by Bryan Davis
“True. I even lost phone service a few miles back.”
I pressed the window switch and lowered the glass a few inches. The air still carried the morning’s chill, though it was now afternoon. “I hope Mr. Clark doesn’t mind me showing up out of the blue.”
“Tony knows you’re coming. I called just before we left Chicago.”
“Anyone else live here?”
“His wife — a lawyer, I think — and a daughter named Kelly. Sixteen years old.” Clara pulled into the long concrete driveway and stopped under the boughs of a mammoth cottonwood tree. An open garage revealed a pair of matching motorcycles but no car. “Tony said he’s honored that you’re coming. In fact, because your father’s will so stipulates, he’ll be your legal guardian, your new father, so to speak.”
I grimaced. “Don’t say that.” I closed my eyes and shook my head. “Just … don’t.”
“Okay, okay. I understand.” She opened the door and stepped out onto the driveway. “Just let me know when you’re ready to go in.”
After grabbing the Quattro mirror, now wrapped in a towel, I got out, walked to the front of the Jeep, and leaned against the hood, glaring at the house. Except for the satellite dish on the roof, the massive residence was a perfect setting for a movie about a rich land owner back in the days before combine harvesters. With its brick front and marble columns, the house seemed friendly enough, almost inviting, in spite of the would-be father who lived inside.
The cool autumn breeze swirled red and yellow leaves around my ankles, some of them funneling down from the cottonwood tree. Its deeply fissured bark and thick, serpentine limbs reached toward the ground like the long, gnarled arms of a giant.
I grabbed a triangular leaf out of the air and rubbed a finger along its coarsely toothed edge. The color of life had drained away, leaving only a pale yellow hue that reflected the sadness of its dying state. As dozens of other yellow leaves brushed by, I released the leaf into the wind, letting it join the parade of death.
I heaved a sigh and whispered, “I guess I’m ready.”
“Then let’s go.” Clara marched toward the door, her purple sleeves flapping in the stiffening breeze. “Once you sound the call, you might as well be ready to charge.”
I pushed away from the Jeep and followed, the wrapped mirror tucked under my arm. I hopped up one step to a tiled porch and bumped the edge of a welcome mat with my heavy boots. Red-twine letters woven into the bristly material spelled out, If You Have to Duck to Enter, I’m Your Coach.
Clara found a doorbell embedded in the brick wall and pressed it. A loud bong sounded from inside, a sweet bass, like the lowest note on a marimba.
A female voice sang through a speaker at the side of the door. “Who is it?”
Clara nodded at me. “Answer her, Nathan.”
I leaned toward the intercom. “Uh … It’s Nathan. Nathan Shepherd. Clara and I are here to — ”
“You’re early!”
I cleared my throat. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what time we were supposed to — ”
“But I’m not ready. I mean, we’re not ready. Your room is — ” A loud thump sounded from the speaker. “Ouch. Now look at what you made me do.”
“I made you?”
“Ooooh. Just wait right there. Don’t move a muscle.”
I glanced at Clara. She gave me an I-have-no-idea expression and added a shrug. After a few seconds, loud, uneven footsteps stomped toward the door. It swung open, revealing a teenaged girl hopping on one bare foot. Her bouncing, shoulder-length blonde hair framed a pretty face with black smudges on each cheek.
She grabbed her toes and leaned against the jamb, scrunching thin eyebrows toward a button nose. Her cuffed jeans exposed her leg from midcalf downward. “That cabinet was heavy.”
I focused on her pink toenails, the shade of pink on Barbie doll boxes and Pepto-Bismol bottles. “Think you broke a bone?”
She set her foot down and tested her weight on it while pulling her dirty white T-shirt to cover her midriff. “I don’t think so. It’s just — ”
“You must be Kelly,” Clara said, extending her hand. “I’m Clara Jackson, Nathan’s tutor.”
Kelly took Clara’s hand and nodded. “Kelly Clark. Pleased to meet you.” She reached her hand toward me. “Pleased to meet you, too, Nathan. Are you a Bulls fan?”
I shook her hand. “A Bulls fan?”
