The Spirit Keeper (12 page)

I glanced at the digital clock on the stove. I’d have to hurry. If we got our normal before-closing rush today, Meg would come calling for me, bad mood or not.

I grabbed the pair of dirty sneakers I’d left sitting by the back door and shoved my feet into them. Then I re-twisted my hair into a tight knot to keep it from getting in the way. Before my resolve fizzled and I had a chance to come to my senses, I hurried out the front door and down the garden path to the gate.

Once there, I had to stand on my tip-toes in order to see out the diamond-shaped peep-hole. Directly across the street was Adrian’s house, and I was able to get an unobstructed view from this vantage point without risking them seeing me. The U-Haul was gone, as well as Adrian’s blue Beetle. His dad’s rusty Toyota was still parked in the driveway, though. Maybe this wasn’t going to work, after all.

I watched the house for a few minutes, chewing my bottom lip as I waited for some sign that Victor was home. But the longer I watched, the more abandoned the house appeared. Convinced that Adrian must have gotten Victor to go with him to town, I moved forward with the next phase of my plan. I took a deep breath and, deciding once and for all that the coast was clear, opened the gate and crossed the threshold.

And then I just stood there. It was the most idiotic plan ever. Not only was I doing exactly what David and Meg told me not to do, it was probably illegal. I would probably get hauled off to juvie if I got caught. But the house looked empty enough, so I really didn’t see the harm in taking a quick peek in a few of the windows, just to make sure everything looked okay. Anyway, David had done it.

There were a handful of kids riding their bikes up and down the street, but the few adults who were outside were too busy mowing their yards, cleaning their gutters, or washing their cars to take any notice of me. They hadn’t the slightest interest in what I was doing, which was just as well.

Five minutes. That’s all I wanted. David and Meg wouldn’t even miss me.

I took a deep breath and leapt from the sidewalk, and then I quick-walked up Victor’s driveway like I had every right to be there. But I detoured at the last minute to the side of the house, finally stopping at the base of a first floor window. I crouched down, only then realizing that what I was doing at that precise moment definitely qualified as suspicious. Oh well. It was too late now.

I rose on my haunches and peered into what was the living room. Aside from the mismatched furniture ensemble consisting of a worn leather sofa and a faded mauve La-Z-Boy, the room was sparsely furnished. There was a dingy coffee table and small side table with one of its legs duct-taped together, but other than that there was nothing of interest but a few unpacked boxes. No television. No bookshelves. There were no curtains on the windows or pictures on the fireplace mantle. It was bare bones.

From where I was crouched, I could see just past the interior front entrance of the house. My gaze traveled the length of a wide foyer where light spilled in through a stained-glass window. It cast colorful patterned shapes on the wood floor that extended up the opposite wall where they seemed to shimmer.

A movement beyond caught my attention, and my heart skipped a beat when I saw Victor. He was home, after all, and sitting at the kitchen table flipping through the pages of a newspaper.

Victor was not a nice-looking man. His hair was much shorter than Adrian’s and not quite as black. I could see the white even from where I was. Unlike Adrian’s round face, Victor’s was long with a sharp chin and eyebrows that seemed to be permanently pulled together. His nose was a little hooked, and his thin lips were pressed into a tight scowl. I wondered if he always looked so mad.  

It was then that I realized that from where Victor was sitting at the kitchen table, he had a perfect view of his front yard. Had he seen me come out the gate and creep up his driveway? Surely not, otherwise he’d be demanding to know what I wanted.

But even as I was second-guessing my level of intelligence for doing what I was doing, Victor got up and disappeared to an area of the kitchen that was out of my line of sight. I quickly turned around and slouched beneath the window frame, breathing heavily.

I was acting like a complete nimrod. I was a smart girl—in theory, if not always in practice. So why had I thought that coming over here and sticking my nose where it didn’t belong was a good idea? At the very least, I should have high-tailed it out of there as soon as I saw that Victor was home. I should have gone right back the way I had come. Or maybe I should have just listened to Meg and David in the first place.

I scooted along the brick wall to the far corner of the house with the intention of taking off and making my getaway through the neighbor’s back yard. All I’d have to do was run down a few houses before crossing the street again. And if Victor happened to look out the window and see me, he would assume I’d been out for a walk.

But then I heard the creak of the back door opening. I sneaked a look around the corner in time to see Victor come out and stand rooted in the middle of the deck, the phone pressed against his ear. He was scowling even more than usual.

“I am your father, and you will listen to me.” There was a moment of silence as his features contorted into a mask of rage. And then: “We’re not going anywhere until this problem has been taken care of once and for all. You will do as I say!”

I gasped at the ferocity of his tone and took off running toward the street as fast as I could, and was on the other side of the gate within a matter of seconds. I was safe at my own house, even though my limbs were shaking so hard in their sockets I thought they’d jiggle loose.

Victor had obviously been talking to either Adrian or Shyla, but what was the “problem” he referred to?

He’s not talking about me, I thought, my palms sweaty and heart racing. I couldn’t be the problem that needed to be taken care of. He could’ve been talking about anything. I was just being paranoid because of what Meg and David said.

