Mom looked concerned, so I hurried to finish my story.
“So I looked at the paper, and didn’t believe it was a real legal document, so I wanted to give it to Polly’s lawyer, and he confirmed it isn’t legitimate.”
“And… what did this Alfred Sullivan do?” Mom wanted to know.
Hm. What did he do? I might have to see another mouse, depending on how this conversation goes.
“Well, he left.”
“He just left?”
Well… he got thrown down the stairs and the seat chewed out of his pants, but why be wordy about it.
“He left.”
“Huh,” Mom said, considering that.
“Dinner smells great, Mom,” I said, turning on the oven light so I could see what was cooking. “It looks awesome, too!”
Mom would not be re-directed, but she wasn’t overly concerned, either.
“Well, I’m glad you have Chip with you at the castle,” she said.
“Yeah, and there are so many people working there off and on. I’m never alone,” I said truthfully enough.
“Oh, well that’s good,” Mom said, the faint crease in her forehead smoothing.
“So is dinner almost ready, shall I round up the others?” I asked.
“Sure, I think Doreen will eat in the living room on the couch, but you can get Tryon’s hands washed, and bring him in.”
“Will do, Mom.”
Crisis averted. I hated not being fully honest with Mom, but the truth would cause her unbearable stress. I felt caught between a rock and a hard-place, and the rock of not-telling-Mom-everything was a lot softer and gentler on everyone than the hard-place of telling Mom everything and completely freaking her out, and being institutionalized because I have an imaginary friend.
I’m sticking with the rock, and going to avoid the hard-place for everyone’s sake.
Chapter 10
We woke to a white world. Snow blanketed everything between earth and sky, and there was frost on the windows of the cabin. Mom had a fire roaring in the fireplace, and I stood there warming my hands for a moment.
“It’s really howling out there!” Mom said. “Do you want to take the car today?”
I thought about that.
“Hm, well... I think Chip and I will be okay. I mean I know he will, have you seen his fur? It’s crazy thick! I’ll bundle up, and honestly I’d rather walk through the woods than try and drive on an icy mountain road.”
“Smart thinking,” said Mom. “But you sure will need to bundle up, that wind is going to cut like a knife.”
I ate a quick breakfast, then grabbed my cold weather gear.
“I’m so glad you broke down and bought a good coat,” Mom said. “We didn’t exactly come from a place that prepared us for this kind of weather.”
“I really hated spending the money though,” I said ruefully. “I want to save it all for college.”
“I know, honey,” said Mom sympathetically. “I hate that things happened as they did, and we weren’t able to send you like we always planned to.”
“Don’t feel bad, Mom,” I said. It sure wasn’t her fault, or Dad’s. “Polly is one generous lady. I’ll go to college, and hey, maybe I’ll appreciate it more because I had to work for it.”
“I appreciate your attitude,” Mom said. “A lot of kids would pitch a fit rather than pitch in, and be willing to give up as much as you have.”
I considered that as I fastened my coat.
“Well… difficulty creates the opportunity to rise to the challenge and grow stronger,” I said.
I did not say that my smart friend Miles told me that, although he did.
“I’d rather be better, than bitter,” I added, as I pulled on my boots.
Mom blinked back some tears.
“Mom, do not cry! For pity’s sake, will it make you feel better if I try real hard to work up some bitterness?”
Mom laughed, and dabbed at her eyes.
“No, I’m just—proud of you, that’s all.”
“Well,” I said, ready for a change of subject, “I’m glad I got the snow boots, can you imagine trying to wade through snow in cross trainers or my suede boots?”
“No kidding,” said Mom. “Call me when you get there, okay? I’ll feel better if you do.”
“Sure Mom,” I said, giving her a hug as I headed out the door with Chip.
He ran out into the snow, and dove into a drift. He stood back up and shook, sending snowflakes flying.
“Silly guy, you like the cold better than the heat, huh?” I laughed. “Well, me too.”
Everything around us was varying shades of white, even the sky. It was too bad the wind was blowing. Tryon would be disappointed, when he woke up and discovered he couldn’t come out and play in the snow.
After we crossed the bridge, the path through the forest provided a welcome respite from the biting wind and stinging snow crystals. Once we reached the garden, it was at us full force again. Even Chip was ready to play inside for the day, by the time we reached the front doors of the castle.
“Hi,” I said, breathless from our trip through the winter world, as I closed the door behind us and began unwinding my scarf and removing layers.
“Hi back,” smiled Miles. “I didn’t think you’d come today, it’s so bad out.”
“Hey, I’m like the post office. Rain, sleet, snow, whatever... it’s not going to stop me. Although it may slow me down. We really had to push against the wind to get here.”
“It’s not what you’re used to, I suppose,” said Miles.
“Not a bit,” I agreed. “I’m used to blowing sand, not blowing snow.”
“That doesn’t sound pleasant.”
“Oh, it isn’t. You can lose a few layers of skin just by standing outside in the month of March,” I said.
Miles laughed.
“I’m not joking,” I said. “It’s ridiculous!”
