Rogue's Hollow (12 page)

As he scribbled down notes to take to the attorney’s office to change the documents, he realized that he didn’t even know Travis’s last name. Malachi shook his head and mumbled to himself, “How can that be?” Had Travis told him and he’d forgotten? He wracked his brain, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember it.

He walked outside where he found Travis ten feet up on the ladder, scraping away. Malachi smiled as he looked around. The paint flakes floating in the air made it look like it was snowing. “How you doing up there, son?”

Travis looked down and his face lit up with a huge smile. “Grand and dandy.”

Malachi couldn’t help but notice how happy he was. “Hey, Travis. Have you ever told me your last name? For the life of me, I can’t recall it.”

“I don’t know. I don’t think it ever came up. It’s Edington. Travis Edington.”

Malachi nodded. “Nice, solid name. Thanks. I was getting the paperwork together, and realized that I didn’t have that one vital piece of information.” Stepping back so that he could see better, Malachi smiled, “You’re doing a fine job, Mr. Edington. The place is really coming around.”
             

Travis’s face lit up. “Why thank you, Mr. Chidester. This is hard work, but fun in a strange way, too. I can see the progress.” He’d never taken on a project this big in his entire life. But it was different now. He had a vested interest in the old mill and that made him work even harder. It was his responsibility to see that the work got done properly. Malachi and this old mill had saved his life and gave him a real future to look forward to. Travis vowed to do everything in his power to live up to Malachi’s expectations of him. And, for the first time in his life, Travis had high expectations for himself, too.

Malachi squinted into the rising sun. “Do you need anything, Travis?”

“Nope. I’m good here. Thanks.”

“Well then, I’ll get back to my paperwork. Holler if you need anything and please be careful up there.”

“Will do, Stumpy.”

Malachi shook his head and grinned as he walked back inside. He plopped down at the kitchen table and wrote out the name, Travis Edington. He rested the pen on the side of his head, as though that helped him think and repeated to himself, “Edington. Travis Edington. That last name sounds so familiar.”

He laid his pen down on the table with the books and carefully maneuvered the staircase down to the cold, dusty cellar. Just out of curiosity, he had to check the book. Cobwebs hung from the doorway which he brushed off with an old broom handle as he entered a room that was pitch black. His heart raced as he frantically grasped into the darkness searching for the pull-chain to turn on the old light fixture that hung down from the musty ceiling. This room always gave him the creeps. He pulled the chain and then grabbed the light trying to steady it from swinging back and forth. It illuminated strange shadows onto the walls.

Cobwebs were thick and hanging low from the exposed wooden plank ceiling. The mortar on the brick walls was crumbling into powder. In the middle of the room sat an old wooden table made of thick boards. The wood was taken from fallen trees in the forest behind the mill. His grandfather had built the massive table when Malachi was just a mere child. Slowly he ran his hand along the dusty wood grain. He could almost hear his grandfather’s voice and the way he talked to Malachi as he built the table. “Son, this wood belongs here. That big old walnut tree lived its entire life on this property. I’m going to build a massive table that no one will ever be able to remove from this room. Short of some fool taking a saw to it, the tree will remain with this old mill forever more. Just as it should be.”

A smile curled up the corners of Malachi’s mouth as he remembered his granddad carefully sanding the rough wood down to a beautiful smooth finish. He followed the grain with his hand and made his way around the back side of the table as the light bulb continued to gently sway, casting ominous shadows onto the walls.

Malachi came around the corner and stopped at a dead halt as he saw two green eyes staring at him in the flickering dim light. He stepped back quickly and slammed against the crumbling brick wall. Standing frozen with his back to the wall, a large black cat emerged from the shadows, hissed at him and leapt out a broken window that led to the back of the mill.

He grabbed his chest and took a few deep breaths trying to calm down. Sweat beads formed on his forehead which he wiped off with his handkerchief. He shook his head and said to himself, “I’m getting too old for a scare like that. Why do cats seem to have devil eyes?”

