The Door to January

by Gillian French

  Teddy thought. “Tuberculosis, maybe? That was pretty common back then.”

  “And he spent most of World War Two locked up in a mental hospital. The war wound, his army background? All bull. Lies to make him look good. The inside of his head was . . .” She bit her lip. “Worse than blackness.”

  “He really murdered a girl in New Ashford, didn’t he?”

  “And then moved to Bernier to hide. End of the Earth, right?” Natalie shut her eyes. “He was making plans. Something bad.”

  “Nat.” Teddy touched her shoulder. “All this stuff is over and done with. Remember.”

  When she didn’t look at him, Teddy reached out and stopped her motions with the doll.

  “I just don’t get why this is happening to me. Why the house wants me, you know? I’ve never experienced anything like this. I’m about as sensitive as a rock. I’m probably the last person on the planet who can help.”

  “So. We get in even deeper.” Teddy’s expression was grim. “And hope we can get ourselves out again.”

  During supper, the house phone rang.

  “Got it,” Natalie said. “It’s probably Mom and Dad.”

  She picked up the extension in the living room, perching on the arm of the La-Z-Boy. “Hi.” She said it again as the silence stretched on.

  There was static on the line, and for a surreal moment, Natalie thought it was the house calling. She sat up, eyes wide.

  Then there was a small sigh, like someone swallowing their intention to speak. The connection broke.

  Natalie hung up. The phone rang again immediately.

  “Who is this?” she said sharply.

  “Deb Payson. Who’s this?”

  “Oh! Mom, it’s me.”

  “Nat? Why are you answering the phone like that?”

  “Somebody called a second ago and wouldn’t say anything.” Years of dodging her parents’ concern made her backpedal. “Probably a telemarketer. I think I could hear the call center in the background.”

  “Oh.” Mom paused, sounding casual as she said, “So, how’re things?”

  Natalie gave the abridged, PG version. Yes, tips were better, and no, she wasn’t homesick.

  “What do you think about coming home for a visit this weekend, anyway?” Mom said.

  “Weekends are crazy at the Grill.” Natalie’s mind raced with the repercussions of missing two whole days at the house. “I can’t abandon Cilla.”

  “She won’t give you one weekend off?”

  “I’m not saying she won’t; I’m saying I’d feel bad. I’m one of the only full-timers.” Sweat prickled along her upper lip. “They need me.”

  Natalie could almost hear the sound of her mother’s mouth shutting on the other end.

  “You know what? You’re being responsible, and here I am, ragging on you. Sorry, hon. Let me talk to Cill.”

  “Why?”

  “So we can say bad things about you. Put her on, please.”

  After she handed the phone off to her aunt, Natalie went back into the dining room. Teddy hadn’t eaten much, mostly pushed the food around on his plate. As Natalie sat back down, she said, “Oh, yeah. Tomorrow night after work, we’re going to some party at Passamaquoddy with Delia. I forgot to tell you.”

  His eyes grew huge behind his glasses. “You said I’d go? You didn’t even ask me.”

  “So what? You got a date?”

  It was a joke, but Teddy groaned and scrubbed his face hard before standing up.

  “What?” Natalie watched him carry his plate into the kitchen. “What’s the big deal?”

  “I can’t go. Tell her I’m sick. Actually—tell her I’m dead.”

  His footsteps pounded upstairs. A moment later, his bedroom door slammed.

  Natalie ran through the dream tapestry, following a trail of footprints on a January day she knew too well. These were her Bernier woods, hers and Teddy’s.

  Down Pemaquid Road she went, to the big chestnut tree on the corner. The woods were still, but the girls whispered all around her, Raisa’s voice now recognizable among them.

  Teddy was waiting by the frozen brook, chin tucked into his coat collar, reading My Brother Sam Is Dead and eating an apple, one leg dangling down. Natalie saw him exactly as he’d looked at twelve and a half years old, braces and all.

  Teddy saw her coming and smiled. That was when they heard the footsteps.

  Jason Morrow was in the lead, as always, smiling in genuine pleasure. He’d found their hiding place. Much later, at the hearing, they would learn that he’d been searching for it since fall.

