Dreadful Sorry (26 page)

"She said she wanted to look taller," Abner said suddenly, his hands gripping his bony knees. "She always wore her braids up high. I worshiped the ground she walked on—" He broke off.

"All you kids seemed to love her," Molly told him. "Well, Anne wasn't so affectionate, but all you others were jumping on her all the time, asking her to play with you—"

"I always begged to go down to the harbor to see the boats," he said, his eyes staring across the room. Molly knew he wasn't seeing her and Jared at all but was looking back in memory to happy times with Clementine. "Sometimes we went to my favorite place—the secret cave." He fell silent.

Molly's heart raced. Everything he said corroborated things she had seen or dreamed. Here was proof that the girl was letting Molly see scenes from her life. What Molly still couldn't figure out was
why.
And not knowing made her afraid.

Then Molly's words seemed to register with Abner and he jerked his head up to stare at her. "Hold on just a second. What are you talking about, girl? Are you saying you saw me and my brothers and sisters in your dreams?"

"Well, in my visions," said Molly. "Yes. I don't understand it, either."

Both women were staring at her, frankly fascinated. Abner was clenching and unclenching his hands on his knees. Molly looked over at Jared and felt reassured by his nod.

"I saw this girl in my dreams," Molly tried to explain. "But in the visions, it was as if I were Clementine. Looking out of her eyes."

"
You
were Clementine? Nonsense!" Abner's voice sounded strangled.

Molly hurried on, determined to tell him what she'd seen, determined that he would at least hear about it all. "It was as if I were looking out of Clementine's eyes, as if I knew the things she knew and felt what she felt."

Abner's face had grown very pale. Molly spoke gently, glancing toward the doorway to see whether the nurse were nearby. "In some of the visions you were wearing a little felt cap—you were very sweet. Clementine played pirates with you up in the playroom. You had a wooden sword." She felt a sense of unreality as she remembered the boy Abner—at the same time speaking to the man Abner, grown so old. "Clementine was just finishing school, and she was totally miserable because she wanted to go to college. She had big fights with your parents about it. But they said she had to work in the kitchen with Janie and look after all you kids as well. She hated all the work. I think she did more work than Janie and Miss Finch put together."

"Janie! Miss Finch!" cried the old man, hands clenching and unclenching now on the arms of his chair. "I haven't heard those names in nearly a century. How could Gracie Wilkins tell you about them? She never even knew their names. They were long gone before I started courting Gracie."

Molly sighed. "I'm trying to tell you, Mr. Holloway. Miss Wilkins didn't tell me these things. I
saw
them. Ghosts or visions—or something. I've seen Clementine at the house, and I've
been
Clementine at the house and also out on the headland and in town. I know now I've been dreaming about her for as long as I can remember, back in Ohio—where I live when I'm not visiting my dad. I've seen her in mirrors, too."

"Then you must be a crazy girl," Abner said, now smiling horribly. His teeth were stained and yellowed. He struggled to stand. Jared rushed to help him, but Abner shooed him away. "Any little girl comes in here and says she's turned into my cousin Clementine—why, I'll tell you what that means. She's off her rocker. Maybe it's drugs!"

"I am not on drugs." Molly sighed. She signaled Jared: They'd better leave now. This was going nowhere. Molly could see out the window that it had started to rain. She did not relish the prospect of driving back along that narrow road in a thunderstorm.

"You're on drugs or else stark-raving loony!" Abner shouted. "Clementine was kidnapped years and years before you were born. If she's dead, it's because the kidnappers killed her. She never had a chance to escape because if she could have gotten away, she would have come back to me. She promised. She promised!"

"I'll get the nurse," said Sarah from her corner. "He starts carrying on like this, you know it's time for his pills." She reached over to the table and pressed the intercom buzzer.

"Thank you for talking to us," said Molly politely to Abner as the nurse hurried in with a brown prescription bottle, announcing that Mr. Holloway needed his medication now and would be taking a nap afterward. Jared and the nurse eased Abner into his chair again, and the nurse popped a pill in his mouth. Abner gulped the water she offered him, then subsided with his eyes closed.

