Summer Shadows (5 page)

5

T
he trip took longer than expected. Traffic was heavy, and bogged down in several places. They passed a dreadful-looking accident involving a truck and two small cars, which horrified Dana and fascinated Jack.

“Aunt Julia,” he said, sounding awed. “They hit each other.”

“Yes, Jack.”

“Why did they hit each other?”

“I don’t know.”

“They hit each other,” he said again, “and then they blew up.”

“I don’t think they blew up.”

“Yes, they did. That’s why police are there.”

“Oh,
Jack,
” said Ron. He was white-faced from fighting carsickness.

“What?”

Julia sighed. “Let’s listen to the music, guys, okay?”

They had to make a bathroom break and then stop for lunch at a crowded restaurant that had very slow service. Jack became cranky and ended up with most of his meal on his shirt. Dana was homesick, and the still-queasy Ron didn’t feel like eating much.

They managed to make it through lunch and got back on the road. With a meal and some ice cream soothing the kids, they became sleepy and the van was quiet.

It was well past two o’clock when Julia finally passed through Concord, New Hampshire. She sighed with relief and turned down the air conditioner. The day had gone from warm to hot very quickly, and the noise of the fans was starting to irritate her. She turned down the radio, too, and glanced in the rear view mirror.

The two youngsters in the back looked like withered flowers. Jack slept in the warm sunlight that fell on his seat, the stains of lunch still prominent on his shirt. His golden curls shone like a halo on his head. Dana was curled up in a little ball, her head on a stack of suitcases, one arm around her rag doll, and her mind far into a dream world.

To Julia’s right, Ron was very quiet, as he had been for the entire trip; however, he was feeling better, thanks to some Pepto Bismal from a local gas station. His blue eyes watched the passing scenery with a dreamy concentration. His hand had grown loose on its grip of his iPod, and Julia could just make out the faint sounds of the song that was playing.

The scenery grew more and more luxurious. Tangles of trees, brush, and thick grass made it seem as though they were driving through a sort of northeastern jungle. Julia even spotted some rare Lady Slipper orchards, and the horticulturalist in her grew excited. She remembered Mrs. O’Reilly telling her about the remains of the garden out back. It would be fun to work on it, weeding and planting. Maybe Dana would like to help with that. She was looking for something to nurture, after all.

Once again, Julia went over her to-do list. First thing was to see if the house was clean enough to stay the night. If not, she’d brought a tent, a portable grill, and the sleeping bags. They could camp in the backyard until the house was ready. Although Mrs. O’Reilly didn’t think there was any problem with the place, Julia wanted to leave nothing to chance.

The second thing was to visit the local hardware store to pick up cleaning supplies. Space constraints forced Julia to leave all but the bare minimum behind. She could also look for paint and other supplies while there. She was looking forward to the work: there was nothing she liked better than a simple home improvement project. It would help take her mind off of the job hunt.

She had already sent her resume to several companies with open positions. Hopefully, something would come up soon. Any sort of home improvement would cost money, and that was in dwindling supply.

Ron, who was studying the directions, pulled an earplug from his ear. “Take the next right,” he said. “Almost there.”

“Yep,” Julia smiled. “I’ll be glad to get out of the car.”

Ron didn’t answer. He had plugged himself in again, and they were separated by a wall of music.

They followed the directions to Sheila O’Reilly’s house, passing through downtown Franklin as they did so.

Ron kept careful watch at the window, not terribly impressed by what he saw. Franklin had once been a busy and prosperous city; but for every open business, there were two that were closed. Although the websites he had visited spoke of the city’s renaissance, Franklin was still suffering. There weren’t many people on the broad, straight streets. A police car idled by a stop sign.

The directions took them through the city center and into the outskirts of Webster Lake. Here, old streets with small houses were interspaced with wider, more modern streets and newer houses. Their carefully trimmed lawns, backyard pools, and patios made Ron feel a little better. He sat up straight and pulled the ear plug out.

Sheila O’Reilly lived on High Top Ridge, a street built into the side of a hill near Whipple Lane. She wasn’t home. She’d left an envelope taped to her door containing a note and a key, which Aunt Julia brought back to the minivan.