I stood on my tip-toes and looked through the peep-hole once more, and my heart jumped in my throat at the sight of Victor now standing in his front doorway, arms crossed over his chest.

Looking back at me.

True to the fickle nature of weather in upstate New York, a cold front blew in Saturday night that dumped a steady stream of rain and left us holed-up until late Sunday morning.

The temperature dropped nearly twenty degrees and erased all traces of stickiness from the air. And once the wind finally stopped gusting, Meg went from one room to the next, throwing open windows to let in the cooler, rain-soaked breeze.

Priscilla and I had made plans to get together that afternoon, but she called early in the morning to say that her dad had unexpectedly arrived home from his latest business trip. He was taking her out to lunch and shopping.

“You have to work parental guilt to your advantage,” she explained to me.

So I spent the majority of the day hiding out in my room with the door closed, nestled cozily in the blankets on my bed and surrounded by my library of books and old framed photographs of my mom. My own photo album had been lost in the fire. What little physical evidence that remained of my mom had been handed down from Meg’s personal collection.

I picked up one of the photos and held it inches from my nose, trying to absorb every minor detail. My mother hadn’t been much older than I when it was taken. Her black hair, long and lustrous, was pulled up on one side and held in place by a turquoise turtle-shaped clip. Her eyes were dark and mischievous; her smile teasing. She looked like trouble personified, but the
 
good
 
kind of trouble: prank calls and buzzing the neighbor’s doorbell before running away. Not the kind of trouble that leaves a lasting legacy—the kind of trouble that forces you from the only home and people you’ve ever known.

Not the kind of trouble that gets innocent people hurt or killed.

I put down the photo and picked up another. In this one, the sun was hitting my mom square in the face. She had one eye squinted, as though winking, and her mouth was wide open. I could almost hear the memory of her sweet, tinkling laughter, so infectious it made me smile just to think of it.

“I miss the sound of your voice, Mom,” I whispered. There was a terrible ache in the center of my chest, and my throat felt like it was on fire.

There was a photo of my mom with a young Meg, and an even younger David, standing on either side of her. She had her arms slung around their shoulders, and they were both looking up at her face with obvious adoration in their eyes. My mom was looking straight into the camera with a stubborn smirk. At whatever angle I held the photo, she seemed to be looking right at me. It was my favorite.

The last photo featured my mom with my grandparents standing behind her. She was holding a newborn baby in her arms, and there was a “Welcome Home” sign hanging on a distant wall. She looked impossibly young to be a mother, but her joy was almost tangible. It hung about her like a halo and seemed to make her glow from the inside out.

I had been wanted and loved by these people, I realized, even if not by my tribe. It hadn’t mattered to my family where I came from; only that I was there and theirs to keep.

I swallowed my grief then kissed the tip of my index finger and pressed it to the image of my mother and grandparents. My heart hung like a heavy weight in my chest, as though years of sadness had caused the blood to congeal to a thick sludge. This is exactly what a broken heart feels like, I thought.

I had so many questions about my mom that I didn’t think anyone would ever be able to answer. The most important of them being, what
really
happened in the woods the day she disappeared? No one could know for sure. No one, that is, except my mother.

And my father.

Before, whenever I’d thought about the future, I’d imagined going away to college. Maybe I’d become a teacher or go to med school. Maybe I’d become a journalist or start my own business, like Meg. I didn’t really know, but the possibility to do whatever had always been there.

Now, I had so much more to consider: the tribe, Victor and Shyla, my feelings for Adrian . . . my father. Was he somewhere, out there?

I shivered at the thought of him. Of ever coming face to face with him. Of ever speaking to him.

I got out of bed and once again arranged the photos in their proper places. With my chemistry homework already done and in no mood to watch TV, I got ready for bed.

As I was mindlessly brushing my hair, a task that usually calmed me, a movement outside the window caught my attention. I was sure I’d seen the shadow of a person from the corner of my eye, and the hair at the nape of my neck prickled.

I scrambled to the window and cautiously stuck my head out a few inches. “Is anyone there?” I said, scanning the yard. But there was no answer. Even so, I slammed the window shut. And for the first time since the fire, I locked it tight.

Two weeks. That’s what was standing between me and summer vacation.

Since freshmen year, graduation had always hung just out of reach, the proverbial brass ring of my high-school career. Now it was just around the corner, and I was one step closer to the next phase of my life. But instead of being filled with excitement like I usually was, all I felt was doubt and fear about the future.  

My head was in the clouds Monday morning as I said goodbye to Meg and set off on my way to school. Despite the weekend drama, I had finals to think about, and I was stressing out big time about the oral part of the exam I’d have to give in Spanish. It wasn’t that I didn’t know my stuff; I had a solid A in the class. But Katie was in the same period, and I wasn’t putting anything past her. Just the thought of what she might do to sabotage my grade made my palms sweat.

The grumbling rev of a car’s engine pulled me back to reality, and I looked up just as Adrian was backing out of his driveway. I did my best to ignore him, but my stomach flipped when he pulled up alongside me and asked if I wanted a ride. I cast a nervous glance over my shoulder, half expecting Meg and David to be standing there wagging their fingers in reproach.