The Watchers (2 page)

I turned at the sound of keys rattling; they
were loud even over the wind, which was blowing crisp air around us
in fitful gusts. Ellen’s hands were shaking so badly she was having
trouble getting the silver key in the lock. Taking pity on her, I
took the keys and put the proper one in the lock for her, offering
a smile for courage. She gave me a grateful look and took a second
to stop her trembling. With another deep breath, she turned the
heavy latch and pushed the door open slowly, as if she expected
someone to jump out at her and yell “boo!” Each step she took on
the wood floor was as if she was threading her way through a
minefield, her sneakered feet tentative and unsure. A sudden roll
of thunder from behind us made her jump, freezing her momentarily
in place. When she was sure it was safe, she started walking again,
and finally crossed the threshold of her childhood home. I followed
her in quickly and shut the door behind me, cutting off the cool
wind before it disturbed the peace of the inside.

The bright, happy-looking interior was a
surprise. From my vague impressions of my grandparents, whom Ellen
didn’t talk about very often, I had thought the whole place would
be decorated in grey and black to reflect their unforgiving and
unbending natures. Perhaps the decorator had not always been so
unforgiving? Or had different hands decorated the room?

On the left of the front door was the living
room. The furniture, though bright and clean, was old and
mismatched, collected piecemeal through years of hand-me-downs.
Though antiques, the furniture was in perfect condition; a little
too perfect. It felt neurotically decorated, as if all the
furniture had been arranged until it was in the perfect spot.
Another archway led off from the living room, but I couldn’t see
anything beyond where I was standing. I figured it was the dining
room. Wide wooden stairs that bridged the first and second stories
were directly in front of me, and separated the living room from a
narrow hallway on the right side of the front door. The hall, which
followed the length of the living room on the opposite side of the
stairs, had two doorways along the right side. The first entrance
was shut off by a heavy wooden door, but the second was broad and
open, and from what I could tell, led into a bright, airy
kitchen.

My eyes roved around everything in a
repeat, absorbing what I had missed. Despite it being beautiful,
bright, and elegant, everything having its proper place – line and
form merging seamlessly – there was a definite air of neglect
hanging around, like it hadn’t been lived in for years rather than
months. The cobwebs in the corners, and the dust motes hanging in
the air from our entrance, only added to this feeling. With my mind
on the décor, and the feelings that this place had been abandoned a
long time ago, I followed the hall to check out the rest of the
house, and almost ran into Ellen. She had stopped abruptly next to
the kitchen door. With one trembling hand, she touched the wall
where a large photograph hung.
I can’t
believe they didn’t take this down, that was the year…

“You okay?” I asked.

I put a hand on her shoulder not liking the
tone of her thoughts, or the way she was trembling. Memories which
correlated to the picture floated across my eyes, but they went by
too fast for me to make sense of them. She turned to me, and in her
face I could see how painful it was for her to be in this
beautiful, neglected, house. Her pain was startling. “I’m fine!”
she lied.

She suppressed the emotions I saw swimming in
her eyes, but her thoughts betrayed her. Time in this house was the
only thing that would make her ‘fine’. As we looked at each other,
a silent understanding of this fact created a bridge of
understanding. Ending the moment, she grabbed my hand.

“Here.”

With childish abandon, she started running
down the hall, dragging me after her. Still holding on to me, she
ran me up the stairs by the front door. Laughing at my laughter,
she dragged me to the last door in a long hallway of doors. The
upstairs was less open than the downstairs, but had a definite air
of comfort the downstairs didn’t have. It felt more lived in and
less like it had been abandoned.

The white door we had stopped in front of had
stenciled flowers along its edges and worn places along the bottom
from years of opening and shutting. It definitely looked
well-loved.

Ellen released my hand and gestured grandly.
“I promised you an awesome room as part of moving here….so, here it
is.”

