The Recluse Storyteller (23 page)

Mrs. Trumble huffed indignantly.

“Mrs. Johnson. After what she did to your girls, barging illegally into your residence, you must raise your hand. The case is clear.”

“Mrs. Trumble, I’m sorry, but there is nothing dangerous about Margaret. In fact, I can’t tell you how much she has helped me.”

“Helped you! Are all you people insane? Reverend Davies, tell me you know what is going on here.”

“I do, in a way,” he said standing up and looking at everyone in the room with a realization that they were all thinking the same thing—except for the accuser, that is. “Margaret has a gift. We all see it.”

“I don’t see anything,” shouted Mrs. Trumble.

“Can you see the door?” quipped Cheevers.

Mrs. Trumble rolled up her lips and tightened her brow.

“What is this? A conspiracy against me? Huh?”

“No, Mrs. Trumble. This is no conspiracy. We’ve seen too much to act hastily.”

Mrs. Trumble huffed again, looked one more time at Mrs. Johnson, whose rebuttal of her views really stung, and then marched to the door.

“You
can
see the door! Praise the Lord, right Reverend?” the smart-alecky Cheevers said in triumph as Mrs. Trumble stomped down the hallway and disappeared into her own apartment.

“Well,” said Janice, trying to calm down the chatter. “I guess we all know where you stand on the matter. The question is ‘why’?”

This question cowered them all back a little, as they were reluctant to move from the generic to the personal. Each one had their own reasons why Margaret needed to stay exactly where she was, except for Mr. Tomsey, who just wanted her excellent work to continue. Mrs. Johnson, Cheevers, and Reverend Davies were decidedly not eager to share their tales, so they all just sat there silently, and nervously pondered the claim that Margaret had upon them.

“I see that she’s touched you. I can feel it. She’s touched you in a unique way.”

“She said things about me that nobody in this apartment block knows,” blurted out Cheevers. “But it wasn’t about me; it was in this story that she told, but it was about me. That’s why I’ve been drunk for the last two days. She got inside my head, and I wanted her to stop, but yet I couldn’t bear her not continuing. And then she just walked into my apartment and …”

Cheevers said no more.

“I listened to a story she told the girls the other day on the phone and …” Mrs. Johnson broke into the silence with tears in her eyes. Janice came over and put her arm around her. “Nobody here knows this. But I don’t know where my husband is.”

Everyone, wide-eyed, glanced around the room at eat other, grasping for something to say.

“I’ve been telling others that Brad has been on a work assignment. But I haven’t heard from him in over two weeks, and … I’m going to have a baby boy.” She broke down again in more tears as the entire room, with eyes dampened, grieved for her. “And the story she told, it felt like it was about me even though it was set over one hundred years ago.”

Reverend Davies felt the need to share what had been burdening him for a long time.

“The same thing happened to me. She referred to a story about a man named Jackson and his Vietnam War buddy, concerning a terrible incident a long time ago. My middle name is Jackson. In the army, that’s what I went by. Also, I was the platoon commander for Margaret’s father’s platoon. She told me the end of the story, which I never knew. And there is no way she could have known either. But she did.”

Everyone looked at each other, feeling somewhat frozen. Mrs. Johnson wiped her face with a tissue and headed down the hall to check on the girls. As she reached the door and peeked inside, something wasn’t right.

“They’re gone! The girls are gone!” she yelled to everyone in the living room. But then she calmed herself immediately and ran in announcing, “… but I’m sure I know where they are. Shall we all take a walk to Margaret’s place?”

They all nodded in unison and began making the familiar trip down the hallway.

Chapter 19

Two Revealed, Two Remain

Margaret was expecting them and, actually, so were the twins, but they both felt that things wouldn’t go exactly how they went the first time around. The girls were on the couch and had brought their own stash of candy. Margaret, head tilted backwards with eyes closed, sat in her recliner, regaling the end of the story. The entire quorum gently walked in and sat around Margaret like a group of grandchildren might do to their grandmother who was set to tell a bedtime story. Margaret continued without skipping a beat.

* * *

“It was morning, but low-hanging clouds hovered over River’s End Orphanage, fooling everyone that it wasn’t yet time to get up and to do their chores. Finally, Georgia and Gwen, with Benjamin in her arms, descended the flight of steps, ready for another breakfast the same as the day before. The rest of the children milled around, and Mrs. Chesterway scolded the cook viciously for not having breakfast ready in time, which would in turn push back all of the day’s events.

“It was at that moment when a tall, distinguished-looking gentleman walked through the front door and headed straight to see Mrs. Chesterway. He had a slightly coiled up mustache which made Georgia very skeptical of him. His mannerisms were firm and unfriendly, moving more like the parts of a pump rather than that of a human. He delivered some news that made Mrs. Chesterway smile broadly and glance over at the girls, who were sitting at the end of the long dining table. The gentleman promptly bowed his head slightly, then plodded out of the orphanage one part at a time. Mrs. Chesterway quickly came towards the girls and asked them to follow her. Gwen passed Benjamin off to one of the older girls, and they walked into a back room, which was full of papers and books.

“‘Girls, I have some news.’

“Georgia was sure that it was good news about her father. She couldn’t contain herself.

“‘It’s Father. He’s come back, hasn’t he?’ she excitedly burst out.

“‘Oh dear child. No. It’s nothing like that. I wanted you to know that the gentleman who just left was a Mr. Baldwin from the firm who is trying to sell your family’s farm. He came to notify me that just last night someone secured the deed, and so the property will soon be in their possession. The good news is, children, that this will assure you that you will have enough money to pay for your time at River’s End Orphanage and that you will be able to get a decent education, too. You should be able to learn a trade so that you can properly earn a living when you are older. Isn’t that good news?’