Molly and Jared said good-bye and started walking out of the lounge. They had reached the receptionist's desk when they heard a voice behind them.

"Children, wait a moment."

They turned and saw Thelma in her wheelchair rolling after them. They waited for her.

"He's not always like this," Thelma began. "Most of the time he's as rational as anyone else. I don't know what it is you're seeing or dreaming, honey, but I do know that Clementine Horn has a powerful hold over Abner and always has had. Whatever it was happened so long ago, I can't see how it matters to anyone—but it sure does seem to matter to Abner. He was so betrayed, you see. I think he's been waiting for that cousin of his all his long life. Couldn't hook up with that Grace woman he was engaged to because he kept thinking Clementine would come back someday. Months can go by and he's fine, but comes along any little mention of Clementine, he starts talking about kidnappers again. We had a folksong sing-along one night last winter—some of the folks here have a really good little band—and one of the fiddlers started playing that 'Oh my darlin" song—you know, about the girl called Clementine? Well, if that didn't set Abner right off. He stood up and hollered she wasn't 'lost and gone forever' at all because the kidnappers stole her away, but she'd be coming back as soon as she could. Of course, even if there had been kidnappers, which I don't believe for a second, the girl was twelve years older than Abner anyway and would be dead by now in any case. But Abner, no, he can't bear to hear it." She paused and looked up at them. "I just wanted you to know because—well, he's a good old fellow, Abner is, as long as you don't bring up the past."

Sarah, the woman who had been crocheting, walked out of the lounge in time to hear Thelma's last comment. "You've got a thing for old Abner, haven't you, Thelma? You can't hide it from me!" She smiled at Molly and Jared. "I'm sorry you had to see him like that. The receptionist should have warned you not to talk about Clementine Horn. He always falls apart."

"That's what I was just telling them," said Thelma.

"Well, he's gone up for his lunch and a nap,' said Sarah. "You'll see, he'll be right as rain this afternoon."

A crack of thunder made them all jump "Did you say rain, Sarah?" Thelma grinned.

Everyone laughed. Then Molly and Jared thanked the women and said again they were sorry to have upset Abner. They stepped out into rain falling in sheets and raced for the van. Inside, they sat silently for a few minutes, listening to the pounding water on the roof, each lost in thought.

Jared broke the silence: "Well, that was useless."

When Molly spoke, it was hard to hear her over the rain, and Jared leaned close. Molly's lips curved in a smile. "It wasn't totally useless. You saw how rattled Abner got when he heard what I'd seen. It was all true, everything I saw. We don't know what happened to Clementine, and we don't know what she wants from me—but at least we know I'm not imagining all this."

"Maybe that's been your big worry, but it wasn't mine. I just want to know how we can figure out what all the weirdness means—and get it to stop. And we still don't understand a thing." He looked out the window and frowned. "My big worry now is getting back to Hibben. I don't think the cliff road will be very safe in this weather."

"Then let's stay here till it stops," said Molly. "We can go eat lunch somewhere and wait it out."

"I have to get back. I work at one o'clock." He shifted in his seat. "Let's hit the road—but take it slow."

Molly started the van and headed out along Benson's narrow streets. The windshield wipers, on high speed, cut a blurry swatch through the downpour of rain. Molly leaned forward to see better, but the going was very slow. With the windows up, the glass grew cloudy. She turned on the defroster and cracked her window. Water drizzled in through the crack and blew in her face. "This is terrible, Jared!"

"You can say that again," he said and pointed.

She squinted out the window to see what he meant. The road to the right, the only road leading back up the hill to the cliff, was blocked by two police cars. Police officers were lighting flares and laying them in the road to keep vehicles away.

"Oh, no." Molly clenched her hands around the steering wheel.

Jared wound down his window and leaned out, ignoring the rain that pelted his head. He shouted over to the police: "What's going on?"

"Road's closed! There's a rockslide about a quarter mile along the way toward Hibben," one officer called back. "This rain just washes the hills into the sea. It's dangerous. Better take the ferry, if it's still running."

