The Possession (6 page)

Aunt Dwill seated herself and patted the sofa for me to sit beside her. She indicated the wingback chair to Mr. Philbrook. We both dutifully took our seats.

Though she wasn’t touching me at all, strength radiated from Aunt Dwill like heat from a fire. I sat a little straighter, absorbing it, and returned Mr. Philbrook’s direct gaze.

Now that I could study the man, I could see little whispers of Zach in him. Though his eyes were darker, they were framed by the same eyebrows. The nose was a bit sharper, but his mouth the same shape.

The kind light that shone in Zach’s eyes sparked in his dad’s, too.

Mr. Philbrook leaned forward, one forearm on his knee. “Can you tell us what happened to Zach, Daphne?”

I took a deep breath. “No. Not really. It all happened so fast.”

He looked at his hands for a moment, leaning back and clasping them in his lap. His gaze shot to Aunt Dwill. With a slight tilt of his head, he pinned that gaze on me. “Were you two fighting?”

It was like a slap. My face went auburn.

“No! No way. We were—”

I cut myself off. My face now surpassed the color of my hair. In fact, my neck flamed, too, and sent a ruby haze down my arms.

“Excuse me.” I stumbled to my feet and flew from the room, but I couldn’t leave. I crept back. Pressed against the wall behind the door, I listened.

“For heaven’s sake, Jay. I told you—”

“I know what you told me, Edwilda, but you’re kidding yourself. It’s not friendship. I can’t believe you’d encourage this.”

My chest tightened. I struggled to control my breathing so that they wouldn’t hear, and moved closer to the doorway.

“It was already too late. They saw each other in town. And even if they hadn’t, he was on his way here. They were going to meet.”

“This is crazy. Superstitious nonsense.”

“Then why are you so concerned?”

I wedged my face to the doorframe and peered, one-eyed, into the room. Zach’s dad crossed to Aunt Dwill where she stood before the fireplace. He stopped so close to her, but Aunt remained in place, facing him.

“You and I are proof, Edwilda, that it’s just a stupid legend.”

His words were firm, but his expression! He looked just like Zach when he spoke of his mother. Like Aunt had when we talked about Uncle Jack. Aunt Dwill reached up and placed her hand against his cheek.

“No, Jay, you stubborn fool. We are proof that it isn’t.”

“Eddie . . .”

Something strong and powerful and not meant for others to witness swirled through that room and spilled out into the hallway, uncontained. My heart started thundering in my chest. I slid from behind the door and raced from the keep.

The hospital’s main lobby receptionist told me Zach was in Room 307. The housekeeper snapping new sheets tightly on the bed gave me a rueful smile. “Nope. You missed him. They left about an hour ago.”

I drove the pickup out of the visitors’ lot and turned it toward The Barrens. That was the nickname given the development area where Micmac Indians like Zach lived. Zach’s mom was Nova Scotia Mi’kmaq but his dad, Maine, so they’d returned here after she died and settled near family. The land had been given back to The People when they gained federal recognition. The original name on older maps was Barrett’s Acres.

The Barrens was probably more accurate. Maine’s infamous underlying bedrock, close to the surface in that area, made the land difficult to build on. Not considered the best buy in town, but, being part of the land that once belonged to the Micmac Tribe, they willingly accepted it.

‘As a start’ is how Aunt Dwill put it. She knew a lot about it because their land abutted the lighthouse land.

I knew Zach’s street. I’d looked up his address that first day we met. Aunt said Mr. Philbrook worked hard around their property and with anyone else there who needed help.

It was evident. I pulled up in front of a neat, well-groomed yard with a tidy plant border along the short driveway. Zach’s mother had put in mostly perennials so that Zach and his dad didn’t have to worry over it, but his grandmother still put a few annuals in every spring.

Some kids playing a sidewalk game gawked at me all the way up the front walk. I rang the bell, eyeing the wicker swing on the porch that looked suspiciously like something Aunt Dwill—no, Eddie—would have picked out.

The door opened a crack. An elderly woman pinched her eyes together at me. “Yes?”

“Is Zach home?”

She frowned.

“The hospital said he’d come home. I’m a friend.” And in case he’d mentioned me, “Daphne Wentworth.”

