The House of Wood (3 page)

***

Neither of them had said a word
since the incident on the road. Rachel had just sat in the
passenger seat, watching the world blur past the window. Every now
and then a familiar landmark or building would fall in her eye
line, stirring her back to life. She couldn’t believe the house had
survived. As hard as she tried, there was no pushing the old
forlorn building from her thoughts. It was a mistake to come home,
she realised, but there had been no avoiding it; she was an only
child, so it was down to her to sort out the funeral arrangements.
They were her parents after all.

Becky had been brilliant since
the incident, not asking questions, or losing her temper. Rachel
realised she had a good friend sitting next to her and she owed her
a proper explanation for her actions at least. But how could she
explain the impossible?

“Are you cold,” Becky asked. “I
can put the heater on?”

Rachel hadn’t even realised she
was shivering. She smiled. “No thanks, I’ll be fine. The bed and
breakfast is only a little further down the road.”

Within five minutes, the black
Ford Focus pulled up in the gravel courtyard of the only bed and
breakfast in Willows Peak. Rain drops gently fell from the dense
grey clouds blanketing the moon. Becky hopped out the car and began
unloading the trunk.

“You going to help, or are you
sleeping in the car tonight?”

“Gimme a sec, okay?” Rachel
replied.

She needed to get her thoughts
in order before facing the next few days. So what if people
recognised her? It wasn’t as if she had done anything wrong; she
was the victim in it all. At the funeral, familiar faces would be
unavoidable. It had all happened three years ago and the past
couldn’t hurt her now, she reminded herself.
But
the damn house
. She couldn’t shift the sense of dread she
felt at seeing it standing there, as if nothing had happened.

A tap on the window shattered
her reverie. Becky’s face beamed back at her.

“Come on Rachy-Bear, let’s get
inside.”

Rachel followed her friend up
the few brick steps and in to the quaint little building.

Stepping inside was like going
back in time. The reception room looked like a movie set for a
1930s film, with its yellow walls, oak staircase and black and
white photos dotted sporadically around the walls. Along one wall
was a dresser, covered in a beautiful lace doily. On top, sat a
blue vase with a bunch of perfect, white lilies.

A little old lady shuffled in
from the living room. “Can I help you girls?”

“We’re looking for a room, if
you have one?” Becky informed her. Rachel stood quiet, not wanting
to draw any of the woman’s ice cold attention.

Mrs Ryan glared at the two
girls, squinting as she did so. “I only have the one room and it’s
one-hundred and twenty dollars per night.”

“What? That’s way too
steep,”

“I’ll give you a ten percent
weekly discount. Take it, or leave it?”

Becky turned to Rachel. “What
do you think we should do? There must be somewhere else we can
stay?”

“There isn’t. The nearest town
is Merryville, but even that’s miles out. It’s this, or the
car.”

“So, you’ll be wanting the room
then?”

“Yes please,” Rachel
replied.

Mrs Ryan smirked. “I’ll fetch
the key. Wait here.”

She shuffled back off in the
direction of the living room. Rachel felt like she had been in a
blender. It had been a rough day and all she wanted to do was go to
sleep; she could do without the old dragon making things difficult
for them.

After a few moments, Mrs Ryan
returned. “Here we go. It’s room three, straight up the stairs and
to the left.”

Becky took the key and started
to make her way up the wooden staircase. Rachel followed close
behind. She had made it up three steps, when she felt a tug on her
wrist.

“I know your face,” Mrs Ryan
declared, looking in to Rachel’s eyes. “Are you from around
here?”

“Y-y-yes, I am. I lived on the
other side of town. Long time ago now.”

“I see. There was a fire over
there a short while ago. Nasty business. The papers say it was
arson.”

“Well, don’t believe everything
you read,” Becky snapped, pulling Rachel’s other arm.

“Wait, I know who you are now.”
Mrs Ryan let go of Rachel’s wrist as if she might catch some awful
disease. “You’re the young girl from the news a few years back. You
had some trouble out at the old farmhouse. Now I don’t want any
nonsense from you two while you’re under my roof. Is that under
-“

“Look, I don’t mean to be
rude,” Becky cut in. “But we’re tired after a long drive. So, if
you don’t mind, we’ll be going now. Come on, Rach.”