“Have you heard anything new about Polly’s grandson?” Miles asked.
“Oh, no, but—I need to call Mom. She’ll worry if I don’t,” I said, ripping my iPhone out of my pocket.
After reassuring Mom that Chip and I arrived safely, I turned back to Miles.
“So where to, today?” I asked. “Molly and her crew aren’t coming, which is smart. I need to hire a service to plow the driveway so they can get to the house, but there’s no point in that when the snow is still coming down so thick.”
“I suppose we might as well continue on the same hall we’ve been searching through,” said Miles, leading the way.
“Back to Polly’s grandson though,” I said. “There hasn’t been any change so far. Polly hopes the change in hospitals will make a difference.”
“I hope so too,” said Miles.
“Wait.” I stopped abruptly, and looked at him. “Your parents’ room was on the second floor. Let’s check out the storage area that’s closest to their room.”
“Alright. Let’s do it.”
We turned, and Miles led the way.
We reached the storage room, and began going through wardrobes and drawers and trunks. It seemed as though every room held a cedar chest or trunk of some kind.
“So what was your favorite period in history?” I asked.
Miles thought.
“I’d say now. The technology available today is amazing compared to when I was, well, solid. It’s amazing compared to even last year.”
“I guess having a computer now, and the internet, helps you stay connected to the outside world,” I said, laying aside a bundle of baby clothes that filled the cedar chest I was searching.
“It does. I’ve read every book in Mission Control—”
“You’re kidding! Every book?” I exclaimed.
“You might be surprised what can be accomplished in a hundred and forty years, when you don’t need sleep, or have anything else to do.”
“Wow. I guess. That’s still pretty impressive, considering how many books are in that room.”
�
�Having a computer has allowed me to keep up with current events. Not that it matters I suppose, but it is nice to know what’s going on outside these walls. Even if I’m not really a part of it, I feel better connected and less isolated.”
“I don’t even know how you did it, staying so laid-back and sane all these years. Even with Trixie here, it just seems like torture,” I said.
Miles shrugged.
“I guess when there’s no choice, you just—deal with whatever it is you have no choice over.”
That sounded sort of like what I said to Mom earlier. Miles had it way worse than I ever did, though.
Miles continued.
“It’s made a huge difference though, that you can see and talk to me. And didn’t run screaming when you realized I was semi-transparent.”
I laughed.
“Are you kidding? I hardly stayed conscious, I can’t even imagine how I would have run.”
“So that was it. You sure did look terrified. You looked like you saw a ghost.”
We both laughed over that, for some reason it struck us both as very funny.
“Yeah, but,” I said, “it turned out you were actually my good-friend-to-be, semi-transparent guy, who has amazingly cool superpowers. I would have missed out on a really good friendship, if I’d run off. I’m glad I didn’t.”
“Me too,” smiled Miles.
I stood and stretched my back, surveying the room as I did so. I moved to have a closer look at a group of assorted pieces of furniture that filled a corner of the room.
“Hey, it’s an old roll top desk,” I said, squeezing between a wardrobe and chest of drawers to get closer to it.
“Here, let me,” said Miles, moving the furniture so that I had plenty of room.
“You really are very handy, you know,” I smiled, and Miles smiled back.
I raised the front of the large desk to reveal pigeonholes. Lots of pigeonholes. They were each stuffed full of papers. I sighed. This was going to take a while.
Miles whistled under his breath.
“This is going to take a while.”
I couldn’t help but laugh.
“What?”
“Nothing, I was just thinking the same thing,” I said. “And I’m going to look on the bright side, this is better than breaking my back over more trunks.”
“Then I’ll search through the trunks, while you do that,” said Miles considerately.
I removed the papers from one of the pigeonholes and began to go through them one at a time. We sorted in silence, as I focused on scanning each paper for relevant information.
“I’m finished with the trunks,” said Miles. “Let me help.”
He began looking through the drawers of the desk. They were full to the brim, as well.
“So what on earth happened, someone decided to stuff every miscellaneous paper in the entire castle into this desk?” I asked, struggling to pull one particularly large mass of pages out of the pigeonhole in which they were stuck.
“That’s what it looks like,” said Miles, as he leafed through the contents of his drawer.
“Oh! Miles-Miles-Miles!” I breathed. “I found something!”
“What?” Miles asked, trying to see what was in my hand as I bounced up and down. I held a stack of folded papers, tied with a ribbon, out to him.
Miles took it in his hands. Written on the top page of the stack was “Evidence, Miles and Delevan”.
Miles’ hands shook in his eagerness to unbind the papers. I could hardly stand still, maybe we finally found something we could use! I restrained myself from snatching back the bundle, and helping him loosen the ribbon that bound it.
Miles and I sat on the floor at the same time, and he began to unfold the papers and read them.
“It’s a diagram of the clearing,” said Miles.
“Your Dad did a good job of mapping that out, from what you told me,” I said.
The diagram indicated signs of blood stains and earth that appeared to have been disturbed in places other than where Miles and Delevan were found.