Malachi took another deep breath and refocused his attention. Glancing around, he spotted what he’d come down here for in the first place. He walked over to a large shelving unit bolted to the old brick wall and pulled a large wooden box off the top shelf. Slowly, he opened it and carefully removed a bulky, leather bound book. He cringed as he lifted it with his tender hand. Brushing dust from the cover, he sat down at the old walnut table and stared at the historic book for a moment. It was tied closed with cracked, wide leather straps. On the front cover an inscription was carved into the leather which simply read,
The Awakening
.

It was the sacred book that the religious reformist group kept when they inhabited this area, over two hundred years ago. Malachi’s great-great grandfather, Ambrose Chidester, was a founding member of the group, which was more or less a cult.

Malachi sat and stared at the cover, almost afraid to open the sacred pages. He closed his eyes, laid his hand on the well-worn leather and whispered, “Forgive them of their deeds.” Slowly, he opened his eyes and looked around the dimly lit room, glancing over his shoulder. It always gave him the creeps down in the cellar. Just the thought of what took place on this land decades ago sent chills down his spine.

Gently, he opened the heavy cover and carefully placed his reading glasses on the bridge of his nose. With great caution, he leafed through the pages, turning each with care until he found the exact one he was looking for. It was the page that listed the group’s membership. His index finger stump ran down the column and came to rest on a name, Marcus Edington. He was listed as an elder in the discipleship, as was his own great-great grandfather, Ambrose. Malachi stared at the name in disbelief and thought to himself,
Could it be possible?

Just then, a hand rested firmly on his shoulder and a voice said, “Malachi.” He was so surprised that he jumped up, knocking his chair backwards onto the dirt floor. A cloud of dust filled the air and his glasses flew off his face as he turned around. He stood trembling in a fighting stance, arms raised with his eyes wide, nervously trying to make out the figure in the dimly lit room.

“Whoa, Malachi. Calm down.”

“Travis?” he questioned, trying to catch his breath.

“Yeah. It’s just me. I didn’t mean to startle you like that. I yelled for you upstairs, but couldn’t find you. I saw the cellar door open and came on down. Sorry to scare you.” He picked up Malachi’s glasses off the dirt floor and handed them to him as he nonchalantly looked down at the book on the table. Squinting in the dim light, he tried to read some of the fine print.

“Thank you, son. I’m sorry that I reacted like that. When you’ve lived alone as long as I have, it startles you when someone walks in on you.”

“No problem. What are you doing down here?”

Malachi stepped in front of him, quickly closed the cover and placed the heavy book back into its holding box.

Travis craned over his shoulder trying to see it. “What is that? That’s a cool old book. Can I see it?”

He turned away from Travis and snapped, “No, absolutely not. It’s private family history.” He closed up the box and nervously turned to face Travis. “Now, what did you need me for?”

Travis shook his head. For a moment he’d completely forgotten what he’d come down for. Then he nodded, “Oh, yeah. Hey, do you have any caulk? I found a couple of small gaps around one of those second story windows that might try to leak. I thought maybe I should caulk it before I throw on a fresh coat of paint.”

Malachi lifted the heavy book and placed it back onto the shelf, ushering Travis from the small room. “I believe that I have a tube in the maintenance room over here. It might be old and dried up though, let
’
s check.”

Travis followed Malachi to a room filled with tools and pieces of broken mill parts, just waiting their turn for repair. He found an old caulk gun, with half a tube still engaged. Squeezing the trigger, he grimaced as he exerted extra energy. “Nope. Dry as a bone.” Fighting with the tool, he removed the old tube and continued, “I’ll get some in town the next time I run in. Would that work?”

Nodding, Travis replied, “Yeah, that’d be fine. Thanks.”

Malachi ushered Travis up the narrow staircase and back into the mill store, desperately trying to steer the discussion away from the book. “Hey we’ve got a broken window down there that’s going to need replaced. Seems that unbeknownst to us, a feral cat has also been calling this old mill home. Are you about ready for a Coke?”

Travis wiped his forehead. “Sounds great. It’s getting pretty warm out there. I saw some extra glass panes out in the shed. I’ll get that broken window fixed this afternoon.”