“Sheila forgot that they were going out this afternoon,” she said. She showed Ron a bunch of shiny keys. “But we’re in.”

“Doesn’t seem like a very safe way to leave someone a key,” Ron remarked.

“It isn’t, but I guess it doesn’t matter now. We’ve got the keys and that’s the main thing.” She started the van and turned back on to the street, shaking her head ruefully. “The note says that the lawn is covered in ticks. There goes my backup plan – I don’t want to tent in a tick-infested lawn.”

Ron read the directions to 134 Whipple Lane. As they drove closer to the lake, the houses grew smaller and sat close together in a cozy fashion. The enormous pines and maples testified to the fact that it was an older section of town. Some of the backyards had toys, while others simply had hammocks. An old woman sitting on her front porch frowned at the van as they passed by. A trio of pre-teen girls walked down the street, talking and texting each other.

“Take the next left,” Ron read, and Julia turned onto Whipple Lane.

It was a wider, more open street than the one the O’Reilly’s lived on, and the properties were better kept up, with mowed lawns and drivable cars in the driveways. Julia slowed down as they came upon a green and weather-worn mailbox with the lettering
134
on it in chipped white paint.

The grass from the tiny unkempt front yard at number 134 came nearly halfway up the leaning post. In front of the house, day lilies and tulips fought against the encroaching lawn.

A maple and an oak stood at the front corners of the property, the oak with the petrified remains of a wooden swing hanging from one of its limbs. A rotting, waist-height fence, in serious need of paint, leaned against its trunk. Someone long ago had planted little clusters of white, blue, and red flowers at each of the fence posts, but they were overrun with weeds.

Ron barely noticed these details, however. His attention was taken up by the house itself.

He was prepared for a small place. Aunt Julia had told them that it was only a cottage for people visiting the lake, but he was still disappointed. Wide, cracked cement stairs led up to an old one-and-a-half story bungalow with a roofed front porch, where a large front door stood between two double windows. Above the porch roof was a gable and a tiny set of windows in what was probably the attic. There were chimneys on either side of the house, and Ron wondered if there were fireplaces. He regretted the idea that they would not have an opportunity to use them, if there were.

Although it was large as old summer-by-the-lake cottages go, compared to his two-and-a-half story place in Springfield, this house looked positively cramped.

Julia pulled into the driveway. On closer inspection, the house looked even less inviting. The cream colored paint was cracked and chipped and the windows were dusty and full of cobwebs. Ron found himself wondering if the house had cockroaches.

He had just managed to clear the expression from his face when his aunt turned to him.

“It’s bigger than I expected,” she said.

Ron nodded.

She studied it for a moment. “You know what it reminds me of?”

Ron wanted to say, “The House on Haunted Hill?” but he contented himself with, “No, what?” in a mildly curious tone of voice.

Julia tapped her window and, in a tone like that of an archeologist with a significant find, said, “It reminds me of those pre-fab homes that they used to sell in the 1920s and 30s. Sears used to have catalogs full of them. You’d just order the kit and dig the foundation and presto, you had a home.”

This was the first he’d heard of it. “Really?”

“Yes. I used to have an old catalog from Sears, back when I was studying architecture. This house looks so familiar, I wonder if it was in that catalogue.” She gave a winsome smile. “These sorts of houses were a big deal then. They were cheap, easy to build, and ordinary families could afford to have their own place outside of the city. It must have been a dream come true for some of them.”

This did not look to Ron like anyone’s dream come true. “You studied architecture?”

“Mmm hmm. Just for a little while. I used to like to walk around neighborhoods and try to guess what year the houses were built. I got to be pretty good at it.” She smiled at him apologetically. “I’m sorry, Ron. I’m jabbering on and on, and you probably want to get out and stretch your legs.”

“I’m fine,” he said quickly.

“I know, but it’s almost three and we’ve got a lot to do. Now you wait here, and I’ll take a quick walk through the house before we wake the others.”