A small smile creased her lips and she opened the door. “Come in.” As I went to pass her, she leaned out the door. When I looked back toward the road, in the same direction, I saw the kids had now lined up along her front fence.

“Ejiglateja’sit.” The old woman waved a hand at them. It sounded like
ij iggle ah teg ah sit
. “Shoo!” she called again, scattering them in shrieks and giggles.

She winked at me.

We entered the front room. Bright, airy, sparse, guys, those were the first four words that entered my mind. The bright and airy would probably be Gram’s work. I wondered if she lived here or just visited often. I would discover later that Gram had her own place. The bright and airy was Mr. Philbrook’s doing. A holdover from when they lived in Nova Scotia. He was a logger and an eeler there. A landscaper and handyman here. He needed the light and space.

Zach entered from a door on the far side of the dining room, most likely the kitchen. He slid his plate and glass onto the table, almost without looking, his eyes fastened on me.

Gram eyed us, one to the other.

Zach nodded to me and addressed his grandmother. “The pharmacy called. Your medicine is ready. Want me to go get it?”

His grandmother frowned. “You aren’t to go anywhere.”

“Daphne will drive me.” He shrugged. “No big deal.”

I listened and kept my face neutral.

His grandmother, mumbling under her breath, crossed to a plush rocker in the front room and lifted her purse from beside it. “I’ll go get my medicine. You, Zach,” she eyeballed me hard, then him, “will behave while I’m gone.”

Zach nodded solemnly. As his grandmother pulled keys from her purse, he motioned me to sit across the table from him. He slid into his seat. “We’re good.”

She came to my side, eyes drilling. I smiled my most cooperative smile. “I’ll make sure he behaves.”

She grinned at that, her eyebrows then narrowing in a mock frown at Zach, and left.

A motor revved in the driveway. As the sound ebbed Zach rose from his seat. I stood. He strode around the table and wrapped his arms around my shoulders. I threw my arms around his waist and hugged him to me. His grip was so fierce, I thought I would lose my breath.

“Daph.”

The single word, whispered against my hair, made my whole body tremble. A warning. A call.

But as Zach buried his face farther into my hair, his arms slid toward my waist and his shoulders began to shake.

“Zach! What’s wrong? Zach?”

I tightened my hold.

His hands roamed up my back and onto my shoulders. He pressed his forehead to mine. After a deep breath, he stroked the waves of my hair away from my face and peered into my eyes, “You’re still okay.”

“Yes.”

He pulled me against his chest, securing me there. He started to rock, his breaths deep.

“What happened, Zach?” He was scaring me. “What happened at the beach?”

The rocking stopped.

A car turned into the yard. Too soon for Gram to have returned. Zach released me and all but shoved me into the chair as he reclaimed his own. He slid his glass to me and jammed some chips into his mouth. The door swung open. I gulped from the glass.

Mr. Philbrook filled the house.

I’m sure we both looked guilty as hell.

His father took a visual tour of the area and returned to us. “Daphne.” He nodded with a polite smile. I guess I’d been forgiven for running out on him last night. “Where’s your grandmother, Zach?”

“Hi, Mr. Philbrook,” I acknowledged.

Zach shrugged. “She went to the pharmacy to get her stuff. I said I’d go, but she wouldn’t let me.”

“Good.”

He tagged Zach’s shoulder with the back of his hand as he passed and disappeared into the kitchen.

“I really should get going. How ’bout if I call you later?” I asked, pushing his glass back to him. He took a swig and shook his head.

I wrinkled my nose at him, confused and a bit hurt.

“Is your aunt going to the town meeting tonight?” he asked.

“As far as I know.”

He placed the glass back onto the table and stood, motioning me to do the same. “Dad! Daphne’s leaving.” He nudged me toward the door. Mr. Philbrook came in from the kitchen.

“Good bye, Daphne. Nice of you to check on Zach.”

Zach held the door open for me and followed me onto the porch. “Yeah, thanks for coming by. That was nice.”

He delivered his lines perfectly, standing near the open window, and presented his hand. I placed my palm to his, deflated at this sudden turn of events.

He squeezed my hand and leaned in. I offered my ear, expecting he had something private to say. He kissed it. His grin at my shock made me smack him mid chest.

“Seven-thirty,” he murmured with barely a flinch. “Reading Rock, at the line. You know it?”

