Nathaniel (34 page)

There was silence in the room for several long seconds, a silence that was finally broken by Laura. “Maybe Michael knows what happened that night,” she said at last. Anna stared at her with disbelieving eyes. “He—he knows what happened to my baby, Mother,” she went on. “He told Janet he saw them kill it—”

Anna swung around, her eyes locking on Janet. “That’s impossible,” she said. “He wasn’t there that night. He couldn’t have seen anything.”

“I know,” Janet agreed, her voice reflecting her own disbelief. “But he says he saw it.” She hesitated, then went on. “He says Nathaniel showed him what happened.”

“Nathaniel?” Anna repeated. “But there is no Nathaniel—”

“Michael says there is,” Janet replied.

“Do you believe him?”

Janet shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know what to believe anymore—”

“I want to talk to him,” Anna said suddenly. “Alone. I want to talk to him alone. And I want you to tell me everything else Michael has said.”

Michael stared down into the depths of the swimming hole, and saw the collection of boulders that choked the bottom. Here and there, the larger ones rose nearly to the surface, and not more than five feet from the place where he had dropped into the water only three months ago, a broad flat plane of rock had replaced the water entirely. He looked up, and met his cousin’s gaze.

“I said you were lucky,” Ryan told him as if he’d read the thoughts in Michael’s mind.

But Michael shook his head. “I knew I wasn’t going to get hurt,” he said.

“Bullshit,” Ryan replied. He gave Eric a disgusted look. “You shoulda seen it—it was all muddy, and you couldn’t see anything. And he did a backflip off the tire.”

Eric turned suspicious eyes on Michael, but when he spoke, it was to Ryan. “Maybe he came down here earlier and found out where the rocks were.”

“I did not,” Michael protested. “I’d never even been here before. But I knew I wasn’t going to get hurt.”

“How did you know?” Eric demanded.

Michael knew he couldn’t explain it. How could he tell them what it had been like, when he couldn’t really figure it out himself? Still, Ryan and Eric were staring at him, and he had to say something.

“It—it was like somebody was there, whispering into my ear, telling me where to dive. I wasn’t even scared. I just sort of knew that nothing could happen to me.”

Ryan stared at him with scorn in his eyes. “If nothing can happen to you, how come you managed to stick a pitchfork through your foot?”

“I didn’t do that. Grandpa did that.”

“Aw, come off it, Michael. Grandpa didn’t do it. You’re so full of shit!”

“I am not!” Michael flared.

“You are too,” Ryan shot back. “Like remember that day old man Findley caught us in the woods, and you said what he was really worried about was the barn?”

“Y-yes—” Michael admitted.

“Well, you said you’d show us what he was so worried about sometime, but you never did. You’re just as scared of him as everybody else is.”

“I am not!”

“Are too!”

Michael’s eyes narrowed. His head began to ache, and in the depths of his mind, he heard Nathaniel’s voice, warning him. But it was too late. If he backed down now, Ryan and Eric would never let him forget it. Besides, it would be an adventure, and a forbidden adventure at that.

He ignored Nathaniel’s warnings. “All right then, let’s go over there.”

Shadow suddenly stirred from his position at Michael’s feet, and a low growl rumbled up from deep in his throat. Michael reached out and scratched the dog’s ears, and the growl faded away.

“When?” Eric challenged.

Michael shrugged with feigned nonchalance. “Tonight?”

Ryan and Eric exchanged a glance, each of them waiting for the other to call Michael’s bluff. “Okay,” Eric said at last. “But I bet you don’t show up. I bet you chicken out, and then claim your mother stayed up late and you couldn’t sneak out.”

“Mom goes to bed early,” Michael argued. “And even she doesn’t, I’ll still get out.”

“But what if she sees us?” Ryan asked.

“She can’t,” Michael replied. “Her bedroom’s on the other side of the house. She can see Eric’s house, but she can’t see old man Findley’s at all.”

“What if she sees Eric?”

But Eric shook his head. “She won’t. There isn’t any moon tonight.”

Ryan, though, was still uncertain, and his brows knit into a worried frown. “If my dad catches me, he’ll beat the shit out of me.”

Eric shrugged. “Then stay at my house tonight. My room’s downstairs, and I can sneak out any time I want to. I never get caught.”

