Beyond the Reflection’s Edge (8 page)

Nathan turned his head away and bit his lip hard. This new “father” was worse than insensitive. He was Captain Clueless, an ape in human clothing. He needed to be set straight.

Just as Nathan opened his mouth to object, he caught Kelly’s gaze. Her sad eyes glistening, she mouthed the words “I’m sorry.”

Breathing a silent sigh, Nathan gave her a little nod. It was okay. And this time, it really was. As long as Kelly cared about his grief, nothing else really mattered. But would she understand his nonverbal cues that he wasn’t angry anymore?

As her trembling lips turned upward, Nathan smiled with her. She understood. Somehow his new sister was able to see a lot more than met the eye. If she could communicate that well without making a sound, maybe there was a lot more to her than a pretty face and pink toenails.

During the meal, he glanced at the trunk every couple of minutes. The lasagna, now barely warmer than room temperature, tasted good enough, but it was nothing more than a stomach-filler. Wondering what might be in his father’s trunk consumed his thoughts. Since his father made sure he retrieved it, it couldn’t really be empty. Maybe the inside was lined with
instructions on how to defeat Mictar, or how to understand the technological secrets behind the strange mirror. Who could tell?

He caught Kelly’s gaze again. Her eyes seemed melancholy, yet when she joined him in furtive glances at the trunk, her countenance carried a glimmer of hope that something new and exciting was about to happen. For years he had traveled with his parents all over the world, exploring strange, exotic lands and meeting hundreds of friendly people, yet he always felt alone, no real friends, no one his age to talk to. Now he had a sister. What would it be like living with this lonely, yet hopeful girl?

The mysteries of the evening sparkled in her eyes. They were definitely on the same wavelength. With two almost imperceptible nods, they silently agreed that they would figure out everything together, no matter what.

Nathan slid the trunk against the wall next to his bed and sat on its sturdy wooden top. Breathing a long sigh, he rested his chin on his hands and stared at his reflection in the mirror on the opposite side of the room. The house lay quiet. Clara had rushed away, hoping to get to Davenport and catch a few hours of sleep before her meetings. With his help, Kelly had washed the dishes, then retired to her room, complaining of a headache — something about food allergies. Tony left the house, spinning a basketball on his fingers. “Got a pickup game with the boys,” he had said.

Nathan checked his new wristwatch, one of the many items Clara had brought in a hefty suitcase. The analog face read 11:15, matching the digits on the radio clock on his desk. A Haydn quartet played from the radio’s little speaker, soft enough to blend into the background.

He looked at the mirror and raised a finger as if having a silent conversation with his reflection. Basketball, so late at night? He shrugged. Maybe Tony was telling the truth. Maybe
it was one of those midnight basketball leagues. Lots of guys would want to go out and play basketball late on a Friday, right? His reflection shook its head, copying his own doubtful shake. Then again … maybe not.

He stood and began unbuttoning a new shirt he had just tried on, walking close to the mirror as he reached the bottom button. With only a desk lamp to light the room, his slender, yet toned frame cast a long, narrow shadow across the floor. The image in the mirror mimicked his moves as he threw off his shirt and tossed it behind him, leaving him bare chested except for a small wooden cross attached to a thin leather strap that looped around his neck.

Something bright glinted in his eyes, like a laser beam passing just below his brow. The light in the room dimmed, as if the power were sagging, making his shadow darken. He spun to the side and shook his head scornfully Like a clumsy oaf, he had draped his shirt over the lamp shade. He jerked it away and tossed it onto the trunk, allowing the lamp to flash to life.

He turned back to the mirror. In the reflection, his shadow grew, lengthening and widening until it shrouded the entire image in a dark gray cloud. The lamp’s glow pierced the darkness and cast thin beams onto the mysterious trunk. His shirt had vanished.

Nathan turned completely around. His shirt still lay on the trunk. The light and his shadow remained normal.

A cold shiver sent goose bumps crawling across his skin. Slowly he turned to face the mirror again. Still cloaked in a gray fog, the trunk, the lamp, and the window were the only visible objects.

Creeeak!

