Entangled (14 page)

“Billie!” Davy called to me from the top of
the stairs, bringing my head up and my eyes wide open. “Mom says I
have to go home now.”

I struggled to my feet, tucked the envelope
inside the back waistband of my shorts and pulled my shirt down
over the edge. “I’ll be right there,” I called.

The past intrudes in so many ways. People you
never want to see again, places you hated living, regret that rears
an ugly head. Guilt, hidden and obtuse, suddenly unpacked from the
mothballs of the mind, becomes acutely painful, nearly
unbearable.

I pulled the string and shut off the
light.

~~~

CHAPTER NINE

D
avy left with his
mother, clutching the old tin container to his chest and arguing
about what constituted leaving home without permission. Margaret
shook her head and pulled him along by the hand, clearly frustrated
by his prolific imagination when it came to excuses.

The envelope pressed uncomfortably at the
small of my back, my forgotten past, like a word erased, basically
gone from sight but still smudging the page. I hurried back to the
house, not even saying goodbye to Charlie. I couldn’t face anyone,
least of all myself, glancing deliberately away from the hallway
mirror as I shut the front door. The house was quieter than usual,
or maybe it was just me, needing noise, music, something to throw
off the direction my thoughts were going.

Without conscious thought, I fled to the
bedroom. I shoved the envelope hurriedly in the top drawer of the
bureau. Beneath crew socks and t-shirts it smoldered, a packet of
latent truth ready to burst into an inferno.

The truth will set you free. My therapist had
made me believe those words at one time, and I’d repeated them like
a mantra when it hurt to speak the truth, but now such rhetoric
seemed like blasphemy. How could the truth set me free when it was
crushing my soul, incising my heart, and bringing me to my knees
with condemnation? I didn’t know if I could live with the
truth.

I turned on the shower, let it run until the
steam began to fill the bathroom, stripped off my clothes and
stepped in. I didn’t want to think. Thinking would just bring more
pain. The hot water pounded against my body, dulling my senses,
lulling my brain into weariness. Ten minutes later I stepped out,
toweled off, and crawled beneath the blankets on the bed. Sleep is
what I needed. Obscure peaceful oblivion.

Sometime later, the ringing of the telephone
nudged me awake, insistent and annoying like a mosquito buzzing
round my head. I pressed the pillow against my ears and settled
back into a restless slumber, fragmented dreams vying for
attention.

The only light in the room was the faint glow
of a nightlight shining under the door of the hallway bathroom. I
yawned and sat up, letting my bare feet sink into the thick shag
carpet. I loved to feel it between my toes. Our carpet at home was
short and rough. Mom said it wore well, whatever that meant. I
wouldn’t want to wear it. It was scratchy.

I went to the window and looked out. I could
see the tire hanging from the tree, patiently waiting for daylight,
so Handy could turn it into a magical ride to the clouds. I
squinted into the trees expecting to see something else, someone
else, but all was quiet and still.

Moving quickly, as silent as a mouse, I
changed out of my pajamas into jeans and a sweatshirt. My long hair
was a mess but I didn’t care. I pulled it back with a stretchy band
and headed for the door, impatient to be out and about. I tiptoed
down the hall and through the living room, my senses alert to every
creak of the floor, fearful that someone would wake and order me to
go back to bed. The back door opened silently and I peeked out at
the moon still glowing brightly in the sky, reminding me of cheese
and the fact that I was hungry. I grabbed a banana off the counter
and hurried out, closing the door softly.

The sweet scent of roses greeted me as I
rounded the end of the house and I stopped to press my nose into
one of the flowers, the petals, soft and smooth against my skin. I
plopped cross-legged on the grass beneath the bushes, the perfect
breakfast table, and peeled my banana.

The crunch of tires on gravel alerted me to
the passing of time. Someone was already coming up the long drive.
The morning sun would soon light up the world and my special quiet
time would be over. The workers at the winery would start arriving,
carrying lunch boxes and newspapers, shuffling in the front door
like dairy cattle at milking time. I finished the fruit and buried
the peel beneath the loose dirt in the rose beds, then stood up and
stretched. The silvery light of dawn was already busy turning black
objects to gray.

