The Fog of Forgetting (4 page)

Knox broke off a low branch with a loud crack and swung it around his head, swiping at other branches and granite outcroppings along the way. He stopped in front of a rock pile and lopped the top off of a fir sapling growing by the side of the path. Bored of waiting for Chase to catch up, he scaled the rock pile, crawling on all fours around a jumble of moss-covered granite. On the other side of the pile, three large boulders joined to form a deep cavity, tall and wide enough for a grown man to sit up in. He peered in and sniffed.

“This summer, I'm going all the way in,” he yelled to Chase over his shoulder.

“Yeah, right. You say that every year,” scoffed Chase, who was climbing up behind him.

“No, I mean it, I'm doing it.” Knox sat back on his heels, picked up a small pinecone, and threw it into the cave as hard as he could. Then he leaned in, listening for some kind of response, and recoiled, almost toppling backwards off the ledge.

“There's a breeze! It's coming from inside the cave!”

Chase stuck his head in the entrance. “I don't feel it.”

Knox shivered despite the sun shining through the trees.

“That cave leads somewhere, I know it. Something's in there. Maybe it's what I saw this morning. Some kind of animal.”

“Maybe—or maybe it's a zombie lair!” said Chase, lowering his voice to a growl. “They could be watching us right now! Tonight they'll break in and tear our heads off and suck out our eyeballs!”

“Ha ha ha,” Knox replied, trying to sound like he didn't care. He chewed nervously on his T-shirt and backed slowly away from the cave, then jumped off the rock pile.

“Race ya!” he shouted, and sprinted up the driveway.

“Jeez, Knox, I was only joking!” groaned Chase, trotting behind.

Knox slammed into the kitchen. Chase caught the screen door before it closed and followed him in. Their dad stood at the sink looking thoughtfully out a side window, holding a mug to his lips. Teddy was on the floor by the stove. In the center of the room, their mother sat at the breakfast table. Across from her was a tall, white-haired older woman in a yellow slicker—their neighbor, Fanny Dellemere.

“Did you have a nice walk, boys?” Mrs. Dellemere asked without turning around. “Perhaps you ran into something—or someone—unexpected?” She turned and winked at them.

Chase and Knox knew three things about old Mrs. Dellemere: She was a widow, she lived alone (or at least she had—until now), and she had the coolest collection of stuff they'd ever seen. The walls of her cottage were covered with shells, sea glass, dried moss, sun-bleached rodent skulls, old snakeskins, and a huge variety of preserved butterflies and dragonflies. Best of all, one entire wall was filled with shelves of lucky stones: smooth gray-and-black rocks circled by a white ring that you could either wish on and throw back in the ocean or keep in your pocket and rub for good luck.

Their mother's eyes flashed the “be polite” signal.

“Fanny was just telling me about the girls. She thought you two might have met them at the beach.”

“Oh yeah—Evelyn and Frankie,” said Knox.

“They seem … uh … nice,” Chase mumbled, not knowing whether his mother knew about the whole orphan thing yet.

“We'll have to have them over,” said Grace.

Mrs. Dellemere gave their mom a quick pat on the forearm. “I'm sure they would love that, Grace. It's boring for them to be cooped up with an old woman all day. They haven't quite adjusted to the climate here—and I'm afraid the town hasn't quite adjusted to them.”

“Why?” asked Chase, curiosity piqued all over again.

Mrs. Dellemere turned around in her chair to face them. “I don't know how much they told you, but they've lost both their parents. Their mother died when Frances was a baby.”

The boys exchanged quick looks.
Frances?
No wonder she wanted to be called Frankie.

Grace made a sympathetic noise.

Mrs. Dellemere hesitated, then said by way of explanation, “The girls are from Haiti, from Port-au-Prince.”

“Good Lord!” cried Grace. “Were they—I mean, are they—?”

Mrs. Dellemere nodded. “I found them in an orphanage, after.”

The gears in Chase's head were clicking. Haiti. The earthquake.

“Their father was born in Canada, but he went to Haiti many years ago. He was a doctor; he met their mother there.” Mrs. Dellemere sighed. “The girls and their father were asleep when the first tremor hit. The apartment building collapsed and the girls were trapped. Rescuers pulled them out, but their father—” She shook her head.