That sound! The window! Nathan froze in place, slowly inching his head around toward the real window. Drapes still covered the glass, motionless. He edged toward them. One step.
Another. With a wild swipe, he threw them open. Nothing. Just a dark, rainy night.

A peal of thunder rumbled, sending a new shiver up Nathan’s spine. He released the drapes and stood in front of the mirror again. A hand emerged under the window’s image, pulling it up. No sharp nails this time, just a normal human hand.

He glanced back and forth, watching the action unfold in the mirror and keeping an eye on the real window, still in full light, still undisturbed. A man in a trench coat crawled through the window image, then a woman, the man with a finger to his lips while helping the woman climb in.

Nathan’s whole body shook. He pinched himself, but this couldn’t be a dream. Was the mirror showing a reflection of his thoughts like the museum guy had told Kelly’s father?

The man in the mirror, unrecognizable in the shadows, skulked to the trunk and opened it. Nathan tried to peer inside, but he was too far away to see anything. The woman, also in a trench coat, tiptoed straight up to Nathan, her face becoming clear as she approached, beautiful and serene.

Nathan gasped. “M-Mom?”

He glanced to each side. The room was empty. The woman in the mirror leaned over his shoulder and kissed his reflection on the cheek. A hint of wetness brushed his skin. She then grasped his right hand and kissed it tenderly, finishing with a gentle blow on his knuckles as her distinctive raven tresses spilled across his wrist.

Nathan lowered his gaze to his real hand. His mother’s lips were nowhere to be seen, yet somehow he could feel her breath, warm and gentle.

In the mirror, a sad smile crossed her face as she slowly turned away. She joined the man in front of the trunk, and their bodies blocked his view. They each pulled something from their trench coats, bent low, and placed the objects in the trunk.
They both turned, allowing a beam from the lamp to illuminate the man’s face.

Nathan gulped. “Dad!”

His father crawled back out the window, then helped his mother through again. With a muffled thump, the window closed.

Nathan locked his eyes on the mirror. Only his own image, the lamp, and the trunk remained — the open trunk. He swung around. The trunk in the room was closed, his shirt still draping it. He spun back toward the mirror and took a step in reverse. His reflection stepped backwards. He took another step. His reflection took another step. As he continued to edge back, the Nathan in the mirror closed in on the trunk behind him until his heels collided with its base.

Slowly bending his knees, Nathan reached behind his body. Would his image lower its hands into the open trunk? It did! And he could feel his own hands go inside, moving farther down than the top of the trunk should have allowed.

Were his hands really inside the trunk now? He didn’t dare turn to look. The trunk might slam shut and chop his hands off at the wrists. He pushed down, feeling carefully with his fingers. Each hand latched onto an object, familiar objects, but he couldn’t quite figure out what they were. As though carrying downy chicks, he coaxed the objects slowly upward.

Still watching his reflection, now at a distance twice the length of the room, he pulled the objects out of the trunk and laid them carefully on the floor. Leaping to his feet, he spun around. The trunk was still closed, his shirt on top, but a camera and a violin lay in front of it.

He dropped to his knees and snatched up the camera. It was Dad’s Nikon! He laid it down and picked up the violin, lovingly caressing its polished wood. Mom’s Guaneri!

His throat caught. Tears welled in his eyes. He scrambled for his new violin case, snapped it open, and grabbed his bow.
Pushing his mother’s violin under his chin, he rested the bow across the D string, then, with a gentle, reverent stroke, played a long, sweet note.

The sound penetrated his body, sending gentle vibrations along his skin. He played another note, then a melody, measures from the Vivaldi duet. Closing his eyes, breathless and crying, his soul drank in the beautiful music. His heart sang, and in his mind, his mother sang with him. Her voice soothed his grieving soul. He wept for her, for his father, for the tragedy that had left his life in a shambles.

After finishing a crescendo, he let his arms droop and laid the violin gently on the floor. He picked up the camera again and checked the counter. Six pictures left.

He slid the violin in front of his knees and focused the lens, then, with a flick of his finger, he turned on the flash. His father had never upgraded to a modern digital camera. That wasn’t his way. He preferred the quality of film and the nuances of craftsmanship he could add to his photo creations by developing them himself. Nathan had spent dozens of hours in dark rooms watching him bring negatives to life, even helping him at times and learning the basics of the art.