  “Surprise,” he said, as his friends caught up to him. Grace’s tawny hair was yanked back in a braid, her face broad and high-cheekboned, her expression always placid, even when rabbit-punching somebody in the kidneys or chasing them between the shops downtown, throwing stones collected from the harbor beach.

  Peter McInnis was a little out of breath, being the stocky one. Reddish hair with nearly invisible brows and lashes, a smile that showed metal fillings. Peter had actually been friends with Natalie and Teddy in elementary school—Cilla had babysat for him—but when sixth grade and hormones hit, he’d drifted away.

  Lowell was tall and gawky-thin, with a smirking, watchful face; always the observer, good for holding people down while Jason punched. He didn’t seem to own a coat, instead wearing a flannel shirt all winter.

  Teddy stepped back, ready to bolt. Jason shook his head. “Uh-uh. Don’t. I’ve got something you and your girlfriend are gonna want to see.” His hand moved to something tucked into the waist of his jeans. “And you know what? You’re both gonna eat it before we’re done here.”

  Peter laughed. He was good at that.

  CHAPTER 14

  Delia peered out the windshield at the deer standing dead-center in the lake road, transfixed by the headlights of her ’97 Ford Aspire.

  “Should I honk at it?” She pressed the center of the steering wheel, and then punched it, to no avail. “Okay. Apparently the horn doesn’t work now, either. Awesome.”

  Natalie bit her lip, trying not to laugh. “Yell at it.”

  Delia leaned out the window. “Hey! Deer!”

  The deer’s head shot up, and it raced away into the trees, its tail a white flag before it evaporated into the darkness.

  “See, you don’t need all those modern features. A horn, a radio, an E-brake . . .” Natalie drove her elbow into her seat, hoping to jolt Teddy behind her. “Does she?”

  “Guess not.” His voice was quiet from the backseat. When faced with Delia’s excitement over the party—not that he’d spoken directly to her at any point, he’d been too busy staring at the ground—he hadn’t had the guts to refuse to come after all. Natalie could tell he was still mad at her, though.

  They reached a dirt parking area where Passamaquoddy Lake lay nestled among spruce and fir trees. The lot was jammed, and voices and laughter echoed everywhere; bonfires blazed along the shore. Natalie started getting nervous about introductions, then remembered what Delia was wearing and realized that no one would be looking at her, period.

  Delia wore a black mesh shirt and a poufy miniskirt that looked like it was made from strips of laminated magazine pages. And her boots, of course. Delia smiled and said hi to all the people they passed, but never lingered; she was a couple years older than most of the crowd and certainly seemed to have her own style.

  “Brews?” she said, grabbing a couple cans from a cooler on the picnic table.

  To Natalie’s surprise, Teddy took one, avoiding eye contact.

  “Nah,” Natalie said. “I’ll drive us home.”

  “Good woman. I wouldn’t want to total that baby of mine.” Delia gestured to the shore. “Pick a fire, any fire.”

  Natalie looked around. Some couples were playing chicken in the water, girls sitting on their
boyfriends’ shoulders, shrieking, trying to push each other over. The contender on the left was Grace Thibodeau. Grace was strong, and as Natalie watched, she seized her competitor by the upper arms and took her down, smiling faintly as Jason maneuvered them back, crowing over their victory.

  “As long as it’s very far away.”

  Delia followed her gaze. “Oh, damn.” She sighed, hands on her hips. “Well . . . it’s a free lake, right? Let’s go down to the other end.”

  As they started down the shore, Natalie glanced back. Lowell was here tonight, too. He sat in the sand, his forearm resting across the top of his bent knee, beer in hand. He’d been watching the couples battle in the water, but now he glanced at her. He lifted his beer in her direction. The ugliness of the scene at his house returned, and his small gesture shamed her. She nodded to him.

  “Nat.” Teddy caught the hem of her shirt, frowning at Lowell. “Come on.”

  Delia led them up a wooded embankment. The aromas of lake water and evergreen mingled as they continued down the path to a rocky clearing. “Hey, I remember this place,” Natalie said. “The rope swing, right?”