Grace reached across the table. “Fanny, I'm so sorry.”

Mrs. Dellemere patted her hand. “He was a good friend.”

Teddy, oblivious, howled for someone to pour him his cereal. The somber mood in the kitchen lifted a little. Mrs. Dellemere ruffled Teddy's blond mop of hair.

“Well, Grace, the girls are probably wondering where I'm off to.” She stood up, and it was as if an ancient, yellow-slickered tree had suddenly sprouted in the kitchen, tall and thick and weathered, with long white hair looped loosely on top. As she passed Chase and Knox standing by the stove, she paused and peered down at them from her great height. Despite her age, her eyes were still bright, the whites clear and strong.

“When those girls lost everything, I decided to take them in. I wasn't sure I wanted to—I like being on my own—but I knew in my heart it was the right thing to do. And you know, now I can't imagine living here without them.” With surprising delicacy, she lifted Chase's inhaler by its nylon cord and examined it and his flushed face, then replaced it gently.

“Never mind, lad; haste is overrated.” She pinched his shoulder, gave a little backwards wave, and stalked out of the kitchen, rattling the dishes in the cupboard. At the screen door, she thundered, “Nice to see you, Jim! Mind your family while you're here.”

The screen door slammed after her like a shot. Jim dropped his coffee mug into the sink. The room suddenly felt small and empty.

“That woman is a tour de force,” said Grace admiringly.

“Also known as a battle-ax.” Jim winked naughtily at Knox.

“I expect you boys to do whatever you can to make those poor girls feel welcome here. You know what it's like to be new. And after what they've been through! I can't imagine,” said Grace.

Chase stifled a groan. He knew he was being selfish, but this was Summerledge. He wasn't in the mood to share it with strangers, even if they seemed nice.

“In fact,” his mother went on, “after we go to town I want you to walk over there and personally invite them over for lunch.”

This time, it was Knox's turn to groan.

S
ummerledge was a minefield of handyman projects—just as Jim Thompson suspected. The toilet wouldn't flush right; the lawnmower blades were rusty and dull; and the grass was in desperate need of mowing. The house, barn, and little dinghy,
Germ
, all needed paint. Not that Chase or Knox were at all confident that their dad could fix these things—but getting the supplies while they were in town seemed like a step in the right direction. Plus, their parents were planning on stopping by Captain Nate's place to ask him to put the boat on the mooring.

The sun fell brightly on the battered old car as it sped down the little road to Fells Harbor. Chase and Knox took turns pointing out changes they noticed from last summer. Teddy was stripped down to a bathing suit, still wearing his goggles, and ready to go to the beach.

“Dad!” yelled Knox. “Stop! There's town—you drove right past it!”

“Right you are,” Jim chortled, visibly startled out of a daydream. He swerved to the side of the two-lane road and did a U-turn. They parked the car outside of the hardware store and the three boys tumbled out of the backseat.

“Keep an eye on Teddy, please,” Grace called, heading toward the post office to open the mailbox.

The boys crossed the street to the drugstore. When the door to Flo's swung open, Chase, Knox, and Teddy instinctively breathed in the familiar smell, exactly the same every year: roasted marshmallows, vanilla, and Coppertone. An old-fashioned soda counter with a big mirror took up the entire right-hand side of the store. To one side was the fountain menu—written in flowery, pink script—with twelve different flavors of ice cream. Pictures of Fells Harbor residents plastered the other side in a collage: babies, dogs, birthday parties, and some ancient-looking black-and-white photographs of people standing beside horses-and-buggies.

“I want candy!” shouted Teddy, fishing in his pocket for the dollar Grace had stuffed there and waving it at Chase. “How much can I get?”

“Wait a second,” he replied, then lifted Teddy up to the counter so he could see the pictures.

It was tradition to start off the summer by looking for the picture of their mother on the mirror. They found it quickly: a gap-toothed, pigtailed Grace Baker in a yellow T-shirt, sharing a sundae with her older brother. Their uncle Edward was Knox's age in the picture, with wavy blond hair and big teeth. He was licking his spoon and mugging for the camera; Grace was laughing as though he were the funniest kid in the world.