A little later the three of them started home, but as they ambled through the woods and across the fields, none of them said much. Each boy was thinking of the night’s adventure, Eric and Ryan with anticipation, but Michael with a strong sense of unease. Maybe, he decided as he and Shadow turned up the driveway to his house, it would have been better to have let Eric and Ryan think he was chicken. But it was too late now.

Shadow barked happily and dashed ahead. Michael looked up and saw his grandmother seated in her wheelchair just in front of the porch. As he watched, the big dog bounded up to her and reared up to put his paws on the old woman’s lap, his tongue licking at her face.

“Get down,” Michael yelled, breaking into a run. “Shadow, get down!”

“It’s all right,” Anna assured him. “He’s a good dog, aren’t you, Shadow?” She patted him on the head, then began to ease his weight off her lap. The dog quickly settled down at her feet, though he kept his head high enough so she could scratch his ears. Anna smiled at Michael. “I thought it was time you and I had a good talk.”

Michael glanced around uncertainly. “Where’s Mom?” he asked. “And Grandpa?”

“Your grandfather’s at home, and your mother and Aunt Laura had some errands to run. But I wanted to talk to you, so here I am.”

“T-talk to me?” Michael asked. “About what?”

“All kinds of things,” Anna replied. “For one thing, why don’t we talk about why your grandfather killed your father?”

Michael stared at his grandmother. Her eyes were on him, and though he expected them to be angry, instead he saw only a soft warmth. And she was smiling.

“D-did Mom tell you that?”

Anna hesitated, then nodded. “She told me that’s what you think. She told me you saw him do it.”

Michael swallowed, then nodded. “Mom says it was only a dream, though.”

“I know,” Anna said. “And I didn’t argue with her. But what if it wasn’t a dream? What if you really did see it?”

“You mean you believe me?”

“I don’t believe you’re a liar, Michael. As far as I know, you’ve only lied once, and I believe you had your reasons for that lie.” She paused a moment, then went on. “It was the night Aunt Laura’s baby was born,” she said. “You saw them bury her baby out in the field, didn’t you? Out in Potter’s Field?”

Michael froze, a wave of fear washing over him.

“Is that what happened, Michael?” Anna pressed.

“I—I’m not supposed to tell. I’m not supposed to tell anybody. H-he told me—” Michael broke off, already sure he’d said too much.

“But you didn’t tell me,” Anna reassured him. “I told you, didn’t I? I told you what happened.”

Uncertainly, Michael nodded.

“And what about that day in the barn, Michael, when your grandfather stabbed your foot? Are you allowed to tell me about that?”

“Mom said that was an accident—” Michael began, but Anna held up a quieting hand.

“I’m sure your mother thinks it was an accident. But I want you to tell me what really happened. Can you do that?”

Slowly, Michael told his grandmother what had happened in the loft. When he was done, Anna sat silently for a long time. Then she reached out and took Michael’s hand. “Michael, do you know what it was your father thought your grandfather had done? What Nathaniel had shown him?”

“N-no.”

“Well, don’t you think we ought to find out?”

Michael frowned. “But Mom says I only imagined it all. Mom says I only dreamed the things I saw.”

“But what if you didn’t, Michael? What if you really saw it all?”

“You mean you believe me? You don’t think I’m crazy?”

Anna put her arms around the boy and drew him close. “Of course you’re not crazy,” she told him. “And you mustn’t be afraid of what you know. It’s what you don’t know that’s frightening, Michael. That’s the way it always is,” she said, almost to herself. “The things that you don’t know about are the most frightening.” She let her arms fall away from the boy, and straightened herself in her chair. “Now, let’s you and I go and find out just what’s in Potter’s Field, all right?”

Michael’s eyes widened apprehensively. “But Mr. Findley—”

“Ben Findley won’t stop us,” Anna replied. “I’ve known Ben Findley most of my life, and he won’t do anything. Not to me. Not when he knows I’m sitting right there, watching him. Now, help me with this chair.”

With Michael behind her and Shadow at her side, Anna Hall moved across the yard. Then she started out through the pasture toward the barbed wire fence that surrounded Potter’s Field, her chair fighting her every inch of the way.

“Leave me here,” Anna said. She gazed at Ben Findley’s ramshackle house, partly hidden from her view by his barn. A few feet away lay the barbed wire, and beyond it the tangle of brush and weeds that choked the abandoned field. “You and Shadow go out into the field, and see what you can find.” When there was no reply, she twisted around in her chair.