He caressed the surface, marred by dozens of bumps and dings it had earned through its years of service. As he smiled at its familiar touch, his skin tingled. Now the camera was his. More valuable than gold, this treasure would be with him forever. Yet, it would also be an eternal reminder, flashing again and again the image in the coffins, his dead parents mutilated by a brutal traitor. A wave of sadness drew his lips downward. This camera would be a bittersweet token, carrying both a burning acid and a healing salve.

Aiming the camera at the violin, he pushed the shutter button and listened to the auto-advance zip the film ahead. He stood again and turned toward the mirror. It was back to
normal — no open window, no weird shadows. The trunk was closed, and his shirt covered the top.

He strode halfway across the room and raised the camera. What would a picture of his reflection look like? He pressed the button. The flash of light bounced off the mirror and radiated back to the lens, sending an electric jolt through his hands. The camera flew from his grip, but, just before it hit the ground, he snagged the strap and swung it back up.

Looking the casing over, he checked the meters. The film had advanced, and the flash indicator showed a charge. Everything seemed fine. He draped the strap around his neck and let the camera dangle at his chest. Taking a picture of the mirror wasn’t a great idea.

Echoes of laughter filtered through the hall, male and female, then a shushing sound. Grabbing his shirt and throwing it on, he tiptoed to the bedroom door and paused there, fastening his buttons under the swaying camera. A light knock sounded from the other side, then a whispered call. “Nathan!”

Kelly’s voice! He turned the knob and cracked the door open. “What’s up?”

“Shhh! … Are you decent?”

“Yeah, I —”

She pushed the door and squeezed through. “Good.” Dressed in a long bathrobe and wool socks, she glanced around the room, her voice barely audible. “Who else is in here?”

“Who else?” he whispered back. “What are you talking about?”

“I was on my way to the bathroom. I heard voices.”

He peeked out the door. “I heard a woman laughing. Could that be it?”

“No.” She pushed the door closed with her back and held the knob. “That’s my dad. He’s … uh … playing cards, I think.”

“Oh … Cards.” Nathan furrowed his brow. He finally realized what Kelly’s father was up to. “Is he playing solitaire?”

She tilted her head downward and shook it slowly. “He’s not really playing cards at all.” After a few seconds, she lifted her head again and gazed at him. Her brown eyes glistened. “I guess your dad never did stuff like that, did he?”

“No.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “He had a lot of old-fashioned ideas.”

Kelly’s lips curled downward. She spun to the side and bit one of her knuckles.

Nathan’s heart sank. How could he be such a pig? What her father was doing was breaking her heart. He reached for her shoulder, but pulled back. “I’m sorry. I … I didn’t really mean it that way.”

Her voice cracked. “Yes, you did, and I deserved it.”

He reached again. This time he let his hand settle gently on her shoulder. She flinched, but only for a second. “How long has your mother been gone?”

“Maybe three months, but they’ve been sleeping apart for years.” Wiping her eyes, she shrugged and forced a trembling smile. “She just found another guy and took off, like trading in an old car for a new model.”

He pulled his hand away. “And you got left in the backseat?”

“Yeah. Something like that. She said I was more like a son than a daughter, so I’d be better off with Daddy.”

Nathan winced. “Oh, man! That’s gotta hurt!”

“Don’t worry,” she said with a sigh. “I’m used to it.” Shaking her hair out of her eyes, she turned toward him again, wiping a tear. Her voice still trembled. “Anyway, I heard other voices. They came from your room.”

“There’s no one else here.” He gestured toward the mirror. “Just me and my reflection.”

“I know what I heard, and it wasn’t your voice. Someone said, ‘Buckingham is as opulent as I imagined,’ but I couldn’t make out the rest.”

“Buckingham? Like Buckingham Palace?”

“I guess so. I’m not the one who said it.”

“Well, I didn’t say anything about Buckingham Palace.” He turned toward the mirror — still normal. “But lots of weird stuff has been going on.”

She slid her finger behind the camera strap. “Like taking pictures of your room at midnight?”

“That’s part of it.” He held the camera up for her to see. “This is … I mean, was, my dad’s camera. It was in the trunk.”