The Boarding House (2 page)

Then he went to her closet and stood for a few moments, searching through the hangers.

“Ah
 . . .
here it is. This dress is my favorite.” He turned around, holding a blue wool with small white sheep appliquéd around the yoke. “How about this one?”

She nodded, holding up her arms as he slipped it over her head then buttoned it down the back. It was soft. And it was warm. Ellie began to relax.

“I want to wear my shiny black shoes, Daddy.”

Garrett frowned. “It’s cold out so I thought we’d do the furry boots.”

Ellie began to panic. “It’s okay. I’ll wear the boots.”

He shook his head and smiled as he cupped Ellie’s chin with the palm of his hand, then ran his long thin fingers down the side of her cheek. “No. No. If my little angel wants to wear the shiny black shoes, then she shall. That’s what families do for each other. I do a favor for you. You do a favor for me.”

Ellie didn’t want to do Daddy any favors, but it was already too late to take it back.

He got the black shoes from a shelf in her closet and then sat her on the side of the bed.

“One foot in,” he said, buckling the shoe on her small, skinny foot. “Second foot in.” Ellie aimed her foot at the shoe as he slipped it on. “Just like Cinderella, right?”

Ellie’s heart began to pound.

“So if you’re Cinderella, then what does that make me?”

Ellie shivered. Daddy was staring at her with those funny green eyes. The words got stuck in the back of her throat. She looked around for Wyatt, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Garrett prompted her again as he buckled up the last shoe. “Who does Cinderella love? Come on. Tell Daddy. Who does Cinderella love?”

“Her prince. She loves her prince.”

“That’s right. So that makes me your prince, doesn’t it, Ellie?”

“Yes.”

Ellie gritted her teeth. Her words sounded squished, like they’d been forced through lips too tight to open, only Daddy didn’t care. He just laughed. She watched his eyes crinkle so tight she could barely see the color. Wyatt called them frog green and reminded her how lucky they were that their eyes were blue. She shivered as Garrett slid his hands beneath her arms and lifted her down from the bed.

He held out his hand. “Now off we go or we’re going to be late for church.”

“Is Momma coming?” Ellie asked.

He took her coat from the closet. “No. Momma isn’t feeling well. She’s still in bed.”

“Can Wyatt come? I want Wyatt to come, too.”

Garrett paused. This was one of the few times that she reminded him of Fern, and he didn’t like it.

“No, Ellie. Wyatt doesn’t go with us. This is our time. You’re Daddy’s girl, remember?”

The First United Methodist Church
sat on the corner two blocks down from Ellie’s school. Ellie loved the old church with all of its multiple steeples and gables. She thought it looked more like a castle than a church. All it needed was a moat and a dragon. Ellie would sit quietly during services without really listening to Preacher Ray, pretending she was the princess locked up in the tower, just like in the story
Rapunzel
that Momma sometimes read to her when she was sick. Ellie also liked the lemony smell of the polished wood and the way the sunlight came through the stained-glass windows, spilling all kinds of colors into her lap as the choir sang songs about Jesus.

Every other Sunday, the choir sang
Washed in the Blood of Jesus
. Ellie didn’t much like that song. She couldn’t imagine taking a bath in blood, even if it would wash away her sins. She wasn’t too sure what sins were either, but according to Wyatt, sins were things people did that were bad and got them sent to hell. If that was so, then that’s where Daddy was going. She just hoped when he went, he didn’t insist on taking her with him.

After church was over,
Daddy paraded Ellie down the aisle, soaking up the compliments as if they were about him instead of her. It wasn’t anything she hadn’t heard before, and she stayed mute, which she knew was exactly what Daddy wanted, until she overheard someone say what a beauty she was.

“Yes, she has a baby-doll face, for sure,” Daddy said.

Ellie frowned. She wasn’t sure what that meant because her baby-doll Rita had a big, flat face, a little bitty nose, and a mouth that didn’t open. As soon as she got home, she yanked free of his grasp and ran ahead of him to her room, grabbed her dolly from the bed, then carried her to the dresser mirror.

She looked at both their reflections, trying to figure out what Daddy meant. Rita’s eyes didn’t blink and her mouth didn’t open so you could see her teeth. Even more confusing, Rita’s hair was straight and brown, not blonde and curly like Ellie’s. She laid Rita back on the bed as she heard Garrett calling her to come eat, but she was going to remember this. Next time Daddy wanted to play, she was going to send Rita. Maybe then he’d leave her and Wyatt alone.

Even though Daddy didn’t like Wyatt, he was the other half of Ellie’s world. Wyatt wasn’t afraid of snakes or spiders—not even the big, black, fuzzy ones that could hop farther than Ellie could jump. Wyatt called them
trantlers
. Wyatt was brave and smart and knew stuff—important stuff. Wyatt wasn’t even afraid of storms, or monsters under the bed.

