Authors: Marc Buhmann
“I don’t know. I’d be lying if I said I did.”
Beth nodded in understanding and looked away at the changing leaves. “This was always Elliott’s favorite time of year. The Peak, he called it.” She smiled. “Every year around this time we’d take a drive in the country, make a day of it. All the back roads winding through the woods, along the river. It reminded him of his youth he said.” Her smile fell and she bit her lip. “Is it true what you said? About not remembering?” Beth looked at him expectantly.
“Yes.”
She nodded in understanding and gave a weak smile. “Elliott took it pretty hard that you never said anything. He figured after his letter you’d understand, let bygones be bygones.”
Perplexed, Willem couldn’t help but ask. “What letter?”
“Elliott,” Beth said slowly, “he sent you a letter after your fight. He spent several nights writing it, sure that it might help with, well, whatever it was you were going through.”
“Did he tell you what was in it?”
She shook her head. “No. Just that he hoped it would help.”
Had he received a letter? He didn’t remember getting one. “Just after the fight?” he asked.
“Yes. Didn’t you get it?”
Willem searched his memory. For months after that fight he’d used booze as a Band-Aid for the memories, for the pain. Much of that time was a foggy mess. Just because he couldn’t remember a letter didn’t mean there hadn’t been one. But if he had received it what had he done with it?
Then the past began to creep back. It had been a few weeks after the fight, and he’d come home from the bar well past what a responsible person should drink, and found an envelope from Elliott in his mailbox with an assortment of other mail. The envelope from Elliott had a small object sealed within. He remembered it slid back and forth the length of the envelope. What had it been? A key! That’s right. There had been a small key in the envelope. He had ripped open the side of the envelope and dumped the key and its double-vision partner into the palm of his hand.
After that he drew a blank.
“What’s wrong?” Beth asked.
Willem offered a friendly, if not entirely comforting, smile. “Sorry. Just lost in thought. I did get the letter, but never read it. It came at a time…” He shrugged. “There was something with the letter though. A key. Do you have any idea what it went to?”
“No. I don’t know anything about that.”
“Well,” Willem said dragging it out, “I better get going. Thank you again for the hospitality, and I’m sorry. About everything.”
Beth reached around Willem and gave him a gentle hug. He tensed, but then wrapped his arms around her. “It’s okay. The important thing is that you came and the two of you got to say goodbye. That’s what’s important.” Beth pulled away and looked up into Willem’s eyes. “Should you ever want to talk you have my number. And
please
… don’t be a stranger.”
“I won’t,” Willem said. He wasn’t sure he would stay in contact, but he knew it was the polite thing to say. And who knew? Maybe he would. It had felt nice to rekindle a relationship with his family.
“Goodbye, Willem.” Beth turned and walked back to the house, never looking back. Willem stood a while thinking about his brother, the letter he had sent, the key. That god damned key. What had he done with it?
He’d make a quick stop at the hotel to collect his things, and then he’d head back to River Bend tonight. He didn’t know why, but he needed to find that key.
* * *
“Smells good,” Emily said as she walked into the kitchen. “So what’s the occasion?”
“None, really. I just know we haven’t spent much time together. I want to try to start making it up to you, so I figured I’d make one of your favorite dishes.” Claire stopped, concerned. “It is still one of your favorites, right?”
Emily flashed a reassuring smile easing Claire’s tension. “Can I help with anything?”
Claire shook her head. “No. I’ve got it. Just take a seat. Finishing up now.”
Emily did as asked, and Claire put the chicken next to bright green broccoli already on plates. She carried them to the table and sat, placing the meals in front of them. “Looks delicious,” Emily said, readying her fork and knife.
“I hope so. It’s been a while since I’ve made it.”
They each bit into the chicken, the juice teasing their palates. “Yes. This is exactly as I remember it.”
Claire smiled, proud of herself for bringing a smile to her daughter’s face. It’d been so long since she saw genuine happiness there. “I’m happy we could do this.”
“Me too, mom. It’s nice.”
This felt like a date. Had she become so disconnected with Emily she couldn’t even have a conversation with her? “Thank you for being home when I asked.”
“Midnight. Just like you asked.”
“What did you do?”
A shrug. “Hung out.”
“Just you and Billy?”
Emily inspected the chicken on her fork. “Yep.”
“So… Billy… He seems—”
Like a good-for-nothing charlatan.
“—nice. Where did you meet him?”
“School.”
Claire could sense Emily closing up, not wanting to talk about it. Still, she needed to connect, had to push through. “How long have you been dating?”
“We’re not dating. We’re just friends.”
“Okay. How long have you two been
friends?”
Claire tried to say it in a teasing way, dragging out the word. Emily gave her an “are you serious?” glance.
“A while. Look, mom, I know what you’re trying to do. I appreciate it, but it’s really not necessary.”
“What?”
“This!” Her hand flip-flopped between them. “I know your trying, but I’m just not ready. Not yet.”
“You should trust me. I want you to trust me.”
“I know I should, and I
will.
But not yet.”
This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Daughters were supposed to be able to trust their mothers, not be evasive. “I’m just… concerned. You’re hanging out with a strange boy I don’t know. I’m just—”
“Parenting. I get it. You’ve raised me to be smart and make the right decisions. I’m a big girl, mom. I can take care of myself.”
They ate in silence, their silverware clinking on the ceramic plates. It was then Claire made a decision. If Emily didn’t want to share her life with her fine, but she was going to abide by her rules.
“What can you tell me about him? What class did you meet him in? What do you do together? Who—”
“Mom! Knock it off.”