“Yeah. I—”

“Meet me.”

*    *   *

Aunt left for the meeting at seven o’clock. The night was warm and I couldn’t wait any longer, so I headed out on foot. The air cloyed, almost muggy, but not thick enough to drain your strength. Rowdy tried to follow me, no doubt mistaking the light throw I packed into my bag as a picnic signal. I finally locked him in the keep.

The dark slate blue of the night sky, crystal clear, revealed good weather ahead. Not a cloud marred it. Faint stars began to show through, pinning it in place. By the time true darkness fell a zillion stars would pierce it. The effect mesmerized. I think that’s one thing I missed most the rest of the year . . . the ability to look up into the night sky and see brightly cut stars stretch for miles without the distraction of street lights.

Once I got to the road from the keep drive, I struck off to the left. About an eighth of a mile of deserted road awaited.

The lighthouse beacon flares every four seconds. Shadows flashed around me, keeping time. It creeped me. Walking alone by the murky woods was not my idea of a fun time. Zach waited at the end of my trek, though, so I continued on. A nonsensical song stuck itself into my head and I hummed to myself.

The bell on the cemetery gate sounded.

My feet froze in place. I peered into the deepening gloom of the woods, but the cemetery wasn’t visible from here.

Why had I left Rowdy behind?

My heart ratcheted up a notch. Could sound travel that far? My feet broke free of their moorings.

“Who cares?” I said aloud, hoping even my own voice would make me feel not quite alone.

Then I ran.

I ran all the way to the narrow unmarked lane, the beaten path to Reading Rock. Flew down the path, checking over my shoulder, almost losing the bag that had a flashlight and blanket inside. What was I thinking, agreeing to this?

What was I thinking, what was I thinking . . . my feet beat out the new tune as I raced along.

Reading Rock loomed suddenly, perhaps because I was looking back as I rounded the bend. I wondered if I could make my way up the side of the massive rectangular stone in the dark and conceal myself in the huge glacial split that gave the rock its name.

My hands scoured the nearest surface, looking for a toehold.

“Daphne.” His hand clamped my shoulder. I spun around to confirm his identity as I swung my bag at him. He blocked it with his forearm. “Jeez!”

“Zach. Thank God.”

“What’s the—”

“Someone’s coming,” I hissed, cutting him off. “Help me climb up here.” I turned my attention back to the rock. Zach pulled me back around.

“Someone followed you?”

“Yes! I don’t know. I-I think so.” My voice caught.

“You can’t go up there in the dark. You’ll get wedged. Come on,” he ordered.

There were myriad trails that ran out from Reading Rock. Zach took but a moment to make his choice and we were off.

The path twisted and turned a lot at the beginning then straightened. We slowed, quieting in our flight. Zach stopped suddenly and stepped off the trail.

“This way.”

About eight feet from the path, a building appeared. A small stone house of sorts.

“No way, Zach. I am not going in.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not.”

He lifted a stone from the ground beneath the single narrow window and pulled a small waterproof pouch from underneath it. A skeleton key, shaken from the pouch, fell into his hand.

“Want to stay out here and see if whoever it is finds us?” he asked.

I grabbed the back of his shirt and followed him in.

He left the door open, allowing the light from the rising moon to show the way. After he settled me in the back room on a narrow straw mattress-type bundle on the floor, he headed back to the door to secure it.

“What if—” I called, uncertain in the unfamiliar.

“Shhh! There’s a door to your right. If anything happens, we can still get out.” He said no more, just continued back to the door we had entered by.

The wind picked up, the sound of leaves lashed about, eerie in the dark hollow stillness. The cobblestone walls seemed to enhance and echo the sound.

Once Zach shut the door, we were plunged into darkness. I heard him feel his way through the gloom. I couldn’t see him at all, not even a snap of movement, but heard him breathe in the dark.

I turned to the sound, to my left, my voice hushed. “What is this place?”

“A hunter’s lodge,” he whispered from the right.

The brain cannot deal with eyes opened in pitch blackness, unseeing. It refuses to believe that nothing is visible, and will drive you insane in its insistence.

My eyes widened, straining. The warmth of Zach’s body emanated from my right, though we weren’t even touching. To my left I felt the cold draft of an empty room.