by Patti Larsen
“Okay,” she said.
That seemed to satisfy him. “Great! This is so cool, you coming in time for summer! It’s the best time on the Island.” He had the strangest accent. She almost missed some of his words because he talked so fast, but also because he ran them together in a bit of a slurred mumble. Chloe tried to keep up. “Not that you should be happy to be here. I mean, you should, but not for the reason you are.” He flushed to the roots of his very red hair. “Darn. Mom said not to talk about it. Sorry about your parents.”
Chloe didn’t have time to feel sad. She found herself liking Marsh in spite of herself.
“That’s okay,” she said. “It was a car accident. There wasn’t anything anybody could do.” She had said it so many times in the last little while that it was beginning to sound like the truth. That part of her that knew she was lying still tried to get her attention, but Chloe found it easier to push it away. “It was two weeks ago.” She found herself thinking it felt like a lot longer and yet as if it was that morning. “Aunt Larry was my dad’s sister. Since my gram is ill… well, nobody else could take me.”
“She’s awesome,” Marsh said with great enthusiasm. “Everybody loves her. Did you know she’s been, like, everywhere in the world? Yeah, of course you do, she’s your aunt. She tells the best stories about Africa and Asia and South America and helping people. I want to be a doctor like her and work in countries where people need help. Even the ladies at Women’s Institute like her, Mom said, even though she’s a CFA.”
“What’s a CFA?” Chloe asked.
“Come from away,” Marsh grinned. “It’s a thing, you know? If you’re not born here, you’re a CFA. You can never be an Islander, no matter what.”
Chloe tried not to be offended. Who wanted to join their stupid club anyway? Marsh rambled on, oblivious.
“She bought the old homestead from my dad,” he said. “About five years ago. We all get along great. Do dinners and stuff together all the time. Guess you’ll be coming, too, now.”
Chloe shrugged. Before she could answer, they heard shouting. She joined Marsh in peering over the edge of the cliff. A tall teenager with Marsh’s red hair was waving from below. He was shouting something, but Chloe couldn’t make him out. Marsh, however, got the message.
“Gotta go,” he said. “We’re not supposed to be in the water after dark. Nice to meet you!” He was shivering in his wet bathing suit. Chloe noticed the temperature change as the sun went down. He started out across the lawn to his house. Chloe wasn’t surprised when he turned back.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay,” she answered.
She watched him run and hop through the field, thinking how odd he was and wondering if everyone on Prince Edward Island was like him.
The mosquitoes were out now. At least their whining buzz was familiar. Chloe turned and headed back to the house. She decided to finish her circle of the place, walking past the massive door facing the water and around the corner. A huge garden planted among the row of maples filled the side yard. She followed the tidy stone path through the banks of well-tended flowers, passing a small neat shed painted the same as the house. Chloe stepped up on the fresh wooden deck, the one she had seen from the front, which filled in the crook of the fat “L” shape of the house. The moment she did, she felt a shiver run through her.
Someone was watching her. Chloe looked around, but didn’t see anyone. She looked into the house, but all she saw through the window was Aunt Larry talking on the phone in the kitchen. Larry saw her and waved for her to come inside. Chloe tried to shrug off the feeling, but it wouldn’t go away. She took a slow step. As she did, the last of the sun caught the window above her, the only one on the smaller part of the house. Chloe looked up. The window was very small, the glass reflecting the sunset. She studied it for a moment. As she did, she was certain, even through the glare, that she saw a hazy face looking back at her.
Startled, she looked away. She had imagined it, she was sure. Still, it gave her the creeps.
Chloe stood there, frozen by the willies until Aunt Larry’s voice calling her from indoors shook her out of her fear. With one last look at the window, Chloe went inside.