“You won’t see that boy again. Understood? Not until I meet him.”
“You’re being unreasonable!”
“You’re seventeen, Emily, and I’m your mother. I’ve let you be your own person for too long, not interfering in your life, but no more. No… I’m
not
being unreasonable.”
Emily slammed her fist on the table, the dishes vibrating. She stood and stormed for the door.
“Where are you going?” Claire demanded.
“Out.”
Claire stood and followed. “No you’re not. Until further notice you’re grounded.”
Emily whirled, jabbed a finger at her mother. “Where is this coming from? How dare you make demands of me!”
“This is my house, so it’s my rules.”
Emily’s face turned red. She retreated for the door, opened it.
“Get back here!”
“No!”
Claire slammed the door closed before Emily could leave.
“Get out of my way!” Emily cried. Claire just glared. She could see the muscles in Emily’s jaw clench. “Fuck you, mom!”
“What is going on with you? It’s like you’re not even my little girl anymore.”
“Little girl? Dad would never have treated me this way!”
“How would you know? Your dad left us when you were two!”
“I wish it had been you!”
Claire slapped Emily across the cheek. Hard.
What just happened? She’d never hit Emily before, not even a spank.
Emily turned toward her cupping her reddening cheek, tears glistening at the corner of her eyes. “Emily, I…”
Emily pushed past Claire and yanked the door open. “I hate you,” she whispered as she breezed past.
“Emily, please wait.”
Claire stopped herself from following knowing the damage was done. No matter what she said or did now would only exacerbate the problem.
She stood there in the night chill long after Emily had disappeared down the street. What had happened to Emily? It was as if her little girl was becoming someone else.
* * *
DeMarcus sat in the dark backseat of his idling car. After his meeting with David yesterday he couldn’t get the words he’d uttered out of his mind. How could she be dead when he could sense her? No… she was hiding here somewhere. He just needed to find her.
Yet he couldn’t shake the feeling David had been telling the truth. He could see the hurt and pain on the old man’s face, so he’d taken a trip to Whispering Pines Cemetery today. It had taken some time, but with the help of Paul he finally found the headstone.
He couldn’t wrap his head around it. If Lilly was dead then he shouldn’t be able to sense her. How was it possible? He seethed with confusion and anger. Was it possible there was more to the the excommunication than was known?
DeMarcus instructed Paul where to drive. He focused his senses following the dim beacon that was Lilly and found David coming out of Wood Court Homes, which looked to be a community home of some type. Maybe he was visiting someone from his past, or maybe…
He told Paul to stop. When David had driven away DeMarcus went into the building, the lobby clean and inviting. Several elderly people sat on what looked to be comfortable chairs talking quietly amongst themselves. A middle aged woman was working on a computer. She looked like she worked her.
“Excuse me,” he said. The woman looked up, her forming smile faltering.
“Can I help you?”
“I’m looking for Lilly Rottingham. I was told she was here.”
“Lilly…” she looked confused, turned to the computer and typed on the keyboard. “I’m sorry sir, but there’s no one here by that name.”
“Are you sure? Could you check again? Maybe you spelled it wrong.”
She turned back, tried different variations, shook her head. “I’m not finding a Lilly here. Are you sure you have the right place?”
He focused again and sensed Lilly’s presence dimming. Annoyed, he said, “Perhaps you’re right,” and left. Once back in the car they resumed their driving. He spotted David again, this time in Manny’s Diner. But then he sensed something else—very faint—as if Lilly’s presence was in two locations. Curiouser and curiouser. It took some time, most of the afternoon driving in circles and up and down streets, until he was confident he’d found the source of the second beacon. He had Paul park a few houses down and there they sat, waiting.
The sun had set and he was becoming anxious, was ready to go up to the house and investigate, when the door was flung open and a young girl stormed out. He didn’t understand, why would Lilly’s essence be coming from here? And then an older woman came out and somehow he knew instantly it was that damn neighbor child Lilly and her husband had latched onto. What was her name? It didn’t matter. That was who he was being drawn to; that was where he was sensing Lilly.
This woman and David.
He needed to mull this over, figure out why he was sensing Lilly coming from two people. If she was in fact dead she should have transcended back to Turmoore. Having her here…
“Let’s go,” he said to Paul. “I need to think this through.”
“Anywhere in particular?”
DeMarcus considered the question. They had found the place Patrick had talked about, the communal place for socializing. He’d enjoyed the seediness of it; the underbelly was exquisite. “That place we went to. What did you call it? A bar? We don’t have places like that where I come from, and I quite enjoyed it.”
“The Thirsty Whale it is,” Paul said, put the car in drive, and drove off.
six
Willem stood in the mess that was his bedroom. He’d pulled everything out of his closet, dumped packed away boxes out on the bed, emptied drawers, looking for the key his brother had sent him. Every other room in his house looked exactly the same, as if a tornado had blown through.
He sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed his tired eyes. He’d been at this all night, and it would probably take twice as long to put everything back, a prospect he was dreading. He again found himself wondering why he was so hell-bent on finding something his brother had sent him years ago. Was it worth getting this worked up over something he hadn’t remembered existed twenty-four hours ago?
He stood, stretched his back, and sauntered to the kitchen. A breakfast break might do him some good. He pulled open the fridge and was greeted with barren shelves. Shit. The cupboards weren’t any better, and there was no coffee. Looked like he was going to Manny’s. It was just past eleven according to his watch. Thankfully the diner served breakfast all day.