Let's Play in the Garden (17 page)

Simon’s dresser held an antique clock with a glass door on it, an oil lamp probably not used in twenty years, a few red handkerchiefs, a pipe, and his own jewelry box, which contained a little bit of everything, but mostly junk.

The walls sported many pictures of plants and flowers, some paintings, some photographs. There were a few strange antique iron or copper statues around the room…a horse, a ship—her flashlight picking out the tarnish on them—and finally a king-sized bed laced with ruffles of white and rose, where slumbered the occupants of the room.

Enough observing. Merydith knew it was time to fetch what she’d come for…the keys!

She at last had decided to break one of the strictest laws of the house. She wanted to see what was in Grandpa’s workshop. She wanted in; she wanted to see the place that had given birth to the garden. She knew all the answers were locked away there, just screaming to get out. Simon buried himself down there time and time again, and surely he had a place for the keys to those cellar doors. It would most likely be close to him, so what better place to start than his bedroom?

She crept to the closet and eased the door open—it squeaked slightly. Merydith paused, and listened. All was well.

The flashlight breeched the cavernous darkness of the closet, and she discovered it to be divided in half. The left half Gladys’s, a variety of flower-patterned dresses, hand knitted shawls, nightgowns, house coats, shoes she never wore, hats and bonnets she never wore, and the right half Simon’s with his trademarked flannel shirts, rugged pairs of jeans, overalls, painter’s pants, suspenders, ties he never wore, and stunning suits she’d never seen him in

Her hands slipped deep into the pockets of all Simon’s clothes but came up empty. Just to be safe, she searched Gladys’s clothes and all of their shoes. Still nothing.

She eased the closet door closed again, and with a deep sigh, Merydith squirmed…a moment later panic set in as Grandma Gladys turned slightly and yawned.

She froze and gawked at her grandparents. The old woman’s arms twitched and then went motionless again.

Sweat beaded on her brow, and with some relief she wiped it off and turned her attention to Simon’s dresser.
Of course! Why didn’t I think of it before
?

His junk box. It was a quick, simple, and easy place. She was drawn to it immediately and opened it. She could barely see the inside of it, but rustled her hand through it, feeling old coins, tie clips, screws and bolts, watches, matches, tobacco, and, at last, wonderful keys. In her palm, she grasped a key ring of perhaps half a dozen keys. They jingled as she tried to steady her trembling hand.

Simon suddenly stirred beneath his covers and turned on one side to face Merydith. She stared into his face, and could have sworn his eyes opened.

She was paralyzed, her mouth going dry. Her heart jumped all over her chest. Yet he remained silent and unmoving. He could not have seen her. Surely, he would be on her by now?

She left the room as fast as she could without causing a racket, rushed downstairs and to the front door. She put her face to it as she twisted the doorknob in her sweaty hands
. Unlock it first, dummy!

She unlocked it and then twisted it opened. The cold rushed to hold her back but she threw herself into the night, icy fingers slapping her face, but she pressed on.

It was so cold and bitter, biting cold hurting her, lashing her, tearing at her skin and face. The skies were gray and frightening.

Hurry, fight the deadly cold, unleash the cellar secrets. Hurry!

She worked her way around the side of the house to the awaiting workshop doors. She shivered as she touched the doors. They were ice to her and she pulled back her hands in pain as the keys fell from her grip.

She searched the ground for them, panic-stricken, lost, terrified, freezing…the beam of her tiny flashlight of little help.

Finally, her fingers found them again just as the wind started to pick up and lashed at her unmercifully. It felt like whips, striking her bare flesh. She shivered uncontrollably from head to toe, stumbling to her knees. Her eyes watered as she looked up at the cellar doors, rivers of tears now streaming down her red cheeks.

Ignoring it all, she crawled to the doors and gazed at the keys in her hand. She had to try each and every key and find the lucky one through a process of elimination. She plunged one key in. but it would not budge. She prayed the lock had not frozen in the cold weather.

She tried another. Nothing.

Finally, on the third try, she heard a click, and the key turned twice, the doors now unlocked! As if to christen her betrayal of family, it began to snow. The first flurries of the season. White powder began to sprinkle over Merydith with the generosity of a sandstorm.