Aunt Larry insisted on a tour of the house while the moving men got the last of the stuff placed where she wanted it. Most of the Suttons’ possessions had been sold or given away in the last week, but there were certain pieces Aunt Larry wanted Chloe to keep, antiques Sophie had collected and intended for Chloe to have one day. Chloe went along with the tour, trying not to be interested. She didn’t feel like she should care. But the big place was cool and she liked it right away, almost as much as the ocean.
Aunt Larry had restored and, according to her, improved the house. She told Chloe that when she moved in it had needed a lot of help to get it back to livable. Chloe admired the old stone fireplaces with heavy wooden mantels and big airy spaces with high ceilings and Larry’s added touch of thick, white crown mouldings, all swirly and graceful. The kitchen was huge. Aunt Larry had installed an island in the middle of it. Big silver pots hung from a rack above it, with a fancy light in the middle. It was the only part of the house so far that felt modern, with shining stainless steel appliances and glass-doored cupboards she could see into.
The downstairs bathroom was big as well, just across the hall from the kitchen, with a nice, deep claw-foot tub. Chloe could almost hear Sophie having fits over it. It was so strange. They had intended to visit Aunt Larry, but hadn’t gotten around to it. And now here Chloe was, living with her. It was all very weird and surreal and made Chloe feel funny inside, like she was dreaming and would wake up at any moment.
The strangest part of the house was at the front. Aunt Larry led her into a rustic room that felt different from everywhere else she had been. The walls were rough wood, unpainted. A big fireplace filled one wall, but wasn’t ornamental like the rest. The mantel was scarred and scratched, the ends crumbling from age. The ceiling was supported by big, coarse beams. The floor was uneven and covered in cobbled stone.
“This was the original house,” Aunt Larry explained. “In the old days, they would build a smaller place to live in until they had enough resources to add onto it. The family who lived here, the MacKenzies, became quite wealthy at one point. Everyone around here still calls my place MacKenzie House. Their farm was the most productive in the area, employing a great number of people. That’s why the rest of the house seems so different. But they left the original as it was, so I did, too.”
Chloe remembered Marsh. “I met a boy at the cliff. His last name is MacKenzie. He said they live next door.”
Aunt Larry smiled and nodded. “Yes, that’s right. Was it Marsh, already? He’s been so excited to meet you.” Her eyes twinkled at Chloe. “They are a lovely family, great neighbours, very friendly. You’ll be meeting them all, I imagine, at some point.”
“How come they don’t live here?” Chloe ran her fingers over the rough stone of the fireplace and felt a creeping shiver climb up her back and across her shoulders.
Aunt Larry smiled, as if pleased Chloe was asking questions, showing interest. “I’m not sure,” she admitted. “The family started having trouble and the farm was sold in parcels. I think it had something to do with a pair of brothers that lived here. Might be something we could ask Bill, Marsh’s dad.”
“Do you think he’ll mind?” It seemed odd to Chloe to simply ask someone why their family lost their property, but Aunt Larry just shrugged.
“I doubt it,” she said. “Honestly, I’ve never thought to ask.”
Chloe was distracted by the return of that creepy feeling. That’s when she noticed the stairs.
“This room was the living space,” Aunt Larry said. “Up top was the sleeping quarters. It’s fascinating if you want to have a look.”
Chloe approached the stairs. They were boarded in from the living area, not
open with a railing like a normal set of stairs would be. When she faced them head on, they formed a black tunnel up into the second floor, with an old-looking exterior door at her back. She glanced over her shoulder through the small window at the top of the door and spotted the lilac bushes at the side of the house.
She returned her attention to the stairs. The steps themselves were very worn—the wood bowed in the middle—and were quite steep and narrow.
“Where’s the light?” Chloe asked, looking for a switch.
Aunt Larry laughed and handed her a flashlight from the mantel. “No electricity up there, I’m afraid. You can wait for morning, if you’d rather.”
Chloe switched on the flashlight and aimed the beam up the steps. She couldn’t wait. As reluctant as she was feeling, she had to go up.