“They were in a hurry,” Miles remembered. “They knew they had to be out of there in case my Father returned home and went looking for Delevan.”
“Your Dad should have been a CSI agent,” I said. I was impressed.
On another paper, he noted how many people he judged to be in the clearing, based on what he found. He was right about how many were there, but he didn’t list the fourth man, which was understandable.
Miles didn’t say anything, he was searching each page with intense concentration.
“This says he found Delevan’s blood-stained handkerchief here,” I pointed at another page, “a distance away from both of you.”
Miles struggled to remember.
“He was trying to bandage my knee, to stop the bleeding. I forgot about that. We were ambushed before he managed to.”
We continued to sort. While some of the papers had relevant information, others didn’t. I felt for his poor Dad, trying so hard to unravel the mystery of what really happened that day and never receiving anything but a deaf ear from the Cedar Oaks’ Sheriff. From what Miles said, I imagined the residents of Cedar Oaks were less than supportive, as well.
“Look!” I said, holding out a news article that was folded inside a page.
Miles and I both read it at the same time. It was about two unidentified men who were found shot to death.
“That has to be them,” he said.
The page in which it was folded held copious notes detailing his Dad’s search to identify the men. He noted that the bullets used against them could have come from Miles’ revolvers and Delevan’s derringer. He also noted that he would point this out once he had enough evidence to exonerate Miles, otherwise he was sure the information would be used against him. I was sure it would have been, too.
“You’re still here,” I said, looking at Miles. “So I guess this and the death certificates aren’t enough, although it seems like they ought to be.”
“To be totally honest with you, what I have no peace about is the accusation of being in love with my brother’s fiancé, and trying to take her from him,” said Miles. “I’m sure it sounds strange, but that’s worse to me than being accused of murdering him.”
I nodded.
“You’re an honorable guy. That doesn’t surprise me, Miles,” I said.
I gathered up the papers.
“Okay then. I think this and the death certificates ought to be plenty to prove half of the story is false. The death certificates prove you couldn’t have been shot by your brother after he was already dead, and this indicates there were other people there that day, too. We’ll keep hunting until we find proof that the other half was also a lie,” I said.
“That sounds good,” said Miles, a shadow of a smile crossing his face.
“Hey,” I said. Forgetting he was semi-transparent, I tried to shoulder bump him and nearly fell over in the process, which at least made us both laugh. “We’ll find that proof. It exists, it’s out there, and every day we’re getting closer.”
“I believe you, I’m not giving up,” Miles said, giving me a genuine smile.
“Good,” I said, as I bundled and retied his Dad’s notes. “Let’s go put this in the safe with the death certificates.
I was sure we would find proof. Just as sure as I was that he deserved to be free, and that I was really going to miss him when he was gone.
Chip and I returned to the cabin after a long day of searching at the castle. We hadn’t found anything else, but at least Miles and I had fun talking and looking at more of his old family memorabilia.
We hurried inside, and I slammed the backdoor against the howling wind and snow.
There was howling inside, too, it sounded like a crazy kids’ party was going on. Tryon was running around the cabin screaming, Mom was jumping up and down laughing and crying, and Doreen was smiling broadly.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Doree’s
got limes!” yelled Tryon.
Mom half rolled her eyes, which sparkled with excitement.
“The doctor called, the test results came in. Doreen tested positive. Dad picked up her prescriptions in Glen Haven on his way here for the weekend, so any minute now, we can get started with the treatment protocol the doctor outlined!”
“Oh my goodness! I can hardly believe it!” I exclaimed.
If we never came here, and I never met Miles… I’d never know for sure, but there was a good chance we never would have found out what was wrong.
“I’m sure we’d look crazy to anyone who could look in and see the way we’re acting right now,” said Mom, smiling ear to ear as she hugged a laughing Tryon, and swung him around.
“Yeah, well, we’re not glad Doree’s sick, we’re glad that now, finally, she can get better!” I said.
“No kidding,” said Mom, setting Tryon down, then sitting herself down at the table breathlessly. “Watching her suffer and get worse, while the doctors claimed nothing was wrong, and didn’t believe us, or her…”
“I know, Mom,” I agreed. “To finally have a diagnosis for a treatable illness, it’s better than Christmas.”
Dad arrived, and the celebration continued, as Doreen took her first dose of the medications that would ultimately bring her back to health. We had a very merry celebratory family dinner, then the rest of the family settled in for a movie.
I put my cold weather gear back on, reassured my perplexed mother that there was something I absolutely must do at the castle, and was out the door like a shot.
I flew down the path and back through the icy woods. I was so excited that Doreen had a diagnosis, and couldn’t wait to tell Miles the news, and thank him.
“Miles!” I yelled, skidding into the entryway in my snow covered boots, as the door slammed behind me.
“What’s going on?” Miles appeared beside me, his eyes filled with concern.
“It’s my sister!” I beamed. “You were right! We’ve got a diagnosis, and now she can begin treatment! You were right!”
Miles Page 15
