of dolls she owned. After the kids finished eating and cleared their plates from the table, we made our way upstairs to the playroom. Max curled up on a beanbag chair on one side of the room with his book, while Emma took my hand and dragged me toward a massive dollhouse that stood almost as tall as I did. Opening a nearby trunk, she revealed a plethora of dolls, as well as more clothes, shoes, and accessories than I’d ever owned in my life.

  “This is Tiffany,” Emma declared, showing me a doll with dark brown hair wearing a lab coat over her clothes. “I like her the best because she looks like me.”

  “She’s very pretty,” I said. “Just like you.”

  Frowning down into her trunk, Emma began rifling around again. “I’m sorry… I don’t have any dolls that look like you.”

  Glancing down at the array of straight haired, mostly blonde dolls, I shrugged. “That’s okay. I like… this one!”

  Picking up one of the blonde ones wearing an evening gown and tiara, I held her up. “Oh, no, Dr. Tiffany! I sprained my ankle trying to walk in my seven-inch heels and ten-pound red carpet gown. Help!”

  Emma giggled, and then Tiffany leapt into action, using a variety of doctor accessories to treat my doll’s sprain. We played that way for hours until lunch, with Max content to sit in his corner and read.

  As we sat in the kitchen eating, I glanced over and noticed that he’d gotten almost halfway through the book already.

  “Wow, you read fast,” I said, trying my hardest to find an excuse for drawing him into conversation.

  Following my glance to the book, he shrugged.

  “Do you like the story?” I prodded.

  He shrugged again. “It’s okay. Bastian’s kind of an idiot.”

  I laughed, glad to get something out of him. “Yeah, he’s a wimp in the beginning, but he comes around.”

  The rest of the day passed by quickly, with the kids laying down for an hour nap, then convincing me to let them watch TV for a bit. No one had told me any restrictions on their television watching, so I allowed it, pulling out a book of my own to get some reading in while they indulged in cartoons. Hilda brought them a snack a few hours after lunch, and before I knew it, my time was up.

  If my first day were any indication, this job was going to be as much of a
breeze as I’d first thought. I hadn’t even thought about the third floor or rose petals all day. Now, if only I could get Max to stop giving me the cold shoulder.

  By day three, Max had warmed up to me a bit. When I entered the kitchen to find them eating waffles, he actually said ‘hello’. When I asked them what they wanted to do for the day, Emma hardly got a chance to open her mouth before Max spoke up.

  “How about a game of hide-and-seek?” he suggested.

  We’d spent most of the first two days in their playroom—which was massive and filled with toys, books, and art supplies—but it could be a nice change of pace. In a house their size, the game should be even more interesting.

  “Sounds like fun,” I replied. “Let’s do it.”

  The first couple of rounds, we played outside, with the large backyard offering plenty of hiding places. On the third round, it was my turn to count, so I leaned against a big storage shed, closed my eyes, and counted to ten as slowly as I could. When I opened my eyes, I spotted Emma almost instantly, crouching beneath the porch swing. Still, I took my time, making a big deal out of looking for her, even checking beneath a potted plant, before pretending to be surprised to find her beneath the swing.

  “Okay, now I have to find Max,” I told her after helping her to her feet.

  Emma followed me around the backyard while I searched, even looking up a few trees. After some time, I realized the sliding door leading back into the kitchen stood open. Going back in the house, I swept the living room and kitchen, then three bathrooms, and even Ezra’s office.

  “Everything okay?” Ezra asked, glancing up from his computer.

  “Um…” I murmured sheepishly. “Just a game of hide-and-seek. Max wouldn’t happen to be in here, would he?”

  He raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Wouldn’t that defeat the purpose of the game if I told you?”

  I laughed, relieved he didn’t think of me as an idiot for intruding while he worked. “True.”

  As I backed away, he called out, “I might have heard little footsteps heading upstairs.”

  “Thanks!” I called over my shoulder, already on my way there.