Chloe started to climb. Her flip-flop caught on the third step and she stumbled. Aunt Larry was right behind her and steadied her. Chloe went on, braver with Aunt Larry there behind her. The beam of light lit the wall ahead of her and the low ceiling where the stairs ended. Chloe paused at the top and looked around. Right in front of her was a small window. The room was empty, old pine floors wavy with age. The ceiling was more beams, but sealed in this time. It was so small, she could barely imagine one person sleeping up there, let alone an entire family. Chloe took a step further, letting Aunt Larry duck and follow her the rest of the way.
“This part of the house is really old,” Aunt Larry said in a hushed voice as Chloe looked around. “About one hundred years if I was told right. The rest is younger, about seventy-five.”
Chloe turned, the light hitting Aunt Larry. “Cool,” she said, and meant it. The creepy feeling was still there, though.
“Ready to see the rest?” Aunt Larry was going down again. Chloe nodded, following her. When she approached the top of the stairs, a glint caught her eye. She walked to the window and looked out.
Below her was a clear view of the deck and the side garden. This was the smaller part of the house she had noticed from outside. She felt a shudder run through her. This was the window. Chloe spun, expecting to see someone behind her. But she was alone, really alone. Aunt Larry was gone. Chloe scrambled to follow, not wanting to be up there on her own even though she repeated to herself over and over as she stumbled down the slim, treacherous staircase that there was nothing to be afraid of.
The second floor of the newer part of the house was all big bedrooms, including Aunt Larry’s. Chloe liked the massive mirrors and beautiful art everywhere, from paintings to tribal masks, fancy rugs, and weavings, all brought back by Aunt Larry from her travels. The two bathrooms on that floor were modernized. Chloe was grateful to see a shower.
At last, Aunt Larry showed Chloe to the third floor, what used to be the attic. At the top of a set of stairs was a narrow landing, with a door on one side and a hall on the other. The hall ended at another doorway, all chipped paint and warped wood. Aunt Larry saw Chloe looking at it. “Just old junk back there,” she said before turning the white knob of the door in front of them. She stepped aside so Chloe could walk through first.
This part of the attic had been made over into a lovely bedroom, painted a soft yellow with windows on three sides. The ceiling was slanted on either side, making a cozy cubby for Chloe’s bed at the far end, under a window. It was already set up, waiting to be made, her white and pink dressers and vanity slid into place.
“I thought you’d like it up here,” Aunt Larry said. “We can put the furniture anywhere you want, okay?”
“Thanks,” Chloe said.
“If you don’t like this room, you can have one of the others.” Chloe knew Aunt Larry was worried about her. Trying to mind her manners, she smiled a little.
“It’s great. Thanks, Aunt Larry.”
Her aunt beamed. “Wonderful! I’m glad you like it.” Aunt Larry looked around. “I love this room, too. It feels like an adventure, somehow.”
Chloe crossed to her bed and took a seat on the mattress. That surreal feeling came back to her as she did. Here was her familiar stuff all around her, things she knew well which felt like home but in a place that didn’t. Chloe couldn’t shake it.
“Can you believe it’s this late?” Aunt Larry was looking at her watch, frowning. “Almost ten and neither of us has had a bite. I’m going to fix us something, Chloe. Come on down when you’re settled. Your bedclothes are in this box.” She deposited it beside Chloe. “We’ll make it up after we eat, okay?”
Chloe nodded. “I’ll be down in a minute,” she said.
Aunt Larry left, and a good thing, too. It was all Chloe could do to hold back her tears until her aunt’s footsteps echoed on the staircase. She grabbed a pillow and hugged it, crying with as little sound as possible. The house was nice but it wasn’t home. The ocean was beautiful, but it was so different from what she knew. The boy Marsh was funny and odd and could be her friend, but she missed her old life. Chloe couldn’t stand it anymore.
It was quite some time before she was able to go downstairs again.