“Yeah.” She pointed at my shirt. “You know. The basketball team. My dad loves them.”
I glanced down at the logo. “Oh, that. It’s borrowed. I’m not really a basketball fan.”
“Oh.” A faint gleam appeared in Kelly’s eyes, and she flashed a hint of a smile. “Good.”
“Are your parents home?” Clara asked.
“No. Dad’s leading practice with the team today, and then he’s going out to get stuff for tonight’s dinner, so it’ll be a while.” Kelly pulled in her bottom lip and drummed her fingers on her thigh. “And Mom’s … um … in Des Moines for … for personal reasons.” As a pink flush tinted her face, she gestured with her head. “C’mon in. There’re cold drinks in the fridge and — ”
“I must leave immediately,” Clara said. “Our lawyer is meeting me in Davenport so I can settle Nathan’s affairs. I’ll collect some necessary items for him while I’m there. We had a mishap of sorts last night and lost our luggage.”
“Oh, that’s too bad.” She gave me a quick scan. “Nathan can’t wear any of my father’s clothes. They’d be too big.”
Clara looked at her wristwatch. “It’s still early, so I should be able to come back this evening with some things.” She placed a hand on my shoulder and turned to Kelly. “Did your father tell you about Nathan’s parents?”
Kelly’s head drooped an inch. “Yes … he did.”
“Then I’m sure you’ll make him feel at home, won’t you?”
A sympathetic smile spread across Kelly’s face. “You can count on me, Ms. Jackson.”
Clara kissed me on the forehead. “I think you’re in good hands.” As a tear coursed down her cheek, she whispered. “I’m sorry for leaving so abruptly, but I have a lot to do.”
“It’s okay. I understand.” I gave her a one-armed hug.
“I’ll see you tonight.” Clara waved as she strode to the Jeep.
While she backed out and zoomed away, Kelly stepped to my side and watched with me. “So, you have a personal tutor? Must be fun.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty cool, I guess.” The Jeep turned onto the main road. My last attachment to the life I once knew disappeared in a cloud of dust. My throat sore and tight, I forced out the only words that came to mind. “I don’t have anything to compare it to.”
She cupped her hand around my elbow and led me inside. “You tired?”
“Pretty tired.” I stepped into the foyer, which opened up into a huge sitting room with a cream-colored leather sofa and loveseat on one side, a Steinway grand piano on the other, and a crystal chandelier suspended from the ceiling. The dangling crystals sprinkled tiny shivering rainbows on the walls where they tickled the faces on a half-dozen framed portraits, mostly of pleasant-looking elderly folks who seemed to grin at the sudden attention.
I resisted the urge to whistle at the rich décor. Kelly’s mom had to be a successful lawyer to afford all this stuff.
The breeze from the open doorway nudged the chandelier, making the crystals sway. The prismatic colors converged on the wall and spun, and the sparkles tumbled in a kaleidoscopic merry-go-round. A moment later, the rainbows scattered into their former chaotic pattern.
Kelly closed the door and joined me in the piano room. “What are you staring at?”
“Everything.” I took a deep breath. The aroma of polished wood blending with a hint of peanut butter carried a warm welcome message. “Your place looks great.”
“Thanks. My mother really knew — I mean, really knows how to decorate.”
I caressed the piano’s glossy rosewood. “A Model B Victorian.�
� I looked at Kelly. “What is it? Seven foot two?”
“Good eye.” She nodded at the matching bench. “Go ahead. My father told me you play.”
“Well, I’m a lot better at the violin, but maybe I can remember something.” I slid into place in front of the piano and set the mirror at my side. After pushing up the keyboard cover, I draped my fingertips across the cool ivory keys. Then, with a gentle touch, I played the first measures of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata. After starting out well, I fumbled through the piece, clumsily missing note after note. Heat surging through my cheeks, I stopped and stared at my trembling fingers. Apparently even my hands were grieving.
“Well, it’s not that fancy.” Kelly arched her brow. “When did you visit the Taj Mahal?”
“Taj Mahal?” I closed the keyboard cover. “Why did you bring that up?”
“You brought it up first.”