Jared pulled his wet head inside again and shut the window. He turned to Molly with droplets glistening silver on his lashes. "What can I say? Police orders."

Molly pressed her forehead to the steering wheel. She felt like screaming.

"Come on, Molly. It's perfectly safe. I told you, I'll hold your hand the whole way." Jared's fingers massaged the back of her neck. "With pleasure."

She gritted her teeth as rain pelted the van. She followed the line of cars back into town, down to the wharf. She wasn't afraid of boats, she told herself; she was afraid of the substance they floated in. "Probably the ferry isn't running anyway. Not in a storm."

"This isn't a storm," he said. "It's just rain. Anyway, let's go see. Drive down to the wharf. If the ferry isn't running, I'll have a perfect excuse for my boss. But if it is—then we're getting on it. All right?"

Slowly, windshield wipers on high, Molly drove the car down Hill Street to the wharf. There were several cars ahead, all waiting to drive up the ramp onto the ferry docked at the pier with its doors like a giant mouth open to swallow the vehicles. She unrolled her side window and paid for their tickets. Then she drove smoothly up the ramp and parked on the bottom level of the boat. Out of the rain now, a silence fell. The people from the other cars were all getting out and climbing the steps up to the passenger deck. Jared reached for Molly's hand and squeezed. Without speaking, she followed him.

Upstairs, she had to admit the ferry seemed solid. It rocked gently across the waves once they'd pulled away from the Benson pier. Jared sat next to her on the padded wooden bench inside the windowed cabin. She had chosen a seat that did not look out over the water. There were only a few other passengers—mostly tourists with small children, who stood at the windows or outside on the covered deck, enjoying the ride despite the rain. Molly could hear the great engines churning beneath her.

After they had traveled halfway across the choppy water of the cove, Jared stood. "Let's go outside," he suggested. "We won't get wet if we stay under the overhang."

"You go right ahead. I'm sitting here until we land."

"
Dock,
you mean. This isn't a plane."

"Believe me—I know it." She crossed her hands in her lap and closed her eyes.
So far, so good,
she thought. She allowed herself a little thrill of pride. She was here on a boat in the middle of the cove, and she was all right. Holding in the panic, but all right. Still, there was no sense pushing her luck. If she set foot outside, the sight of the sea might ruin her careful control.

Jared shrugged. "I'll only go out for a minute, then." He stepped out onto the deck.

As they churned across the cove, Molly was increasingly aware of the dark, deep water all around. The fluttering in her stomach grew stronger. She looked out at Jared through the glass door. The rain was still coming down but drizzling now rather than pouring. Jared was leaning over the railing, staring out at the water and at the cliffs along the shore. As she studied his back, the hollow feeling expanded. She stood and walked to the glass door. As she pushed through the door and stepped out onto the deck, the buzzing hum started up in her head.

Somehow he looked so familiar, standing there that way, hands on the railing, head lifted into the wind. She remembered seeing him just like that once before—only not in broad daylight with the sun high overhead breaking through the clouds. She had seen him in moonlight, leaning over a railing. She remembered how the moonlight illuminated his face as he heard her coming and turned, remembered how her heart leapt in excitement and gratitude that she hadn't missed him after all, that he had waited for her.

Somehow Clementine's sheer determination to be away from that house of horrors propelled her shaky legs down the rutted lane to town and through the late night streets. She headed straight to the wharf, pausing only a moment at the corner of Cotton Lane to wonder whether Hob were back home already, tucked up in bed while she braved the night wind. She was already more than twenty minutes late. She might have lost him.

She breathed deeply as she walked, smoothing her skirt with her palms and reaching up to repin her braids securely. If he were there, she wanted to look neat and presentable, someone he would want as a bride. Someone he would take across the cove without delay.

She passed the office where Uncle Wallace worked and saw a light burning. Through the uncurtained window she could make out the shape of Mr. Wallings, her uncle's bookkeeper, working late at his desk to record in his ledger the amount of fish each schooner in the Holloway Company had brought in that day. He wouldn't have news, yet, of what had happened up at the house.

Her legs throbbed and her eyes ached. She must not think about the house.