But Ellie was afraid. She was afraid of almost everything and had known, for as long as she could remember, that when the monster came, there was nowhere to hide. Not under the bed. Not in the back of her closet. The only thing between her and the monster was Wyatt—the other half of her soul.

That night, about an hour after
Daddy tucked Ellie into bed, it began to rain. She heard drops hitting the window like tiny rocks,
pop
,
pop
,
pop
, then faster until the sound was lost within the wind and the oncoming storm.

Lightning flashed. Thunder rumbled, rattling the glass in the window close to her bed. Ellie gasped and pulled the covers up over her head as Wyatt slipped in.

“Don’t be scared, Ellie,” Wyatt said. “I’m here. I’ll keep you safe.”

“Is it gonna come a twister?”

“Naw
 . . .
it’s the wrong time of year for a twister,” Wyatt said. “This is just wind and rain.”

Ellie snuggled a little deeper beneath the covers as the sound of their own breath amplified within the small dark space.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

In through the nose. Out through the mouth.

She opened her eyes and realized she could still see tiny flashes of the lightning through the covers, but it wasn’t scary anymore. She began to pretend she was seeing fireflies, soaring from tree to tree, then up into the sky, and the rain and thunder became giant water balloons being popped by the fireflies’ lights. It was a good place to be, deep beneath the covers, in the dark, with Wyatt at her side.

The fantasy ended with a
scratch
,
scratch
,
scratch
at her bedroom door. It was the monster. He was here. She reached out in the darkness, her voice hardly more than a whisper.

“Wyatt. Did you hear that? The monster is here. He’s coming to get me.”

“I heard,” Wyatt said.

“I’m scared,” Ellie whispered, then crossed her legs and squeezed them tight against her lily, but it was too late. She could already smell the sour odor of pee-pee. Ellie Wayne had wet the bed.

The
scratch
,
scratch
,
scratch
of the monster’s footsteps was in the room now and coming closer.

Ellie closed her eyes and rolled up in a ball. Maybe if she got small enough, the monster couldn’t find her. She said a silent prayer to Baby Jesus, just in case He was listening, and promised she’d take a bath in that blood every Sunday if He’d make the monster go away.

Then just like that, the darkness was gone and the covers were at the foot of the bed. Ellie could smell the monster’s breath. It was always the same. Wyatt said it smelled like roadkill. Ellie thought it smelled a little like Momma’s Christmas pudding just before she lit it on fire.

“No, no, no,” she sobbed and started to shake as she felt the monster’s claws sliding across the sheets, coming closer and closer for her body.

“Don’t cry, Ellie, don’t cry,” Wyatt said. “I’ll go with the monster. You stay here and sleep.”

Ellie refused to answer. She knew from past experience that she couldn’t outtalk Momma. It was better just to let her talk to herself.

Fern carried the bacon and toast to the table and slid it under Ellie’s nose.

“Smells good, Momma, but don’t forget Wyatt’s eggs.”

Fern rolled her eyes. “Have I ever forgotten?” She laid a plate of fluffy scrambled eggs onto the table, then poured two glasses of juice.

As soon as they’d downed their food, Wyatt and Ellie were out the door. Fern followed them onto the porch, still calling out warnings as they disappeared over the hill and headed down to the creek. Even before they got to the trees, they could hear the swift rush of running water.

“Ooh, I bet there’s lots of water in the creek today,” Ellie said as she ran headlong toward the sound.

Wyatt was more hesitant. It was his job to keep her safe and he knew what would happen if he didn’t.

“It will be too deep to wade in,” he reminded her as they reached the trees on the ridge above the creek.

Now it was time to slow down. From here on, the ground sloped downward rather sharply, and even though it was grassy, the recent rain would have made it slippery.

Wyatt was thinking that very thought when Ellie suddenly slipped, and down she went with a squeal, taking him with her.

They hit a bush, then a tree, then lost their grip and slid farther, moving ever closer to the water below.

“I can’t stop!” Ellie cried.

Wyatt clenched his jaw, his focus centered on the half-grown sapling they were about to hit.

Ellie reached toward it, but it was Wyatt who grabbed hold of the trunk and stopped their descent.

“Oh my gosh,” Ellie gasped, as she rolled onto her back to catch her breath.

From where she was lying, she could see pieces of the sky through the trees. Parts of it were dotted with white puffy clouds, and parts of it were a pure, clear blue, and all of it was framed in rich spring green—like God’s version of a patchwork quilt. Ellie thought it was beautiful. If not for the fact they were covered in mud, it would have been worth the fall.

“Wyatt?”