I opened the heavy door curiously and saw
another set of stairs leading up only these were narrow and dark. I
gave her a skeptical look, remembering the promise she had made,
not able to help the doubt that a bedroom could make up for this
hiccup of a town.

“Go on!” She pushed me forward to get me
moving.

Everything was dark wood – the slanted
ceilings, the floors, even the trim around the windows yet, it was
open and bright due to the large windows on either side of the long
room. Heavy beams supported the angled, cathedral ceiling, giving
me plenty of head room, adding to the sense of space. It was
perfect. No. It was beyond perfect.

As I crossed the creaky floor, marveling at
the architecture, a window seat running the length of the large
windows urged me to sit down and enjoy the view it offered. Unable
to resist, I leaned across the cushions – dust swirling in the air
in response – and looked out the window. I spied a small backyard
that was bordered by a forest of trees. It wasn’t the ocean, a city
street, or a rooftop, but it would do.

I smiled, glad to be so high up, and sat down
on the bench, so I could focus on the rest of the room. A few boxes
were scattered around, but mostly, it was empty, except for a
large, forgotten bed in the far corner, and a brick chimney, which
was in the center of the room. Ellen went over to the bed and
plopped down familiarly. The grey light filtering in from the dirty
window opposite me cast strange shadows on her face. The pain was
still etched in her round face, but she smiled, changing the
darkness of the shadows dancing on her face.

“I hope you don’t mind using my old bed.” She
patted it fondly causing another puff of dust to circle in the
air.

“I don’t mind in the slightest.”

Like that mattered to me! I would have space
– this room was larger than the entirety of our last apartment –
and I would have privacy. While I didn’t mind being around Ellen,
privacy was something I always enjoyed and craved – especially
lately.

“Do you like it?”

Her thoughts rushed about the space in
chaotic waves as she tried to focus on the present and suppress the
past. One thought in particular caught my attention.
Please say it’s good even if you hate
it
,
I need something to be
good for you here
.

I smiled at her, genuinely pleased that I
didn’t have to stretch the truth. “I love it. It almost makes up
for moving.” I raised an eyebrow at her. “Almost.”

She jumped off the bed, her good humor back.
“I’m glad!” She raised an eyebrow at me. “Almost.” She hugged me
fiercely and kissed my cheek, a silent thank you for being here for
her and for ending my reign of the scowl. “I guess we’d better get
the things out of the car before it starts to rain,” she added.

“Yeah,” I agreed, already moving to the
stairs.

We passed through the house silently, and I
felt Ellen slowly unwind, something about our conversation relaxing
her. At the landing of the first floor she was almost back to
normal, normal enough to be worried about her stomach.

“I’m starving,” she said as we walked out the
front door together. “What do you say to Chinese?”

“They have takeout here?” I asked
skeptically.

“Of course they do. Just because this is a
small town doesn’t mean it’s archaic!”

I turned and looked at her in disbelief. She
laughed as she walked around me to unlock the trunk of the wagon.
“Okay, okay! They have takeout at least.”

“Great!”

As I unloaded the car, and Ellen talked in my
ear to keep my thoughts off tomorrow, I could feel the neighbors’
eyes on me, following my every movement. I didn’t have to stretch
my imagination very far to wonder what these steadfast, unchanging,
country folk thought of the strange looking Punk girl moving in
next door. I knew for a fact what they were thinking. I sighed and
lugged another bag onto my shoulder thinking that in any other town
I would be invisible.

After I finished piling everything into the
living room, Ellen ordered Chinese food as promised, and we put on
the Chiller Channel to “Evil Dead,” one of our favorite movies. We
laughed over the horrendous special effects and made fun of the
actors as we ate our better-than-expected food.

When we finished dinner, we started the
process of unpacking and cleaning. It would take weeks, really, to
make this place feel like a home again, but after a couple hours of
hard work it began to look like a real house rather than the
forgotten memory of one. The cobwebs and dust motes were gone, at
least.