I rose to my feet, sliding the bench back. “I brought it up? What are you talking about?”
“While you were playing the piano. You said you’re glad you made it to the Taj Mahal. That’s why I said our place isn’t that fancy.”
“No, I said I’m a lot better at the violin, but I’d try to play something.”
Kelly closed one eye. “But after that, you said — ”
“I didn’t say anything after that.”
As the chandelier’s colorful sparkles passed across her face, she tapped her chin with a finger. “The stress must be getting to you. If you can’t even remember saying something, you really need to get some rest.”
“But I didn’t say anything, I — ”
“Your room’s this way.” Striding through the adjacent hall at a lively pace, she raised her voice. “Stay close. You’ll get lost in this house if you don’t keep up.”
I grabbed the mirror and stepped in her direction, then halted. “Didn’t you say your parents aren’t here?”
She shouted from a distant room. “Right. Dad’ll probably get back in about three hours after he gets stuff for your welcome dinner. I’m making a special dish tonight.” She leaned out a doorway at the end of the corridor. “Why?”
“So that means we’re alone.”
“Oh, I get it.” Kelly hurried back to the foyer, her feet slapping against the tile. “My father told me you’d have a lot of old-fashioned ideas,” she said as she grabbed my hand.
“Old-fashioned?”
She pointed at herself, her blue eyes gleaming. “Don’t think of me as a girl. Think of me as your sister.”
“But I’ve never had a sister.”
She guided me toward the bedroom. “And I’ve never had a brother. You could come in handy.”
I pulled away from Kelly and followed as she turned through an open door on the right. I stopped under the lintel and looked in. A tri-domed hanging fixture and a lamp on a desk illuminated the enormous room. With high ceilings and soft beige carpet that seemed to run on endlessly, my new bedroom was even bigger than the piano room.
I blinked and looked again. No, the size was an illusion. A huge mirror covered the entire back wall and reflected the room’s interior, exaggerating its spaciousness.
Kelly knelt and began collecting books from the floor. “Sorry about the mess. I was trying to adjust the cabinet shelves, and while I was talking to you on the intercom, the screwdriver slipped, and the whole thing fell over.”
“No need to apologize.” I set the Quattro mirror on the floor, lifted the cabinet, and pushed it upright, then scooped an armload of books and heaved them to the shelves.
As I bent to grab another load, I glanced at the room’s mirror. In the image, looming shadows stretched across our heads and backs. The books, the cabinet, and the carpet disappeared, replaced by an endless layer of dead autumn leaves. Lightning flashed, and a breeze blew the leaves into a swirl, enveloping us and an unfamiliar dark-haired girl in a tornadic funnel.
I looked away from the reflection. There were no strange shadows in the room. No leaves. No storm. No unfamiliar girl. I spun toward the mirror again. Everything was back to normal.
Kelly grunted as she lifted an unabridged dictionary to the top shelf. “That’s where Dad wants it. ‘Got to keep Webster handy,’ he always says. ‘You never know when you’ll need a paperweight.’ ”
I set a hefty world atlas next to the dictionary. “Or maybe two paperweights.”
She snatched a dusty rag from a dresser, stuffed it into her jeans pocket, and spread out her hands. “So, what do you think? Pretty cool, huh?”
“Very cool. Thanks for all your work.” I slid my hands into my pockets and nodded toward the desk. “I like having a desk. I read a lot.”
“Really? I don’t meet many guys who — ” She squinted. “Are you okay? You’re as white as a ghost.”
I touched my cheek. “I think so.”
“You’d better lie down.” She stepped toward a queen-size poster bed and pulled back the comforter. “Seriously. You look like you could crash and burn at any second.”
Letting out a sigh, I nodded. My hallucinating proved that she was right.
She fluffed the pillow and patted it. “I’ll wake you up when dinner’s ready.”
I spoke through a yawn. “Get me up right away if Clara calls or comes back, okay?”
“I will.” Kelly’s eyes softened as she laid a hand on my shoulder. “Our home is your home. Just try to forget about everything and chill for a while. You’ll feel better soon.”
