House of Fallen Trees (4 page)

CHAPTER SIX

Later that evening, the three of them sat on the front porch with mugs of Earl Grey spiked with whiskey. The air was chilly and through the towering pines they could see a starry sky hanging low and ominous.
   “So, I take it you and Sean were close?” Saul asked Karen.
   She sipped her tea. “When we were kids we were, yeah.”
   “Huh.” Rory shifted in his chair. “He didn’t talk very much about his past. I got the feeling that…well, that you weren’t close at all.”
   “I guess we drifted apart over the years,” she admitted. “I’m sure that was more my fault than his. I’m a bit of a loner these days.”
   “Sean was never actually Mr. Sociable either,” Saul said.
   Rory shot him a look. “He’s sociable enough.”
   Karen couldn’t help but notice Rory’s tense slip. Did he believe Sean was out in the world somewhere? After all these months?
   “Besides,” Rory went on, “The Lantern isn’t exactly the friendliest place on the planet. Unless you’re a native.” He looked at Karen. “And unless you were born here, you’re never a native.”
   “It’s not that bad,” Rory assured her. “Saul is exaggerating, as usual.”
   Amused, Karen smiled at them. The two seemed to have a rapport that went back a long time. More like brothers than friends and she said as much.
   After clearing his throat, Rory said, “Why don’t you tell us more about Sean as a kid? That should be good for a laugh or two. You said you were close then?”
   “Pretty close, I guess.” Karen gazed deep into the depths of her mug. “Sean was always a shy kid. And small for his age. I remember being very overprotective of him when we were young. The other kids were always giving him a hard time in school. We used to have a connection back then. It was really quite odd. Whenever he was in trouble, I just, somehow…
knew
.”
   She let herself be carried away by the nearly faded memories, amazed at how long it had been since she’d thought about her childhood with her brother. Rory and Saul didn’t interrupt as she told them about one day in particular. A spring when she was twelve and Sean was ten.
   She’d been walking home from another day at South Junior High School, swinging her backpack, lost inside a story she’d been making up in her head to pass the time when she’d suddenly thought of Sean and a feeling of dread had overcome her. Without giving it a second thought, she’d reversed direction and began running towards the elementary school where she knew Sean was. He’d joined the school choir that year and had been staying late to practice with them.
   Karen had no idea what was happening to her brother—only that he was in trouble and needed her and, sure enough, when she’d reached the school, having raced around to the back where the cafeteria was, she found a group of about six boys outside surrounding him, shoving him back and forth between them.
   “Hey!” Karen had shouted as she ran towards them. “Leave him alone!”
   And then the pack had turned on her instead, one of them going so far as to jump on her back, trying to bring her down.
   It was that day Karen had learned that kicking a boy in the crotch, as her father had advised under such circumstances, was not nearly as easy in execution as it was in theory. Males, even at that early age, had already mastered the twist and block and she wasn’t able to land even a single kick that found its target.