Weakness struck her as the snow fell. She tried to bring herself to her feet, but could not. Instead, she grabbed the cellar door with both her arms and pulled.

The door eased open so slowly it was as if time had stopped, the wind and snow worked against it, nearly preventing its motion. She leaned her face into it and the room stretched out. M
y God!

The room reeked with foul odors that were foreign to her. She’d never smelled anything like it before. A dark flight of stairs descended into a void, and she could hear a faint bubbling and gurgling noise, or so she thought.

It was difficult to tell with the snow and winds became fiercer, whipping and tearing at everything.

Finally overcome by the snow and cold, Merydith let go of the door and it slammed shut with force. She had grown too weak to fight anymore. She collapsed in the snow, nearly blacking out but somehow crawling up against the cellar doors, feeling along the icy wood and finding the keyhole again.

She would cover up for herself or die trying. Finding her key, she put it in and locked up the cellar and used the doors for leverage as she pulled herself up.

Merydith forced herself against her grand house so she didn’t lose her balance and pulled herself through the raging wind and snow, reaching the porch again. She fell again on the porch as the wind and snow continued to beat at her unmercifully. She reached for the door with a jittery hand and pushed it open, crawling into the warm house and easing it shut behind her. Now was not the time to wake the entire house. How would she exlain this?

As her eyesight cleared, she wiped the snow from herself and, still shaking, went upstairs and placed the keys back in Simon’s box.

She closed her grandparents’ door softly and dragged herself down the hall to her room. Her bed awaited her, and she fell upon it hard, passing out from weakness and exhaustion, still clutching the flashlight in her hand.

Her first attempt was a good one, but luck was against her. This time they’d gained victory.

15. The Deep Dark Cold

Snow came to Willington more than once. Due to that, no one had ever found out about Merydith’s attempt at seeing the workshop. Recent snowfall covered her tracks from that night.

Thanksgiving was at hand and Marion found herself shopping at Garreth’s for the celebration feast.

She rose early that morning to catch a ride with Simon to school. Tobey was still sick and unable to return to school. He was even too sick to leave his bed. The family hoped he would be well enough to attend the Thanksgiving dinner.

Marion walked down the aisles of the food mart searching for the right things to bring home to Gladys. She and Gladys would be working on this meal for hours.

“Garreth, these yams are the largest I think I’ve seen in your store,” she remarked.

“Well, that’s nice,” Garreth answered with disinterest.

“Of course, they’re nothing compared to the ones that grow in Simon’s garden at home,” she said.

Garreth’s face grew pale. “Please, Marion, just get what you came for and leave.”

“That’s what I’m doing, Garreth Hickley. No need to get all flustered when I speak of Simon and his brilliance.”

“It’s not brilliance, it’s corruption,” Garreth said, losing his patience. “It should be destroyed. It’s a mockery and an abomination. You’ll pay for it, Marion. Everyone in your family will pay for that corruption, and all the other deeds you’re all responsible for.”

“What deeds?” Marion responded, shocked.

“Oh, stop, Marion. The town isn’t blind. We know the police have been to your house. We know what’s going on. Everyone does. It’s only a matter of time before you’re stopped. And nature has its justice, too—a justice more terrible than any man could imagine.”

“Those are mighty harsh words, Garreth,” Marion replied. “But you and everyone in this town haven’t the understanding that Simon has. You all may think you know what’s going on, but believe me, your tiny minds could not begin to fathom it.”

Garreth went silent, having no desire to argue further. He had said all he wanted to say. They all spoke of the justice that would reach the Santaneens, and it was not far away. “Are you ready now, Ms. Santaneen?”

“Quite ready. I do believe this will be the best Thanksgiving feast yet,” she said with a crooked smile.

Marion carried the sacks of groceries out to Simon, who waited in his truck. She waved to Garreth in sarcasm, who turned away from the store window. She wanted to laugh, but held it in, a small part of her wondering if Garreth’s words had any truth to them.