  “Best spot on the lake.” Delia sat, yanking off her boots. She wore a black string bikini beneath her clothes, and with no preamble, she grabbed the rope dangling from a tree branch and swung out over the water, dropping with a whoop and a splash.

  Natalie stripped down to her suit. “Come on,” she said, as Teddy sat sipping.

  “I didn’t wear my trunks.”

  “I told you we were going swimming.”

  He shrugged. “Oops. I’ll guard the drinks.”

  She put her hands on her hips. “I shouldn’t even let you drink that. What if Cilla finds out?”

  “I’ll chew gum on the way home. Happy?”

  “Whatever. I guess.” Natalie swung out on the rope so quickly that she didn’t have time to judge how long a drop it was; her surprised scream echoed across the lake.

  They swam and splashed, and finally Delia yelled up at the ledge, “Come on in! What are you waiting for?” Teddy called back his no-trunks excuse. “So what? You’re wearing shorts. Get in here or I’ll drag you. Your choice!”

  To Natalie’s amazement, he actually took off his glasses and his shirt—truly, he was the skinniest boy she’d ever known—and plunged in after them. Huh. Apparently, Delia’s opinion carried more weight. How long had Teddy been secretly crushing on her?

  Natalie made herself scarce as Teddy treaded water, loosening up and acting more like himself as Delia chatted away. Natalie swam around the rocky outcropping, floating on her back and looking up at the stars. She willed herself to enjoy the peace and not let thoughts of the house intrude, repeating a mental mantra: Don’t think about it, don’t ask “Why me,” enjoy the moment. After a while, she climbed back up the ledge and got dressed.

  She noticed somebody wandering around at the base of the path. Lowell. She considered letting him poke around in the dark for a while longer, but, remembering his salute with the beer bottle, said, “Looking for me?”

  “Yeah.”

  He didn’t come any closer, and she finally walked down to him, standing with her hands in her back pockets, her hair hanging wet and snarled down her back. The firelight cast flickering shadows on the shore around them.

  “I didn’t expect to see you here,” he finally said.

  Natalie shrugged. “It’s a free lake.”

  Lowell nodded, taking a long drink. He wasn’t acting drunk, but his gaze wandered, and she wondered how many he’d had, seeking her out like this after she’d accused him.

  “You didn’t go running to your aunt with your crazy stories, did you?” He didn’t give her a chance to answer. “Because I need the work at the Grill. It helps. Cilla’s really gone out of her way for me.”

  “I didn’t tell her anything.”

  He studied her face. A shadow of his usual humor returned. “Get any more surprises since you tried hanging the blame on me?”

  “Actually, no. Which makes you look even more suspicious.” His eyes widened and she held up her hands. “Kidding. I shouldn’t have . . .”—she fumbled—“It wasn’t fair of me to assume that it was you. I totally freaked out. I came into your house and . . .” She hesitated, and then said bluntly, “Sorry.”

  “I guess I’ve been accused of worse.” He rocked back on his heels. “So, this shell you found . . . you’re sure that it was the right type of ammo for a Browning Hi-Power?”

  “It was from a handgun, not a rifle. That was all I could tell.”

  “Do you still have it?”

  “Um, no. I threw it down a storm drain.”

  He blinked.

  “I didn’t want to scare my cousin or my aunt if I didn’t have to. If they knew somebody left that for me . . . well, it wouldn’t be good.”

  Lowell started to say something, thought better of it.

  “Natalie, like you said. This isn’t middle school anymore. If it were me—somebody leaves a shell on my doorstep?—I’d take it one of two ways: Either somebody’s messing with my head, or somebody wants to take a shot at me.”

  Down shore, somebody shouted his name.

  “There are some things you should know. Let’s have that talk.” He took a last swig from the bottle and tossed it into the sand as he turned. “I been meaning to get into the Grill anyway, take a look at the dishwasher. We’ll catch up then?”

  The same guy yelled Lowell’s name again. Natalie folded her arms. “Better hurry. Jason wants to leave.”

  “I don’t answer to him. We didn’t come together, anyway.”

  Effectively silenced, Natalie watched him walk away. When she turned around, she found Delia and Teddy standing up on the ledge, watching her.