After I had arranged my room with some
spare furniture from downstairs, and cleaned off the dirty windows,
I went to the window seat and looked out into the darkness. Ellen’s
thoughts were dimmed by the floor separating us, and for the first
time in hours I had a reprieve from my curse. I was just starting
to relax, managing to forget about my anxiety for tomorrow, when I
heard a much different thought than Ellen’s. It was rough, filled
with excitement.
She’s here! It
worked!

I sat up, the strength of the voice alarming.
I craned my neck to see below. Was someone trying to break into the
house? Dark shadows cast swaying branches on the abandoned dark
lawn. There was no one. Yet, the voice continued.

Lady Cassandra will want to
know…
The eager voice trailed away.

I waited for a moment, straining to hear
more. The sudden silence was repressive. Strange…I rubbed at the
goose bumps on my arm and put my feet on the floor, adrenaline
surging through me. Should I call the police? I laughed at the
thought, and shook my head. And tell them what? I heard a scary
thought?

Searching for an answer in my large room, I
caught sight of the alarm clock by my bed. My stomach sank around
the weirdness of the thought I’d just heard. It was time for
bed.

As I brushed my teeth in the small bathroom
at the other end of the hall, I realized I wouldn’t get much sleep.
It wasn’t a pleasant prospect to look forward to but pacing around
would only keep Ellen up. She had an important day tomorrow, too.
It was her first day at the law office where she would act as
secretary for the same lawyer who had tracked us down to tell us
about the will. His old secretary had quit during his search for
us, and he had told Ellen the job was hers if she decided to move
back. I had thought it funny he would hold a job for her, but the
blush in her cheeks when I asked her about it was enough to let me
know that Sam Lawson, lawyer to the people of King’s Cross North
Carolina, and Ellen had a longer history than I had thought.

I said goodnight to Ellen, trying to hide how
upset I was about tomorrow, and went upstairs to dwell as quietly
as I could.

I crawled into bed and listened to the sound
of rain whooshing through the night air for a while. Here, at the
apex of the house, the rain seemed very close, almost as if there
were no walls separating me from the storm. I would never have
admitted it to anyone, but it was a bit scary how the shadows
stretched the length of the long room, how the trees made odd
shapes on my walls, and how the rain, aided by the chilly wind,
tore angrily into the side of the house. With the neglect I had
noticed earlier, and the shadows that danced around my room, it
felt as if I was in a haunted house. It didn’t help that Ellen was
acting haunted by being here.

For the first time since driving into this
tiny, God-forsaken town, I felt my emotions threatening to unravel
and betray me. Not able to stand it, I threw off the covers and
went over to the window seat, figuring if I could see the trees
that were casting shadows on my walls I would calm down long enough
to get some sleep. I didn’t hear any more strange thoughts coming
from my lawn, just the rush of wind and popping of wood.

As I sat there looking over the swaying
trees, my knees tight against my chest, I came to the resolution
that I wouldn’t let this place, this town, beat me. I was stronger
than that.

I pressed my head against the frosted glass,
not knowing what to expect but resolved in the knowledge that one
way or another I would deal with it.

I always did.

Chapter 2

My night was miserable. When I finally got
tired enough to fall asleep, I dreamed of getting to school late
and kept going into the wrong classrooms. No one would tell me
where I was supposed to be and all the other students stared at me,
judging me with their cold, uncaring eyes. It was enough to make
anyone wake in a cold sweat.

As I lingered over breakfast, chewing over
the depressed thoughts as much as my cereal, Ellen came barreling
into the kitchen, searching frantically through all the drawers. I
whistled in appreciation when I saw her, and grinned at her pink
dress suit. Her messy brown hair was pulled back in an elegant bun,
and I even detected a bit of makeup on her perfect face.

“You look hot, Mom!” I told her.

She laughed, preoccupied with whatever she
was looking for. “I feel ridiculous!” She turned to me, her wide,
round eyes perplexed. “You haven’t seen my keys have you?”