The two girls left Mrs Ryan to
watch them with disdain, as they made their way to room three.
Becky closed the door gently behind them.

“God that witch is awful. Are
you alright?”

“Yeah I’m okay, just tired,”
Rachel replied.

“I’m really sorry, but I have
to ask, what happened to you here? Does it have something to do
with that creepy old house? I’ve never seen you so afraid
before.”

“I’m sorry, Becky, but I’m
really tired and would rather not get in to it right now. All I
want to do is avoid any more drama and get in to bed.”

“Okay, but only if I get the
left side.”

Rachel feigned laughter. Her
mind was several miles outside of town, as she undressed and got
under the covers.

“Night, Rachy-Bear.”

“Goodnight.”

Her mind was still at the house
long after she had fallen in to a fitful slumber, full of spectres
from a past she had long suppressed.

Chapter
Three

“We therefore commit their
bodies to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust;
in the sure and certain hope of the Resurrection to eternal
life.”

A chorus of
amen
rose from the gathered mourners. Rachel watched
as her parent’s coffins were lowered inch by inch, into the dark
pit in front of her. She wondered why they were bothering; it
wasn’t as if her parents were actually in there. The police had
told her that her parent’s remains had been ‘removed’, as there had
been very little left to bury. But it had been insisted in their
will that they have a full ceremony. So, here she was, playing the
obedient, loving daughter.

She looked up at the faces
standing around the graveside. Becky was standing next to her,
resting her hand on Rachel’s shoulder. She was glad her friend was
there for support. Every now and then, she could feel eyes boring
into her skull. She didn’t recognise many of the people; a few
Aunts and Uncles, some old family friends, but that was it. And
even those she did recognise gave her nothing but scornful looks,
or avoided all eye contact completely. Nobody wants to associate
themselves with a crazy person, she realised, as the coffins landed
with a final dull thud. It was just the way she liked it; no
awkward moments, or any people offering her pity. She would just
get the funeral out of the way and then go as far away from the
town as she could. In a way, she was thankful that she would never
have to come back to Willows Peak ever again. The place held too
many memories of that night.

After the priest had said his
final words, the mourners shuffled away. Etiquette decreed that
Rachel be the last to leave. She waited with Becky until the final
person had left, before wandering over to the priest.

“Thank you Father, it was a
beautiful ceremony.”

“Your parents will be sorely
missed on a Sunday. Such tragic circumstances. Have the police
found the cause of the fire?”

“They said no one could have
prevented it, just one of those things,” Rachel replied, her voice
almost catching on the words. “It was faulty wiring that started
it.”

“My thoughts and prayers are
with you, Miss James. Will you be staying in Willows Peak for long?
It would be nice to see you in church?”

Rachel noticed the raised
eyebrows. She smiled. “I don’t think so, Father.”

The two friends continued
walking toward the cars. A gust of wind blew the fallen leaves
across the field, creating a patchwork of browns and oranges.
Rachel closed her eyes and let the tension in her blow away on the
breeze. The silence of the afternoon filled her.

“Are we heading to the wake?”
Becky asked, snapping her out of the moment.

“I suppose I should.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t
want to. I can go back and -“

“For God’s sake, stop fussing
over me,” Rachel yelled, wrenching her arm free. “I need to do
this, they’re my parents not yours.”

“Okay, there’s no need to snap
at me. I was only asking.”

“Well don’t, alright?”

“What the hell is wrong with
you? Ever since we got here you’ve been different.”

Rachel walked off. She didn’t
bother to look back; Becky would follow eventually. She was used to
Rachel’s off moments by now. It wasn’t fair that everybody just
assumed she was too frail to cope. Well screw them all, she fumed,
they would just have to get over it. She had.

“Rachel, stop, please tell me
what’s wrong? I’m trying to understand, but I can’t.”