  They came down to the shore.

  “Did I witness the impossible?” Delia said. “Did you two bury the hatchet?”

  Natalie glanced at Teddy. He stood there in his damp madras shirt and pleated shorts, his expression doubtful. “It’s not that simple,” she said.

  “Why not? What aren’t you guys telling me?”

  Teddy was the first to break the silence. “Better sit down. It’s a long story.”

  CHAPTER 15

  Natalie was the first to speak. “Have you ever heard about a kid named Peter McInnis?”

  Sitting cross-legged in the sand, Delia looked from Natalie to Teddy. “No-o-o. Should I have?”

  “It’s because she’s new.” Teddy’s ears turned red as Delia stared at him. He tossed some pebbles into the fire. “We were on the newspaper together this year,” he muttered.

  “We were?” Delia shook her head. “Why don’t I remember this?”

  “Seniors don’t usually remember sophomores.”

  “Oh.” Delia toyed with the pop-top of her beer can. “Well. I hope you didn’t think I was being a snob when I started working at the Grill. I would’ve said something, if I’d remembered you.”

  Teddy was doing his super-embarrassed Rain Man thing, rubbing his hand back and forth over the top of his head until his hair stood up, so Natalie said to Delia, “It must’ve been tough starting senior year at a new school.”

  She snorted. “Sucked. After my folks split up, my mom wanted to move back to this area. Her parents had a camp here when she was a kid, golden childhood memories, blah, blah, blah. Imagine my glee at the prospect of prom and graduation with total strangers.” She gestured to her ensemble. “Bernier isn’t exactly an ideal fit for me, anyway. Four-wheelin’ and going to Dysart’s at midnight.”

  Natalie smiled. “You can grow up in this town and still be on the outside. Teddy and I were. We had our little group of friends, but it boiled down to him being too smart, and me being . . . too weird, I guess.” Natalie hugged her knees. “Like I told you, Jason and Grace and Lowell used to give us crap. They let Peter hang around with
them, though. I think they respected him because he got into more trouble than they did. Even before he turned into a complete jerk, he was always getting sent to the principal’s office.”

  “Remember when he flushed Mrs. Boudreaux’s reading glasses and car keys down the toilet? Stole them right out of her desk during free period.” Teddy laughed bitterly.

  Natalie swirled a stick in the sand. “One day in January, Teddy and I were hanging out in the woods. Jason and the rest of them showed up, and Jason had this gun. He took it from his stepdad’s closet. The guy’s a vet, totally into weapons. Jason told everybody later that he only brought it along to show off. To scare us.”

  “Jesus,” Delia said. “That’s messed up.”

  “Yeah. Teddy and I ended up running into the woods.”

  A muscle worked in Teddy’s jaw. “I don’t care what Jason told the cops. He was planning on shooting somebody that day. It was just Peter’s bad luck.” Delia’s eyes widened as he went on: “I ran east, back toward town. When I heard the shot, I ran even harder.”

  “I, like a genius, went the wrong way, deeper into the woods,” said Natalie. “I heard the shot, too. It was so loud, sounded like it was right beside me.” She hated the hazy, unfocused feeling of this memory, as if it had been stretched out of all proportion, to the point of translucence. “I remember trees. I got so lost. The woods went on forever.”

  “She didn’t get home until dark,” Teddy told Delia. “The cops and a search party had been out in the woods for hours, looking for her. I remember I was sitting at your kitchen table when you showed up, Nat. One of the neighbors was staying with me while your folks and my mom went to look for you. You were so exhausted, you fell on your knees when you came through the door.”

  They were silent for a moment. Most of the partyers had gone home. Theirs was the only bonfire still burning.

  “So what about Peter?” Delia finally said.

  “The cops found him by a gully, dead. He’d been shot once in the stomach. The bullet hit a major artery. He bled out in minutes.” Natalie exhaled slowly. “When the cops went looking for Jason and the rest, they found them all at home, like nothing had happened. They all told different stories, too. Jason and Grace claimed Peter had taken the gun from Jason and chased after Teddy and me all on his own. They said they bailed after that, went home. Lowell said he got scared and left as soon as Teddy and I ran away.”