Knox turned away first and headed for the toy aisle. Seeing the picture of their lost uncle gave him the same spooky, sad feeling he got from walking in a graveyard, and—between the new girls and the cave—he'd had enough spookiness for one day.

A half-hour later, their dad came to fetch them. Knox had bought a cap gun, Teddy was sucking on a miniature baby bottle filled with candied sugar, and Chase had his nose in a spy novel. On the quick drive home, Jim pulled over at Captain Nate's house. Grace undid and redid her scrunched-up bun—a nervous habit.

“I'll go,” said Jim.

His wife gave him a quick, grateful smile. Captain Nate made her feel uncomfortable ever since the day she'd been sent to ask him to help look for her brother.

Chase squirmed lower in his seat.

“That guy freaks me out.”

“Maybe he's a vampire,” said Knox. “Maybe if he comes out by day he'll explode.”

Teddy removed the plastic baby bottle from his mouth long enough to mumble something that sounded like “Bigfoot.”

“He just likes to be left alone,” their mom explained, but she shivered a little despite the bright sunlight beaming through the windows.

“Everything's shipshape,” Jim announced, whistling happily as he got back in the car. “He'll come around later this afternoon if the weather holds.”

But the weather didn't hold. By noon, the sunny day had become an overcast one, and a bank of fog was visible on the horizon; by two o'clock the temperature had dropped ten degrees, and thick mist unrolled across the point like a heavy, woolly blanket. The boys put on fleece jackets and went to bring in more wood for the woodstove. They didn't have to be asked twice: Their mom got edgy in the fog.

They headed to the shed, where the wood was stacked. Ropes of fog drifted in front of them, gauzy tendrils hanging in the cool air.

“Look, cotton candy!” Teddy hooted, running ahead and taking big bites of air.

“Don't get too far ahead,” said Knox, his voice heavy with sarcasm. “You might get lost and we'd never find you, just like Uncle Edward!”

“Shut up,” Chase snapped at him. He didn't like to admit it, but the fog made him jumpy too. He turned by the corner of the shed and saw a shadow move across the driveway. He stopped suddenly and almost yelled. Knox walked right into him.

“What the heck?”

“Shhh! I see something,” whispered Chase, gesturing with his chin. “Over there.”

Knox squinted. Something dark was moving across the driveway, about a hundred feet away. He stepped back in alarm.

“I told you something was in that cave!”

A dangerous, panicky feeling rose up in Chase's chest. His lungs constricted. That thing looked bigger than a fox. There were supposed to be bears up here. If that thing was a bear, Teddy would look like a snack-size Snickers. Chase's chest began to whistle. He sucked at his inhaler.

“Get Teddy!”

“Where is he?”

“Out there,” Chase gasped between hits.

“I'm not going out there! TEDDY!” Knox bellowed, slamming himself flat against the side of the shed. He pulled the cap gun out of his pocket and raised it like he'd seen guys do in the movies. “COME HERE!”

“What are we going to do?” asked Chase. His breath was raspy. He took another puff.

Knox waved the cap gun in the air. “If it comes closer I'll scare it off with this! TEDDY! Where is that kid?” His hair was wet with drops of condensed fog.

Chase backed himself up against the shed alongside Knox. He hated to admit it, but Knox might be right. If it was an animal, the cap gun might work. The brothers crept slowly along the side of the building, listening for all they were worth. Whatever it was, it was getting closer.

Knox pulled the trigger; the caps exploded next to Chase's ear.

“HOLY CRAP, KNOX!” Chase yelled, painfully cupping his ear. He flung open the shed door and threw himself inside. Knox lurched on top of him and they fell, sprawling, to the ground. They slammed the door and sat with their backs against it, chests heaving.

“What about Teddy?” Chase panted, feeling that familiar skunky feeling—the one that told him he was a coward.

“I don't hear any screaming or flesh-ripping, so he's probably fine,” joked Knox.

“Great, really great.”

“You go out and get him if you're so worried.”

Chase sat silently for a moment, considering the facts. Safe behind the door, their fear outside seemed a little premature. Plus, the inhaler had worked and his lungs were relaxing.

“We don't even know what that was; it could have been Dad for all we know.”