I ran across the gravel drive, scooted around
the side of the building, and pushed through the door in the back
that I knew was left open. The winery hummed with a sound all its
own. Perhaps the grapes buzzed with energy as they changed into
wine. I didn’t know, but I liked it. The pull of the cellar was
magnetic and I found myself waiting by the door, hoping Uncle Jack
would rise early and meet me here.

A hand gripped my shoulder and I turned, a
smile on my face, my eyes wide. I froze - my heart began to pound
with fear, and I opened my mouth to scream…

I sat straight up in bed, gasping for breath,
my heart pounding in my ears like a jungle drum. The empty echo of
a scream filled my mind and my eyes strained against the darkness
of the room. I turned toward the window. No light showed through
the slats in the blinds. A feeling of despair weighed me down,
twisting my insides. My dream had changed and yet the same faceless
enemy stalked the corridors of my mind.

I pushed the hair out of my face, trying to
focus on not falling as I climbed from bed. A cool breeze blew in
the window and a million hairs rose over my bare skin. I fumbled
through the bottom drawer of the dresser for a sweatshirt and
jeans, then struggled into them in the confining darkness, a sense
of déjà vu in the simple task.

My feet took me toward the kitchen, where I
finally thought to flip a light switch. But the room remained
shadowed. I flipped the toggle up and down, as they always do in
bad horror movies, an inadequate action much like pushing the
little disconnect button in and out on an old rotary phone and
saying, ‘hello, hello,’ with the same result. Nothing.

“Great,” I muttered as I headed toward the
dark hulking shape of the refrigerator. The leg of a kitchen chair
caught my big toe and I yelped, stumbled the remaining steps, and
leaned haphazardly against the solid appliance while holding my
injured foot with one hand, swearing under my breath. My cell
phone, across the room on the kitchen counter where I’d left it
sitting, took that opportune moment to begin playing a
light-hearted rendition of
Yankee Doodle
. The little light
flashed as it played, giving me the help I needed to maneuver
safely around the table and pick it up. I noticed the display had
chalked up 10 unanswered calls throughout the day. Someone was
persistent.

“Hello,” I answered breathlessly, “House of
horrors. Can I help you?” I leaned against the counter, still
babying my injured foot.

“Billie? Are you all right?” a familiar voice
asked.

I squinted into the dark, my brain still
fuzzy with the dream. Who would call in the middle of the night
just to ask if I was all right? That was a silly question. My
brother, of course. Adam could be sadistic at times, waking me from
a deep sleep to inform me that there was a tornado warning and we
had to go down to the basement. Only, I was so groggy with sleep
that I didn’t realize until I carried my pillow and blanket
downstairs and stood shivering on the cement floor with bare feet,
that Adam and Mom were not joining me and all was quiet
aboveground. Not to say that he couldn’t be kind and empathetic at
times, but he was my brother after all. It was his job to annoy,
tease, and cajole me, depending on the circumstances.

“Adam. What’s up?” I asked. I pulled the door
open on the cupboard behind my head and reached in for a water
glass. I could hear laughter and talking in the background. Sounded
like a frat party and I hoped Adam wasn’t making a habit of staying
up till all hours every night.

“What’s up with you?” He sounded slightly
perturbed, which made me smile for some reason. “I’ve been calling
all day and you never picked up. This is a fine time to answer the
phone. Where have you been? Mom is worried out of her head. She
made me take her to the airport to fly back out there.”

“What? You didn’t really,” I said on a groan,
closing my eyes and hoping he would laugh and say, gotcha. But I
knew this time my brother was serious.

“She’s on her way, Sis. She wouldn’t tell me
why she’s so worried, just that you needed her. As usual, I’m out
of the loop. Apparently, its that girls-only ESP thing again.” He
was silent for a moment and I bit nervously at my lip, not knowing
what to tell him. “Look,” he said, his voice low as though afraid
of being overheard by his college friends. “I know I’m just the kid
brother, but if there’s something I can do…”

I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes before
answering. “Thanks, Adam. But the best thing you can do is keep
your grades up or she’ll be after you. What time is her flight
scheduled to arrive?”

