The House of Wood (18 page)

A loud ringing filled the night
air. Something in my pocket vibrated.

In all the terror, I had
totally forgotten about my cell phone. There it was ringing, as if
nothing else had happened. I don't know whether it was fear, but
the normalcy of it made me chuckle.

I reached into my pocket and
pulled it out. It was Nathan.

I pressed the answer button.
“Oh my God, I…”

The words trailed off, and the
phone dropped to the floor.

“Hello,” the young girl said,
the bright red stain on her dress more visible this close up. “It
doesn’t hurt.”

“W-w-what doesn’t hurt?”

Lilly slowly raised her hand,
pointing behind me.

The last thing I could
remember, was the butt of the knife slamming down on my head.

“Sweet dreams, sugar pie.”

I hit the floor. Then
nothing.

Chapter
Eighteen

“There has to be more to it
than that,” David said, eating his last morsel of food. “What
happened after that?”

“Please, don't make me do any
more. I can't remember much else.”

“We've already had this
conversation. It's better for you to finish.”

Rachel just sat there. It was
beginning to feel like a tug of war with him. Why wouldn't he just
take no for an answer? It wasn't as if it was life, or death. Not
anymore. It was in the past and best left there. The clock on the
wall said it was almost eleven o'clock. She needed a breather.

“I’ve just got to go to the
ladies room.”

“Okay. I'll be right here when
you get back.”

She didn't know whether to be
comforted, or afraid by his words. There was something in them. Did
she detect a hint of threat? Ignoring it, she made her way to the
bathroom.

The bright fluorescent lights
dazzled her, as they twinkled off the perfectly white tiles lining
the walls. She sighed as she bent over the sink and looked at
herself in the mirror.

Things were becoming far too
complicated with David wanting to know every little detail about
memories from a night that had long ago been forgotten. She didn’t
want to relive it. Once was more than enough. But he was
relentless. There was no way she was going to be able to go back to
the table and
not
finish her story. She
knew he was only trying to help her, but there was something else.
Every now and again there would be something familiar about him; a
look, a gesture, words. Something that made her feel as though she
had seen it all before. But it was impossible. They had never met
before the other day.

She sighed again, splashing
water over her face. She pushed the thoughts to the rear of her
mind. It was best to get back, have dessert and finish her story.
Once it was finished she could forget it for good. It would finally
be over. Then maybe she could pursue other things with him.

As she let the bathroom door
close behind her, she hoped Nathan and Becky were having a better
time than she was.

***

Much to Nathan’s surprise, he
and Becky were having a great time. The loud clash of the pool
balls filled the air each time a shot was taken. It was the fifth
game he had lost in a row.

“Man,” he said, leaning against
the cue. “I suck at this game.”

Becky gave him a pat on the
back, a wry grin on her face. “Not bad for a girl, huh?”

“Guess not.”

For the last hour, he hadn’t
thought about anything other than enjoying the night. He deserved
it. It had been a long time since he’d been in the place without
wanting to drown his sorrows. In such a short time, the girl
kicking his ass at pool had managed to achieve more than
councillors, medication and alcohol had achieved put together. The
weight no longer hung heavy around his neck.

“Fancy another beer?” Becky
asked, placing her cue back on its rack.

“Ummm.”

“Go on, one more won’t
hurt.”

It might, he thought. “Okay, I
guess one more’ll be fine.”

They walked over to the busy
bar and ordered a couple of drinks. Nathan was beginning to wonder
whether it really was his present company lifting his spirits. He
had already been drunk before meeting her, but managed to compose
himself. Now he could feel that familiar numbness creeping its way
back in to him; a dulling of the senses, a clouding of his vision.
Maybe he should slow down a bit? He contemplated. He knew he
wouldn’t.

“Can I ask you something,
Nate?”

He put his beer glass down. “Go
for it.”

“When you were younger, did you
have a thing for Rachel?”

Rachel again. Why did it always
come back to her? No matter how hard he tried to run, he couldn’t
get away.

“No, not really.”