###

Gladys carried another hot bowl of chicken soup to the suffering Tobey. He just lay in his bed, buried under heavy covers and blankets. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead as he shivered and shook, his body even paler than it was before.

“Here, Tobey, eat this. It will help you,” Gladys said as she set the tray in front of him.

“I can’t, Grandma. I just can’t eat anything. I’m too sick,” he answered, his voice weak and strained.

The sound of the door opening thumped from downstairs. Simon and Marion had returned. Their bundles were placed on the kitchen table as they went up the stairs to check on Tobey.

“He won’t eat,” Gladys said with concern.

“Tobey, you have to eat or you’ll only get sicker,” Marion urged.

“Mother, I can’t. I only throw it back up. I’m cold, Momma. I’m so cold. Please make it go away, please.”

He trembled violently now and there was blue discoloration around his teeth.

The three adults gathered together.

“We may lose him,” Marion said. “He’s simply not as strong as Merydith. This year is the worst it’s ever hit him. He’s too weak and young to fight the weather and seasons.”

“No,” Simon spat. “I will not allow it. I will not allow a third failure. We lost the first one, and then we lost Aaron. I will not lose another. He will live. He does have the will. He does have an immune system. He will live!”

“Look at him, Simon, he’s suffering,” Gladys said nervously. “There must be something we can do.”

“There is. This is what the panels are for,” Marion said. “Help me lift him.”

Simon and Marion went to Tobey, eased his covers off, and gently Simon hoisted him into Marion’s arms. She carried him over to the solar panel in his room. A wide curtain of sunlight rained down upon them for the first time in weeks. Bright, pure and magical as an elixir, it blessed them as only it could.

Tobey twitched and quivered in her arms until slowly steadying himself. The light filled them both. Great warmth enveloped them, encased them in a healing bubble.

Marion hummed softly into Tobey’s ear. His eyes remained closed as he tightened his arms around her, latching on for security. He had completely stopped shivering and the sweat was dissipating.

Moments later, she walked him back to his bed and gently lowered him into it. “Gladys, bring Tobey up some more medicine and a big glass of orange juice. He’s going to be just fine.”

Gladys did exactly as Marion said.

Tobey now had a smile of hope upon his face. Something wonderful had happened, but it frightened him at the same time. He wondered how that was possible. He knew it couldn’t be normal, but he was glad for it just the same.

###

Days passed and Tobey stayed home from school a little longer despite ridding himself of his illness. Thanksgiving had arrived and there was no point in sending him back to school until it was over.

The house filled with the aromas of fresh vegetables, pumpkin pies, and plump roasting turkey. Gladys and Marion worked all night and all morning on a feast fit for a king. They prepared mountains of stuffing, mashed potatoes and yams. They simmered and stirred sauces, gravies and puddings. They made their own fresh cranberry sauce and squeezed their own juices. Just about everything was from scratch.

“Merydith! Tobey!” Marion called. “Dinner is ready!”

Merydith put six more pieces into her puzzle before going down for dinner.
Nearly finished now…nearly finished
.

She walked downstairs and saw Tobey’s head just vanish down the steps before her. The turkey sat upon the table when she entered the kitchen. It looked mouthwatering as steam still rose from its perfectly browned body.

The table was set beautifully with the most pristine white tablecloth, and sparkling glasses and dishes picked up the dazzling sun. The silverware was actual real silver as it was every year at Thanksgiving. The room simply glowed.

Merydith thought it felt just like old times, as if nothing strange had been going on. As if everything was completely normal.
What a good job at putting up a front
, Merydith thought.
Such a clever disguise
.
If you were an outsider, you’d never know the fear and bizarre happenings that plagued this house and family.

They all gathered for dinner, and Simon said the prayer, as was tradition, of course. He began by thanking the Lord for their food and their family and for their health, and finished with blessing the garden.

They ate as if everything was normal as could be, right as rain. What could be possibly wrong here? It was a beautiful family scene, the picture perfect family Thanksgiving starring…the Santaneen freaks.

Merydith gazed around the room until her eyes rested upon an empty chair at the table. There was no place setting there, just a space on the table and a chair.