Chloe ate her way through the roast beef sandwich and small pile of potato chips Aunt Larry set in front of her. She kept her head down, hoping her aunt wouldn’t notice the redness of her eyes. If Aunt Larry did, she didn’t say anything. Chloe was grateful.
She liked her strange aunt and the way Marsh talked about her. Larry sent the best Christmas and birthday presents every year, stuff that amazed Chloe and made her feel like she was part of her aunt’s adventures. But, despite that, Aunt Larry wasn’t her mom or dad. Being single with no kids, she was sometimes as awkward around Chloe as Chloe felt herself.
“I know it’s soon,” Aunt Larry said. “But if you want to talk… we didn’t get much of a chance. It’s been so busy for both of us.” Chloe noticed how tired her aunt looked and knew the accident had been hard on Larry, too. And she knew what her aunt meant. She flashed back to standing in the cemetery in her short black dress that Sophie bought her for their trip to the ballet that never happened. She remembered thinking the sun shouldn’t be shining, that it should be raining outside like it was in her heart. She knew there had been other people around, but Chloe felt so alone, her and two cherry-wood coffins and two holes in the ground covered with fake grass blankets so no one would have to look at those holes.
Chloe snapped back to herself and realized that Aunt Larry was talking again.
“You haven’t had any time to adjust, with the funeral and the sale of the house, now the move… I’m glad everything got wrapped up so fast in Ottawa, but I’m worried about you.” Her smile was kind, Patrick’s smile. Warm eyes, crinkled at the corners, a wide, full mouth. Straight nose, big jaw. If it wasn’t for Aunt Larry’s curly brown hair going grey, she could have been her brother. “I’m here for you, Chloe. For anything.”
Chloe shut down the memories of the cemetery, of her parents, and everything that had happened. She ducked her head, fists tightening in her lap. She had lost her appetite.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said.
She heard Larry sigh. “Maybe you need to talk to someone else. I have a friend, she’s great. Works with kids like you a lot.”
“A therapist.” Chloe spit out the words. She had heard the whispers at the funeral. From Sophie’s friends and Patrick’s. How Chloe should be in therapy, poor child. She hated the idea. How could a total stranger know anything about how she felt?
“Yes, Chloe. A therapist. You’d like her.”
“I’m not going.” She wasn’t a rebellious girl, but the thought made her stomach clench and brought her headache back.
“Chloe… ”
“I’m not crazy, I don’t need a therapist, I’m not going!” She hadn’t meant to yell. It came out of her and got louder and louder. Aunt Larry didn’t get mad, though. She sat there with sad eyes and watched Chloe.
“Okay, honey,” Aunt Larry said. “We’ll fig
ure it out ourselves.”
There was a long silence. Chloe returned her gaze to her fists. She heard rather than saw Aunt Larry get up and shuffle through the kitchen.
“I got you something,” she said as she rustled around in a bag before returning to the island where Chloe sat. “Every girl needs to read this, especially those who have just moved here.” She slid something across the counter toward Chloe. She snuck a peek. A small soft-cover book looked back at her. It was trimmed in green, with a white house on the front. There was girl in a carriage with an old man. The girl had hair the same colour as Marsh’s.
“It’s a classic,” Aunt Larry said. “I know you love to read. I hope you like it.”
Chloe winced inside. It looked kind of dumb. Still, she felt bad for how she had reacted to Aunt Larry, so she tried to apologize by picking it up and reading the title.
“Anne of Green Gables,” she said.
Aunt Larry was nodding. “World famous. I read it myself, when I got here. Marsh’s mother gave it to me.” She paused, hesitated, then spoke. “It’s about an orphan girl who moves to PEI,” she said.
Chloe almost threw the thing from her. The last thing she wanted to think about was what had brought her here in the first place. Aunt Larry should know better. Still, Chloe knew her aunt cared, so she stayed quiet, squeezing the book between her hands.
“Thanks,” she said.