“Both girls felt faint with disappointment, nodded politely at Mrs. Chesterway, and asked to be excused.

“‘Before you leave, there is one additional matter I need to discuss with you. I guess I need to just say it right out because it will be in the best interests of everyone. Mr. & Mrs. Harper from town have inquired about the possibility of taking baby Benjamin into their family.’

“The girls stood, hearts ripped out, gutted completely by her words. They couldn’t react, let alone cry.

“‘You both know that you are far too young to take care of someone so small and fragile. He needs a family to love and care for him. You two are old enough to care for yourself, but Benjamin, he needs a mother. I’m sorry, but this is the way it must be. We have no other choice.’

“Georgia turned and ran straight out the front door of the orphanage to the crab apple tree, which stood on a small embankment down near the dirt road that led to town. Gwen went straight to Benjamin, taking him out of the hands of her friend. She cuddled him a bit closer than usual as he playfully reached for the bangs that cascaded down her forehead.

“Georgia curled up at the base of the tree and wept. It was all her fault. She thought if only she hadn’t forced Gwen to go on the picnic that mother would still be alive. She blamed the light. The folly of the light. The trickery of the mark across the sky. She blamed her father, who only played with their emotions. She kept hearing the words again and again in her mind ‘Be brave.’

“‘I can’t. I’m not brave. I’m not brave at all,’ she screamed to the sky and tucked her head against the truck of the tree.

“Something from behind, a feeling, a presence, sent a tingle up her spine. It was something she had felt before, but something she dared not hope for. A shadow cast its way over her being. She refused to turn around. She refused to believe. And then she heard the high-pitched whinny of a horse. A familiar horse. She turned around in expectation and saw him standing there.

“‘Papa?’

“‘You are brave. You are the bravest girl in the whole world,’ he said, reaching down and encompassing her in his arms. She cried on his shoulder as if the whole earth had given her a river of tears at her disposal. She would need every crisscrossed turn, every runoff, every estuary that this river contained in order to express her feelings right now. Finally, she backed away from him and knew she had to make sure.

“‘Are you for real?’

“‘I am. And we shall never be alone again.’

“‘I must go get Gwen and Benjamin.’ She ran part way to the former Victorian mansion, stopping only once to look back. Her father was indeed grabbing the reins of Starling, leading him towards the house. He truly had returned.”

* * *

At that moment, a tall, vacant-faced stranger, a little perplexed and slightly embarrassed stood in the doorway. He looked down the hallway and back into the room at the enraptured audience and then slightly cleared his throat. Sam was the first to notice. Her face lit up like a child on her birthday. They would be twelve tomorrow, after all.

“Dad!”

She jumped out of her seat and hurled herself into the arms of Mr. Johnson. Pam was barely a step behind her. Mrs. Johnson nearly fainted, her knees giving way, and Reverend Davies quickly braced her shoulders, so she wouldn’t fall over. She caught her husband’s eye and immediately put her hand over her lower stomach and rubbed it gently. The two weeks of terror and self-doubt were over. She had braved the storm, and she didn’t care for things of fault or blame or other things which drive people away. All she wanted was a father for her girls and a partner for her loneliness. She smiled at him and continued rubbing her stomach. He understood immediately and mouthed the words ‘I’m sorry’ to her. Tears came, of course. She walked over to him and caressed his hand slightly, looking back and smiling at Margaret with a faint hint of gratitude. She didn’t even know why she felt appreciation, but it was as if someone had just spoken into her life. The reunited family walked down the hallway, not once looking back, or not once offering a simple verbal ‘thank you’. One wasn’t necessary.

The room was overtaken with emotion. Reverend Davies smiled at Janice, and Cheevers felt a bit of satisfaction which seemed to temper his massive headache.

“So, I take it that was Mr. Johnson?” asked Mr. Tomsey, who seemed to be the least emotionally involved in the meeting but found the whole evening quite enthralling, nonetheless.

Janice smiled and nodded, then turned back to Margaret, who sat calmly, playing with the silly cushion buttons that often amused her. Reverend Davies came around the edge of the couch to take a seat where the twins had been sitting when he glanced down at the floor and noticed the dozen or so waded up stationary papers with the church’s letterhead that Margaret had strewn about. Margaret had read the letters but not appreciated their content. He leaned forward, poised to ask Margaret about them when she stood up and walked over to Cheevers, who was pleasantly blowing his nose, trying to acclimate himself to the strange sense of emotions he had been experiencing lately.

“Red Hat.”

“Yes. It’s been very well established that I wear a red hat, or cap, I guess.” He looked up at her with a nervous twitch and paused for a moment. “Are you going to make me cry again?”

* * *

“Red Hat put the car in drive and pulled out, watching as police car after police car yielded to the suspect who was being allowed to walk free.

“‘Red Hat on the move. Delta team. Do you copy?’

“‘Delta copy. From the roof of the Hetchworth Building, we have a clear visual. Do you want us to take the shot?’”

* * *

Cheevers saw the scene clearly. The gun pointed at his head, hand twitching, waiting for the one vital click of the trigger that would end it all.

“Yes, shoot!” yelled Cheevers, eyes intense, burning with rage and fear.

* * *

“‘No,’ cried Williams. ‘Do not take the shot. I repeat. Do not take the shot.’

“‘Are you sure?’ asked Delta team for clarification. ‘We may never get another clean shot.’”

* * *

“Take the shot. Shoot!” yelled Cheevers.

* * *

“‘I said “no”,’ shouted Williams back emphatically.

“He had never spoken with such conviction. He had to be tough on this one. Every piece of flesh and bone in his body called out for him to give the order. It would have solved a lot. Actually, it would have solved everything. But he knew it would have been the wrong thing to do.”