She spun on her heels. “Oh I
don’t know, maybe my parents died? Just maybe I didn’t get to…” She
stopped short, taking a deep breath. “Just forget it, okay. I’ll
see you at the hotel.”

“Aren’t you coming in the
car?”

“I feel like a walk.”

Rachel had begun walking away
over the windswept cemetery before she had even finished her
sentence. Her arms hugged her tight, as she walked head down, back
to the sleepy little town. The rain was beginning to pour now. Her
umbrella sprung into action. Everything was so hard being back
home. There was so much anger and frustration that she thought she
had buried, sprouting to the surface like dead flowers coming back
to life. She knew it was out there, looming in the distance. There
was just no way to block the thought of it from her mind, not now
that she knew it had survived the fire.

“Hey gorgeous, need a
ride?”

The familiar voice startled
her. She stopped in her tracks not realising that she had already
made it to the outskirts of town. She turned to look at the
car.

“Hey Rach, you alright?”

“Nathan, what’re you doing
here?”

“Ummm, I live here. Remember?”
Nathan chuckled. His warm, dark brown eyes, smiled at her.

“I just thought you would’ve
been long gone by now?

“Nah,” Nathan, replied looking
straight ahead. “I’ll be here until they build a monument dedicated
to me.”

Rachel returned the laugh.
“Well you’re one person I didn’t expect to see.”

“I could say the same about
you?” Nathan’s eyes softened. “I’m sorry to hear about your
folks.”

She dropped her eyes to the
floor. “So am I.”

There was a moments silence
before she spoke. “So, what do you do these days?”

“I pick up young, drenched
women off the street.” His boyish grin had returned. “I’m a deputy
sheriff now.”

“Oh wow, followed your Pa’s
footsteps then?”

“Yeah, it was a natural
progression.” There was another awkward silence. The rain was
pouring now. “So, where’re you headin’? I can give you a lift.”

“Oh, ummm, it’s okay, I could
do with the walk.”

“Hey, it’s a torrent out here.
Nobody likes getting wet. Hop in.”

Rachel lowered her umbrella and
did as she was told. It was just like old times, as the two drove
off in to the rain.

***

Sad faces filled the reception
room of the bed and breakfast, as the guests reminisced about the
past and the tragic circumstances under which Mr and Mrs James lost
their lives.
Could’ve happened to anyone; they’ll
be missed; it’s such a loss
. Rachel did her best to be the
perfect host, keeping herself busy by carrying around platters of
food and making sure people had coffee, or in some cases, wine. She
knew they were talking about her. Gossiping about what happened.
Seeing Nathan after her years of self-imposed exile had lifted her
spirits a little. He had been very fortunate.

She looked out over the
gathering, searching for him. Thin, wispy grey clouds hung over the
heads of the smokers like haunting spectres. A shudder crept up her
spine, as she remembered the smell from that night. Fire seemed to
be a constant in her life. Now it had killed her parents.

“You alright, Rach?” Nathan
asked, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“You’ve gone really pale.”

“There you are. I’ve been
looking for you.”

“Have you now?” he replied, a
slight rising of his eyebrows pulling his face in to a cheeky grin.
“What can I do for you, ma’am?”

“Take me away from here,” she
replied staring at nothing in particular.

“Not enjoying being back in
sunny Willows Peak then?”

“I’d rather be anywhere, but
here.”

“I don’t blame you,” Nathan
replied, taking a sip from his coffee. “Not after what you went
through.”

Rachel shifted uncomfortably.
“Don’t you start.”

The two of them stood for a few
moments just watching the crowd. Light filtered through the net
curtains of the rear windows. Rachel could see Becky talking to Mr
and Mrs Phelps in one corner of the room. Every now and then she
would look up, giving Rachel a look as if to say,
are you okay?
Each time, Rachel replied with a smile
that said,
I’m fine
. But she wasn’t. Far
from it. She could feel the tension rising in her like a crescendo
of a chaotic, classical piece. Every time she tried to force it
down, it came back with a vengeance.

“I am sorry you know,” Nathan
said, breaking through the silence that had built up like a wall
between them.