“That was definitely not Dad.”

“Then we have to go get Teddy. He's only six!”

“Be my guest,” Knox said. “Why don't you do something yourself for a change.”

A bomb detonated in Chase's brain. He leapt on Knox, shoving him hard. Knox retaliated by landing an expertly aimed fist into the small of Chase's back. Chase managed to hit Knox's thigh. Knox grabbed Chase's knees and pushed, knocking him flat, and then pounced. He was shorter, but almost as heavy as his brother. Chase thrashed beneath him, trying to turn over or toss him off. Knox held both his arms down, taunting.

“You fight like a wuss, Chase. It's no wonder those guys wanted to beat you up.”

Chase spit at him; the gooey wad of saliva dropped back on his own cheek. Knox laughed. The door to the shed opened with a creak and they froze.

“Chase? Knox?” called Evelyn's voice. “I found your brother.”

She pushed the door open wider, letting in thin strips of fog and a rush of cooler air. Frankie and Teddy stood right behind her. Teddy took one look at his brothers and launched himself on top of them. Chase shoved him off and wiped his cheek. He was embarrassed to be caught losing a fight to his younger brother—by Evelyn and Frankie, no less. Knox punched Teddy in the arm.

“I told you not to run ahead.”

“He didn't go far. I found him right by the road.” Evelyn shrugged, looking at Chase. “Our grandmother said you wanted us to come over?” A half-question.

Chase glanced at her. In the low light of the shed, Evelyn's brown eyes were very dark and shiny. Her face was framed by strands of damp hair, and her coppery brown skin was bright, even in the dimness. She wore a knitted navy blue sweater with frayed holes at the elbows and faded jeans. Frankie had on a rain slicker and a pair of brown corduroys that were a size too big. Her pink high-tops stuck out beneath her pant cuffs. Both girls looked cold.

“My mom wanted to meet you,” said Knox, standing up, putting on his cool-guy voice. He flicked his fingers through his hair, making the fringe stand up. “We were just getting wood for a fire.”

He moved to the woodpile and grabbed at a few logs, trying to lift them as if they weighed nothing at all.

“We can help,” said Evelyn, walking stiffly over to the pile and extending her arms to be filled. “Do you play cards?” she asked, directing the question at Chase.

Chase jumped up, brushing himself off.

“You're from Haiti?” he blurted stupidly.

“We are,” Evelyn replied. Her tone was blunt, but she kept her eyes on him.

“What do you think of it here?” he asked, placing a log into Evelyn's outstretched arms.

“It's cold—and we don't have any friends,” Frankie interrupted.

“That's okay; neither does Chase,” said Knox.

Chase rolled his eyes. “You're so not funny, Knox.”

Evelyn shrugged. “We haven't met many other kids until you, that is true. But then, we don't go to school. Our grandmother teaches us everything, so we don't see many other people, you know? It's really different where we come from.” She lowered her enormous dark eyes briefly and then raised them again, meeting Chase's.

He felt something small and fluttery take flight in his chest, but this feeling didn't tighten like an asthma attack. It simply hovered and flew off.

“But I—it's not bad—I mean, we like it here,” she continued, warming a little. “My grandmother is very kind. People are happy. There's no fighting, no guns.”

Knox whipped out his toy. “I have one. It's just a cap gun; it doesn't shoot bullets. It's more like a firecracker.” He passed it to Frankie who passed it to Evelyn. She gave it a once-over and then handed it back with a funny expression on her face.

“What?” asked Knox.

Evelyn shrugged again. “In Haiti, guns are not toys.”

Knox put the cap gun back in his jacket pocket, chagrined. There was an awkward silence.

“But it is useful, no?” Evelyn added, quickly. “Especially in the fog? That's how we found you.”

Outside, Grace was calling the boys' names from the back door. Knox cracked the door and peered out. The fog hung thick and close, obscuring any landmark. Chase glanced at Evelyn from under his bangs.

“Just so you know, my mother gets a little crazy in the fog. Don't take it personally.”

Evelyn gave him a quick nod of understanding. Chase felt a change in the air between them, a relaxation. Evelyn didn't need to be told about families that had a hole where a person was supposed to be.