“Are you sure? It’s just…”
Becky let the sentence trail off. “You know what, forget it. It’s
stupid.”

“No, go on. What was you going
to say?” Nathan asked.

“It’s just, when I mentioned
that she’d gone on a date with David, you seemed to get really
jealous. I noticed it the other day at the bed and breakfast as
well.”

Nathan laughed. “Don’t be
ridiculous. She’s just a friend. I don’t want to see her getting
hurt, that’s all. Our beloved Doctor Cochrane isn’t all he’s
cracked up to be.”

“What do you mean?”

“Let’s just say, he has a few
skeletons in his closet. And I don’t mean the kind that they
practice on in medical school.”

“He seems nice enough to me,”
Becky said.

Nathan took a huge gulp of his
beer. The glass was already half empty. “Anyway, I don’t have any
feelings for Rachel.” He jumped down off his bar stool. “Do you
fancy going for a walk?”

“In this weather? I don’t think
so.”

“It’s getting really stuffy in
here.” He pulled at his t-shirt collar. “Don’t you think?”

“I hadn’t really noticed.”
Becky gave him a concerned look. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m peachy.”

“Okay, well I’m going to go to
the bathroom. Maybe you should get some fresh air?”

“That’s a great idea. I’ll do
that.”

Before Becky could even say
another word, Nathan had staggered off in the direction of the
door.

The cold air hit him full in
the face, as he wobbled over to a nearby bench. At least it had
stopped raining, he thought. He breathed in deeply, hoping to get
rid of some cobwebs. He had to stop. Bad things always happened
when he was drunk. It had been drink that had screwed his life up
in the first place. If he hadn’t been on it that day the call came
in about the shooting, then things might be different. He had let
himself down. He had let the department down. If his father hadn’t
been the sheriff, then he probably wouldn’t even have a job. It had
taken him a long time to prove to his Pa that he could do it and
that he was over it. Ever since then he had been living a lie. One
that was getting harder to cover up. Everything was going perfect
so far with Becky, he didn’t want to blow it with her. Not now.

Usually, he was a functioning
drunk. Somebody that could pass themselves off as sober, even if
they were so inebriated that the world felt like it was spinning
around them. But for just a minute, he had felt like losing
control, letting everything go. Just like his father used to when
he was a kid. He came home from school one day, his mother black
and blue. When he had asked what was wrong, she’d told him Daddy
had got mad, but Mummy had deserved it. They said alcoholism was
genetic. Maybe it was? He thought. But he would never let it get
that bad. He prayed he would never let it get that bad.

***

Nathan closed the front door as
quietly as he could. He wanted to smash it, to pretend it was that
guy Justin’s head. He hated him for taking Rachel away. They had
all gone up to the house and left him. He had watched them leave,
hiding himself away in the bushes. His blood had boiled over to the
point where he had gone and sat in the park, the blackbirds his
only company. Rachel was his. She had always been his, ever since
his Ma had passed away. He couldn't think of a single moment in the
time, when she had ignored his advice. It stunk. They can all go to
hell, he thought, going deeper into the hallway.

It was always dark in his
house. The lights hurt his Pa’s eyes, especially if he'd had one
beer too many. No doubt he was passed out on the sofa right now, he
realised. His ears strained, listening for the low growl of drunken
snores. It was silent. Maybe he was still at work? He thought, his
fingers crossed behind his back. He had been lucky once before. But
he could never be too careful. It wasn’t a good idea to make his Pa
angry, not at this time of night.

He stood there for a few
moments, waiting for a sound. There wasn't one. Not wanting to
tempt fate, he kept his footfalls light on the shaggy rug that
stretched the length of the hallway. His hands were trembling. The
fading bruises on his back felt raw again, as if they remembered
what happened the last time he broke curfew. That had been a trip
to the ER.
Fell down the stairs, didn't you?
Stupid boy, never looks where he's going, Doc.
Nathan had
seen the doctor’s face; knowing and yet powerless to offer any form
of salvation. He'd seen it so many times before with his Ma. Mr
Ross is a respected member of the community, Nathan realised. No
one will ever stand up to him.

