Silverwood
Page 24
Kate looks Henry in the eyes. “Henry, we did it. We sent back the Tromindox that had come here. And we’ve got what we need to protect ourselves. I promise. Okay?”
Across the street, Daniel heaves two huge books onto the table at the back of the bookstore. It’s strange, how The Book of the Future dried out so fast. It must be made out of some kind of special paper. Bertrand waits until the dust clears and then hops up onto his perch.
“There you go, cat,” Daniel says.
“I didn’t know we had a cat,” Mr. Brush says, placing some paperbacks into a low shelf.
“I didn’t either,” Daniel says. “That’s Bertrand. He’s the keeper of the books, apparently.”
“And you, my boy, are the keeper of the cat,” Mr. Brush says. His face crinkles around into a warm smile behind his glasses. Definitely not the sour sort on the photo behind the cash register. He’s got a smaller bandage on his forehead, now.
“Tell me something,” Daniel says.
“What?” Mr. Brush says.
“Why the list? The names and dates? And the portal?”
“Oh, I learned that trick from ol’ Posey,” says Mr. Brush. “‘Confront and document’, that’s what she always says. So, I did. I didn’t know what the information would mean, but I wrote it down anyway. Sometimes you just go on instinct, you know.”
“And the portal?”
“You’ll have to ask Mrs. Woods about that one,” Mr. Brush says. “You know, when they get her put back together again. I think Rose jumping around like that, becoming a kid again, kind of scrambled Eleanor. A bit of a time and space traffic jam in this small town, I guess.”
“Speaking of instincts, young man, what are your instincts with regard to that young lady over there?”
Daniel looks up at his uncle, who is peering out the front window across the street at the pile of rubble that was once the hotel.
“I don’t have any instincts. This isn’t a nature special. Plus, she’s only fourteen,” Daniel says.
“Well, she clearly likes you. You be kind to her. She’s got a lot of responsibility, that girl, for the Silverwood clan. Be a good friend to her. And be a good friend to her brother. That family’s got a lot on their shoulders,” Mr. Brush says.
“Okay, I’ll be a good friend,” Daniel says, hoping this topic was over.
Earl and Posey walk by, like a couple on an evening stroll in the summer. No camera around Posey’s wrist, just her hand in Earl’s. Earl beams at her as she talks to him. Back toward the Brokeneck Diner they go.
RECORDING
Hi Dad, it’s Helen.
I know, this is dumb because you’re sitting fifty feet from me, but it’s that old habits dying hard thing. This is still the best way I know to sort out my thoughts, talking to you.
I’m sitting on the foundation of the Brokeneck Hotel, so obviously there’s no roof to hang out on. I carved my circle-spiral shape into the stone anyway.
You can still see the various rooms of the hotel outlined on the ground. Where the fireplace used to be, the front room, the kitchen, there’s part of the stairs.
Henry is asleep next to me. How he can fall asleep on a pile of rocks is anybody’s guess. I suppose it’s a skill he’s picked up on the road, the ability to sleep anywhere. He certainly has had to adapt to just about everything.
You and mom are holding hands in your lawn chairs. You’ve been talking for hours. Sometimes you laugh. I can look at you both whenever I want, and neither one of you is on a screen.
I’ve always told Henry that someday we will have a real home. That we will be from somewhere. I know that a pile of rocks in Brokeneck, California is probably not that place.
Now I realize that maybe I don’t need to be from a place.
I’m Helen Silverwood, and I’m from the Silverwood clan.
END RECORDING
Silverwood Book 2
COMING MARCH 2016
As Helen takes her place in the Silverwood Clan, she finds that her family’s history—and future—have become tangled in a complex web of cause and effect. Now the Silverwoods must contend with the ramifications of a singular moment deep in the past and unravel the mystery of a labyrinth hiding ancient secrets. Why do doors lock and unlock seemingly at random? Will Henry’s membership in the Guild be a blessing or a curse? Can Helen—and the clan—keep time from falling apart?
The Author
Betsy Streeter grew up on a steady diet of Star Trek, The Muppet Show, Atari, and musical rehearsals in her family’s living room. Her habits of making up stories and drawing and painting on everything within reach eventually led to degrees in art and communication from Stanford University. She has worked in film and video production, design, and video games, and is president of a community theatre. She and her family are voracious consumers of books, music, movies, art, action figures, and musical instruments, resulting in inadequate storage space. Betsy has published single-panel cartoons, comics, art, and short fiction in paper, digital, graffiti, and tattoo form. She lives in Northern California with her husband, son, daughter, two peculiar and disruptive cats, and a mellow but hungry tarantula.