Her gentle touch felt warm and good. “Thanks. When Clara told me about your family, it was the first time I ever heard of you, so I was kind of nervous.”
“Don’t be. I’m harmless. Well, to my friends, anyway. And my dad’s excited. He always wanted a son to play basketball with.” She spread out her arms. “But all Mom and Dad could come up with was little old, five-foot-five me.”
I laughed. Kelly’s comical grin, combined with her grimy cheeks and sparkling eyes, chased away my sorrows, at least for the moment. Having her as a sister promised brighter days ahead.
After flicking off the desk lamp, Kelly turned a dial on the intercom speaker next to the door. Classical music flowed into the room, an unfamiliar piece by a string quartet. She turned off the overhead light, scooted out on tiptoes, and closed the door with a quiet click.
I stood alone. The draped window on the adjacent wall allowed the sun’s afternoon rays to filter in and wash the room with muted light, creating a host of new shadows on the floor. A fresh blotter covered the center of the desk, bordered by a fancy pen and three pencils on one side and a pencil sharpener on the other. Propped on a back corner, an eight-by-ten frame held a computer-printed message, Welcome, Nathan, in bold blue letters. The message brought new warmth. Kelly was really trying to make me feel at home.
But it wasn’t home. At least not yet.
I pulled my wallet from my back pocket, still slightly damp from its swim in the river, slid my fingers into a slot inside, and withdrew a photo — Mom and Dad, each with an elbow leaning against a snowman, a comical pose they had struck during a hike on Mount Shasta in California. Mom’s vibrant smile stabbed my heart. Dad’s silly grin deepened the strike. Tears welled. I pinched the bridge of my nose and laid the wallet and photo on the nearby night table.
After sliding into bed and settling under the comforter, I stared at the huge mirror through the space between the bedposts. In the deathly still air, the music seemed to grow in volume. A new piece began, Mozart’s Requiem Mass in D Minor — lovely, yet haunting.
The window at my side hovered in the mirror’s image as if suspended in thick liquid, gently swimming in a tight circle. As the room grew darker, my mind slumbered in a dreamlike haze. Mozart’s Latin phrases streamed in. I translated the familiar lyrics, imagining the words and notes on a musical staff floating above my head.
Grant them eternal rest, Lord,
And may everlasting light shine on them.
You are praised, God, in Zion,
And prayer will be return
ed to you in Jerusalem.
Hear my speech,
To you all flesh will come.
Grant them eternal rest, Lord,
And let everlasting light shine on them.
Darkness pushed deeper into the room. Lightning flashed. A soft rumbling sound passed over the ceiling, while raindrops pecked at the window pane.
There will be great trembling
When the judge comes
To closely examine all!
The trumpet will send its wondrous sound
Throughout the region’s tombs
He will gather all before the throne.
The hypnotic window, a soft light in the midst of deep grays and purples, stretched in all directions. As it filled the mirror, I tried to focus on the image. Was this a dream?
Death and nature will be astounded,
When all creation rises again,
To answer to the judgment.
A written book will be brought forth,
In which all will be contained,
By which the world will be judged.
The drapes covering the reflected window parted. Bright light seeped in, illuminating a hand as it emerged through a gap at the window’s base. As the sash lifted, long, pointed fingernails bit into the varnish. The frame groaned, wood dragging on wood, and the gap expanded inch by inch. A face appeared, the thin, sallow face that had so recently burned an image in my mind with its hungry, greedy eyes.
Mictar was trying to enter.
King of tremendous majesty,
Who freely saves those worthy ones,
Save me, spring of mercy.
Remember, kind Jesus,
Because I am the cause of your suffering;
Lest you should forsake me on that day.
I fought against sleep. My mind screamed at my body to wake up. This was too real. That mirror had somehow pierced my dream, warning of an approaching murderer. I gritted my teeth and wagged my head on the pillow, but I couldn’t seem to wake up.
Within the mirror, the specter climbed into the room, showing his thin frame in full profile, but his distinctive white ponytail was missing. He turned toward me. His face displayed no bruise, no sign that a violin had crashed across his cheek. He skulked into the reflection’s foreground, his expression void.