Michael’s expressionless eyes seemed fixed on a point in the distance. Anna followed his gaze, but all she saw was the barn. “Michael? Michael, is something wrong?”

Michael came out of his daze, and his eyes shifted to his grandmother. “But what if old man Findley—”

“He won’t come out,” Anna told him. “He might try to scare children, but he won’t try to scare me. Now, go on.”

As Anna watched, Michael made his way carefully through the fence, the big dog following close behind him. Once, Michael glanced up toward the barn, but then he concentrated on the ground in the field. He moved slowly, knowing he was looking for something, but unsure what it might be.

For ten minutes, the boy and the dog ranged back and forth across the field, finding nothing. Then, suddenly, Shadow stiffened and went on point.

And at the same time, a headache began to form in Michael’s temples.

There was a stone on the ground, a stone that didn’t quite seem to belong in the field. Though it was weathered, it seemed to have been purposely shaped, flattened and rounded as if it was meant to mark something. As Michael stared at the stone, Shadow moved slowly forward, his nose twitching, soft eager sounds emerging from his throat.

“Here.”
Though it was only one word, the voice inside his head was unmistakable. The word resounded in his head, echoing, then gradually faded away. As it died, the headache cleared.

Michael knelt on the ground and carefully moved the stone aside. He began digging in the soft moist earth beneath the stone.

Six inches down, his fingers touched something, and after a little more digging, he was able to unearth the object.

It was a piece of bone, thin and dish shaped, and even though Michael had never before seen such a thing, he knew at once what it was.

A fragment of a skull.

In twenty minutes, Michael and Shadow found five more of the flat, round stones, and beneath each of the stones, there were pieces of bone.

At last, Michael returned to his grandmother and told her what he’d found.

“What are we going to do?” he asked as they began making their way back toward the house.

For a long time, Anna was silent, but when they were finally back on the front porch, she gazed into Michael’s eyes. “Michael, do you know how you see the things you’ve seen?”

Michael nodded.

“Can you tell me?”

Michael gazed fearfully at his grandmother. “I—I’m not supposed to tell. If I tell, I’ll die.”

Anna reached out and touched Michael’s cheek. “No,” she said softly. “You won’t die, Michael. Whatever happens, I won’t let you die.”

Michael paled slightly. “You’re not going to tell Grandpa, are you?”

Anna drew the boy close. “I’m not going to tell anybody, and neither are you. Until we decide what to do, this is our secret. But you mustn’t be frightened. Do you understand that?”

Michael nodded silently, then pushed his grandmother’s chair through the front door. When his mother and his aunt arrived a few minutes later, neither he nor his grandmother said a word about what had transpired between them.

It was their secret, and, Michael decided, he liked having a secret with someone else. Since his father had died, there had been no one to share secrets with.

No one except Nathaniel.

Ben Findley let the curtain drop back over his window as the woman and the boy disappeared into the house next door. For a long time, he thought about what he ought to do, wondered if, indeed, he ought to do anything at all. In the end, though, he went to the telephone, picked it up, and dialed. When it was finally answered, he explained exactly what he’d seen. “I don’t want them there,” he finished. “I don’t want your family snooping in my field.”

All right, Ben,” Amos Hall replied. “I’ll take care of it.”

Michael lay in bed, wishing he’d never promised Ryan and Eric that he’d take them into old man Findley’s barn. This afternoon, when they’d been at the swimming hole, it had seemed like it might be a great adventure. But now he wasn’t so sure—ever since he’d been in Potter’s Field and his head had started hurting, he’d begun to remember Nathaniel’s warnings once again. Now, in spite of his grandmother’s words, he was frightened, but he’d told Eric and Ryan he’d meet them, and if he didn’t, they’d think he was chicken.

At last, when he was sure his mother was asleep, he slowly began getting dressed. Only when he had double-knotted his tennis shoes and checked his pocket for his house key three times did he finally open the door to his room and whisper to Shadow, “Go on.” The dog obediently slipped through the narrow opening and padded silently down the stairs. Closing the door, Michael went to the window and peered out into the darkness. As Eric had said, there was no moon, but the night was clear, and the soft glow of starlight softened the blackness. Michael opened the dormer window, then climbed gingerly out onto the steeply sloping roof. A shingle cracked under his weight, and Michael froze for a moment, listening for any slight movements from within the house. When he heard nothing, he began making his way carefully toward the eave.