His feet stopped, before
climbing the short staircase. He had to be sure. There was still no
sound, no light. Nothing. He let his building anxiety subside.

One step.

He has to still be at work.

Two steps.

Three steps.

Thank God for small
mercies.

“Why are you late?”

The deep voice made his blood
run cold. His Pa had been skulking in the kitchen all along.
Waiting like a predator. Every instinct Nathan had was screaming at
him to bolt up the stairs, jam his bedroom door shut and sit tight
until the storm passed. But he couldn't move. All he could do was
stand there and wait for the onslaught.

“I asked you a question, boy.
Why are you late?”

“I-I -“

“Are you a retard?”

Nathan could smell the
alcoholic fumes coming towards him. “N-No.”

“Then stop stuttering,” his Pa
said keeping his voice level.

He was on the bottom step now.
Nathan could hear him undoing his belt buckle.

“I’ll give you one last chance,
son. Why are you late?”

“I-I’m sorry, Pa. It won’t
happen again, I promise.”

“You may be eighteen, but you
live under my roof. My rules.”

Nathan still couldn't see
anything, as he stepped backwards up the stairs. His Pa was within
striking distance. The smell of yeast on his breath was so strong,
it almost made Nathan gag.

“Your mother used to make
promises that she knew she wouldn't keep. You know what I did to
help her keep them?”

Something inside Nathan woke
up.

“Don’t you dare talk about Ma.
I know what you did. She gave you everything and you treated her
like dirt, beating her like a dog until she killed herself. Well
you won't break me.”

“Wanna bet?”

He felt the sting of leather
bite into the exposed flesh on his arm, milliseconds before the
sound of the slap filled the hallway. Then another. And another.
Several missed, as he dodged side to side. He was too angry to be
afraid now. He kicked his leg up in the direction of the smell. A
grunt, followed by several dull thuds in quick succession announced
that he had knocked his Pa down the stairs.

Had he killed him? He wondered.
He hated his father with a passion, but he was still his blood and
Nathan was no murderer. He stopped for a few moments. No, he was
alive. Soft murmurs hovered up to his ears. He bolted to his
room.

Locking the door, he dragged
his dresser across to act like an extra barrier, before slumping
down to the floor, his head tucked between his knees. He felt sick.
He clutched at his arms to stop them from shaking. No doubt it was
the adrenaline, he realised. He had never stood up to his Pa, no
one had. It was the strangest feeling; full of victory and yet
poisoned by a dull sadness. If only he had stood up to him sooner,
then maybe his Ma would still be around. They would be a
family.

Time slipped past. He had no
idea how long he had been sat there. The last thing he had heard
from downstairs was the fridge door opening and then an audible
chink of glass bottles. He obviously wasn't hurt bad, Nathan
realised. For an instant, he wasn't sure whether he was happy about
it, or not. There was only one person he could talk to. He didn't
care if it interrupted her or not.

He reached into his pocket and
pulled out his cell phone. He dialled Rachel’s number. It rung a
couple of times before she picked up.

“Oh my God Nathan, I…”

Then it went dead.

“Hello, Rachel. You there?
Rach, pick up.”

Nothing.

“Rach?”

His stomach dropped.

“RACHEL!”

***

It was the last time Nathan’s
Pa ever touched him. And one of his last memories of Rachel. He
turned his eyes up to the sky. Everything in his past was entwined
with hers. He was sick of it, tired of the memories and of people
asking him about her. Yes, he had loved her, but this was the
second time she had chosen someone else over him. It was time to
move on.

The fresh air had done some
good. He stood up, feeling a lot steadier on his feet. He took one
more deep breath, letting it out slowly. Then he returned to the
bar.

He saw Becky sitting down at a
table. He gave her a smile.

“You feeling better now?” She
asked.

“Much better. Not sure what
came over me.”

“We can call it a night if you
want? I can make my own way home.”

Nathan gave her a serious look.
“Look missy, you’ve beaten me five games in a row. Do you really
think I’m going to let you go that easily?”