“Ten in the morning, but she was planning on
surprising you, taking a cab or …” A loud crash, followed by
raucous laughter, drowned out the rest of my brother’s words.

“Adam? What’s going on there? Don’t you guys
ever sleep?” The big sister in me couldn’t stay quiet any longer.
“Mom will nail your hide to the wall if you don’t keep your grades
up. You’ll be living at home, with a curfew again,” I warned.

“Yeah, whatever. You’re the one who was out
all day and night. And you never did say where you’ve been.”

“I haven’t been anywhere. I was asleep. So, I
didn’t answer the phone. What’s the big deal?” I went to the sink
and filled the glass with water. Now if I just had a couple
sleeping pills. But if my mother came and found me on a sleeping
binge, I would never get rid of her. Old habits and all.

“Sleeping, huh? Yeah, well, you’ve tried that
one. It doesn’t work. You better think of something else before she
gets there.” The thumping bass of a stereo turned up to hearing
loss proportions nearly drowned out his next words. “I’m not a kid
anymore, Billie. You can count on me — you know?”

“I know. I love you too.” I flipped the phone
closed and stood staring out the kitchen window into the night. The
trees nearly obscured the sky from this vantage point but the moon
still glowed brightly through the branches.

A shadowed figure separated from beneath the
trees, moving stealthily along the side of the house toward the
garage. I leaned closer to the windowpane, squinting into the yard.
Was someone out there, nosing around, perhaps the same someone who
broke into the cellar?

I picked up my cell phone to call 911, but
thought better of it. If a neighbor kid were out doing mischief, I
would take care of it myself. I’d dealt with far scarier situations
in my line of work, individuals harboring malicious intent rather
than simple destruction of property. It would do me good to get
into lawyer mode, with my, I’m in charge attitude. That way I could
distance myself from the things I couldn’t control, like dreams of
a past best left forgotten.

After pushing my bare feet into the running
shoes I’d left by the back door, I slipped outside and followed the
direction I’d seen the prowler move just moments before, around the
side of the house. As I paused in the shadow of the garage, my gaze
moved slowly over the winery and outbuildings, looking for movement
or a subtle change in landscape. The sky began to lighten, but not
enough to see clearly. Dark shapes loomed everywhere: crates, a
stack of firewood, tree stumps, something covered with a tarp
against the shed. Someone could be hiding ten yards away and I
wouldn’t know.

I took a deep breath and slowly released it,
screwing up my courage for the walk across the open area. A hand
grasped my shoulder and I spun around, my fist making contact with
the man’s face a split second before my knee did damage to his
lower regions. A grunt and groan of pain told me I’d hit pay dirt
even before he dropped to the ground, curled into a ball. Those
self-defense classes were definitely worth every cent.

“What did you do that for?” he asked, his
voice abnormally high and breathless.

“Handel?” I bent over him, concern vying with
my consternation at his sudden appearance. “What are you doing
here?!”

He struggled to his knees and tried to
breathe normally, dawn’s light etching the pain in his face like
charcoal on paper. “Looking for you.” Tentatively, he reached up
and touched his bleeding nose. “Guess I found you.”

I straightened up and glared down at him,
shaking my head. “I’d say I’m sorry, but you did sneak up on me —
in the dark, I might add. Not a wise decision, after all.”

“No.” He grimaced as he tried to stand. “And
that’s the last time I do a favor for anyone.”

I reached out and helped him to his feet. His
nose was still bleeding and I used the edge of my sleeve to wipe it
gently away. His eyes narrowed suspiciously at my ministrations but
he stood still until I was done.

“Thanks,” he said, his voice soft and
surprisingly free of sarcasm.

“You’re welcome.” I stepped back and glanced
around for his car. “By the way, what are you doing here and who
are you performing this favor for? Surely not me, because I don’t
remember asking you for anything.” The tail end of his car peeked
out from the other side of the garage. Did he choose that spot in
order to be hidden from view?