Malachi grabbed a small key from under the front counter and handed it to Travis. “Here, son, take this. Then you can open the pop machine whenever you want and grab a cold one.” He scowled his wrinkled face and said, “Just don’t lose it. I only have two keys. You and I each have one now. Actually, here,” he said as he handed Travis another key. “Take this spare front door key as well. Just in case you might need it. Do you have a good key ring to keep these on?”

Travis shook his head and pulled out a tiny ring from his pocket, with one lone key on it. “Not really. All I have is a key to the apartment, so I never really needed anything fancy.”

Malachi laughed. “Fancy, schmancy. You don’t need anything fancy. You need something sturdy.” He fumbled through the desk drawer and pulled out a carabiner, still in the wrapper and handed it to Travis. “Here, use this. It will help you get organized. Organization is vital to business management.”

Travis’s face lit up. “Cool. I’ve always wanted one of these. I just never had anything to carry on it.” He smiled at Malachi and said, “Thanks. This is awesome.” He cocked his head and smirked. “Do I get a key to Rosie, too?”

Malachi threw his hands in the air. “Oh, don’t even go there. You have to earn the right to touch my girl. That will take me a bit longer.” He smiled at Travis, admiring the way he was taking hold of his new found responsibilities.

Travis nodded. “I understand.” He placed his new keys on the shiny red carabiner, hooked in onto his belt loop, and smiled at Malachi. “Thanks for all this. It really does mean a lot to me.”

A warm smile crept across Malachi’s face. “Everything in due time, my friend. You make me proud, son.”

Brushing his shaggy hair from his face, Travis nodded shyly. “I’m doing my best.”

Placing a firm hand on his shoulder, Malachi smiled. “That’s all anyone can ask for.” He tried to reassure the nervous kid. “You’ll do just fine. Now, how about we get that nice cold soda pop?”

Travis used his new key and opened the machine, exposing the carbonated jackpot. He grabbed a Coke and smiled at Malachi. “Can I buy you a drink?”

Laughing, Malachi reached for a root beer and said, “Smart aleck!”

The two sat down on old rocking chairs that rested on the front stoop of the mill. Curiosity was eating at Malachi as he slowly sipped his sweet treat. “Travis, have you ever heard the name Marcus Edington? It appears that he was friends with my great-great grandfather. I was just curious if he might be a relation to you?”

Travis swigged his Coke and thought for a moment. “I do kinda recall that name. Every year on Memorial Day, my Mom makes me go with her to the family plot at the graveyard to lay flowers on Holly’s grave. I think I remember seeing that name on one of the big markers. It was the biggest one in our area, like he was our founding father or something. Yeah, smack dab in the center of the plot. Marcus Edington, I do remember seeing it. ”

Nodding, Malachi grinned at him. “Small world isn’t it. Our relatives were friends hundreds of years ago, and now you and I meet and become friends.” He took another sip of his drink, and continued, “Actually, Marcus lived here with my relative, Ambrose. Isn’t that strange? Our families were friends decades ago, and we didn’t even realize it.”

Travis became curious and asked, “What’d they do here? Did they run the mill?”

Malachi nodded, as he leaned back and rocked in his squeaky wooden chair. “Yeah, they did. They were kind of an odd bunch, if I do say so myself.” He looked off into the forest and grinned. “They didn’t believe the same as other folks. They were rebels who took over running the mill and started their own religion. They called it
The Awakening
.” He stopped rocking and became lost in thought.

Travis felt his leg begin to nervously twitch, as he waited for Malachi to snap out of his trance. “How many of them were there?”

Shaking his head, Malachi replied, “Around a dozen. Five of those were considered the elders. Both of our relatives were in that group. They made the rules and formed the new church, right here, on this land.” As his chair began to rock and squeak again, he spoke quietly. “Most of the women didn’t like it out here, so they had a big community building in town. They all lived together and raised the children, while the men stayed out here at the mill and worked. Times were hard back then and jobs were scarce. These men were grateful to be able to earn a living and provide for their families. They ran the woolen mill here, but they also had a seasonal maple syrup camp and made bricks in a kiln they built up on Silver Creek Ridge.”