Ron, who really did want more than anything to stretch his legs, said hopefully, “Would you like me to come with you?”

“No, you stay here with the others. I just want to be sure we don’t have a tenant living in there that Mrs. O’Reilly forgot to tell us about. Sometimes, when these houses are left alone for a period of time, people move in without permission.” She opened the door and looked at the house with some trepidation. Then, with a glance over her shoulder, she said, “I’ll be right back. Keep the door locked.”

She shut the door behind her and waited until he put the lock down. After trying several keys, she managed to get the side door open, and was swallowed up by the darkness inside.

Ron unlocked the doors again, just in case, and unbuckled his seat belt. Twisting around, he shook Dana until she protested and slapped his hand away.

“Dana, we’re here,” he said.

She sat up, her hair mussed, her eyes heavy with sleep. She looked around.

“Where are we, Ron?”

“We’re at the cottage,” he said. “Aunt Julia’s gone inside to take a look.”

Studying the house, Dana looked shocked. “It’s all
broken
,” she cried. “And
dirty
! We’re going to live in there?”

Ron sighed as he faced front again. “I guess so. Just for a few weeks, anyway.”

He could see Dana pouting in the rearview mirror.

“It’s all dirty and gross,” she said. “I don’t want to sleep in there. It’ll be all buggy and stuff. We should just go home.”

“We can clean it up,” he replied sternly. He privately agreed with Dana, but didn’t want to spark a mutiny. Not on the first day, anyway. “Oh, buck up, Dana. It’ll be fine.”

“It looks creepy. Like it’s haunted or something.”

“Aunt Julia won’t let us stay in any place that’s dangerous. And besides, ghosts don’t exist and you know it.”

“Well, maybe not, but I…”

As she said this, Jack woke up with a start, saying, “Oh! Oh, I need to
go,
Ron! I need to
go!”

“You have to wait, Jack. Aunt Julia will be back any minute.”

Just then, the side door opened and Julia came out. She looked preoccupied as she approached the van.

Ron said hastily, “You just keep quiet, Dana. We don’t want to bother Aunt Julia, right?”

“Whatever,” Dana mumbled, but Ron knew that she’d obey.

Julia opened the sliding door, and her face brightened when she saw Dana. “Oh, good, you’re awake! You can get out now, but stay out of the grass.”

“I have to
go
!” Jack moaned.

“Oh, good heavens! Hold on one second, buddy.”

Ron got out of the car while Julia took Jack out of his car seat and swung him up onto her hip. Jack was still half asleep and he rested his head on her shoulder as she turned to the house.

“Well, guys,” she said hopefully. “This is it. What do you think?”

“It looks dirty,” Dana said, before Ron could stop her.

Julia nodded. “I’m afraid it is. We have a lot of cleaning to do before we can start to relax, guys. Want to see inside?”

“I need to
go
!” Jack reminded her.

“Ron, run and get the wipes from the van. Don’t go near the grass. Dana, come on.”

Dana followed her reluctantly. Ron darted back to the van as quickly as he could, grabbed the wipes, and made it to the house before Dana got through the door.

Just inside the doorway was a staircase leading upstairs to a shadowed second floor. On their right was a closed, battered, and ominous-looking door. On the left were two steps that led up into the kitchen. They followed Julia as she turned a sharp right down a short hall and stopped just short of the door at the end. She turned to Ron.

“Got the wipes?”

He tossed them to her and she caught them neatly with her free hand. “I’ll take Jack to the bathroom. You two can look around, but don’t get into anything.”

She and Jack disappeared into the bathroom.

For a moment, Ron and Dana stood staring at each other. The house was cool, dark, and dry, with a hint of a musty smell to it. Shafts of mid-afternoon sunlight came in through the kitchen windows and made an effort to light the hallway. There were doors all around them, all of them shut.

“Come on, Dana,” Ron said, suddenly filled with the urge to explore.

He started with the door across from the kitchen. It opened up into a small room with a banged up desk, a sagging computer chair, an empty bookcase, and a window. There were marks in the dusty rug from where other furniture once rested, and dead flies decorated the window sill.