The boys, jeering and taunting, calling Sean “faggot” and herself “dyke” and “whore,” had continued their assault until a teacher on his way to his car in the nearby parking lot had finally put an end to it.
   Karen had been enraged by the end, while Sean struggled not to cry, and together they’d walked home, bruised but more humiliated than hurt.
   To make matters worse, the parent of one of the boys had called their mother and complained that Karen had attempted to beat him up while hurling insults at him.
   Both she and Sean had vehemently denied the accusation, trying to tell their side of the story, but their mother had wanted to hear none of it and Karen had been punished.
   Drinking down the rest of her tea, she was surprised to find herself angry all over again when she’d finished relating the story to Saul and Rory. It seemed to sum up her entire relationship with her parents. She remembered now why she didn’t like to dwell on her past and at least partly why that relationship had always been strained to the point of breaking.
   She did her best to put her parents out of her mind and focus solely on Sean and other examples of their seemingly psychic connection.
   All the times Sean had run away from home, it had been his sister who always knew where to find him, no matter how often he changed his hiding place.
   When he’d been sad or scared or worried, Karen had known, even when she hadn’t been in his presence, and she’d gone to him to soothe or comfort him, to ease his mind in the best way another child could.
   Lost in these thoughts, she spoke in the same way she wrote—forgetting where she was until it was time to breathe again. Then she looked around as if she’d just woken up from a long sleep, surprised to find herself in the company of others, blinking like a person coming up from a state of hypnosis.
   After a long moment, Saul said, “Wow. That was a hell of a story.” He looked at Rory. “Did you know about any of this?”
   Rory shook his head, looking nearly as dazed as Karen. “I wish I had.”
   “Too bad you weren’t here when Sean first disappeared,” Saul said to Karen. “Maybe that ‘psychic connection’ would have done us some good.”
   But Karen was skeptical. “I doubt it. Like I said, Sean and I kind of lost that connection after a while.”
   “That’s ridiculous,” Rory said in a scoffing tone. “There’s no such thing as a psychic connection anyway.”
   Saul ignored him, keeping his attention on Karen. “It reminds me of what you sometimes read about twins. How they always know when the other is upset and can sometimes even feel the pain the other is feeling.”
   “Well,” she said, “I never felt his physical pain, but other than that, I guess it’s a pretty good comparison to make.”
   “Did it go both ways? Could he sense when you were upset?”
   “Not as much. At least he didn’t share it if he could. I always assumed that was because I was older and was expected by my parents to be his protector.”
   “Interesting,” Saul replied.
   The three of them fell into a silence then, each thinking his or her own thoughts about Sean and the boy or man he had been. Several minutes passed and then Saul got to his feet. “I think I need a refill,” he said. “This time maybe with a little more whiskey than tea. Can I get more for either of you guys?”
   Karen and Rory both handed over their mugs and agreed to another round. It wasn’t until he had gone back inside that Karen saw Rory staring off into the woods, his eyes glistening. She sat forward in her chair and touched his knee.
   “What’s wrong?” she asked.
   He shook his head sadly. “I just can’t believe he didn’t tell me some of this stuff.”
   “Maybe…” she began, uncertain of what she was going to say until the words were tumbling out of her mouth. “Maybe he didn’t want to think about those days any more than I did. I wouldn’t take it personally. He just had a rough time back then.”
   “I’m not talking about mean parents or school bullies. I’m talking about you. Being his protector.” Rory sniffed loudly but refused to let any tears fall. “I thought that was my role. I mean…I thought I was the only one who he’d ever…” He trailed off, his eyes hardening.
   “Who he’d ever needed?” she guessed.
   He nodded. “You have no idea how hard we looked for him when he first disappeared. How hard
I
looked. Search parties. Private investigators. Posters, T-shirts, bumper stickers. The whole nine yards. And when everyone said it was hopeless…when everyone else had given up, I still soldiered on alone. I looked everywhere I could think of. I even contacted his old boyfriends that I knew about. Hell, I’m
still
looking for him. In every stranger’s face I see, on the goddamn television...I just don’t know what else to do.”
   Rory finally broke down then, leaning over and sobbing into his hands.
   Karen got up and sat in the chair Saul had previously occupied, stroking Rory’s back silently. She knew there were no words she could say to calm him and didn’t even attempt it.
   Eventually Saul returned with their mugs and when he saw what was happening, he too said nothing. Just handed Karen her drink while setting Rory’s on the porch floor beside his chair and waited for the flood of tears to abate.
   The wait seemed long, but neither Saul nor Karen complained. Instead, they watched the sky darken around them while the air grew chillier and the sound of a man weeping slowly subsided.

CHAPTER SEVEN

The morning dawned gray and wet, as mornings in the Northwest often do. The smell of coffee tickled Karen’s nose as she opened her eyes, momentarily confused by the sight of the faded floral wallpaper all around her. Then she remembered: she was in Washington, in some guy named Saul’s tiny spare bedroom. The room could barely contain the twin bed and a scarred wooden dresser against one wall.
   She sat up, inhaled the luscious coffee scent, and looked out the one window at the overcast day. She could see pines, of course, and not much else. Just a corner of the house next door.
   At first she was amazed by the total and complete silence of her surroundings, but as she pricked her ears she was able to hear murmurings coming from beyond the bedroom door. The guys were obviously up and trying to keep their voices low so as not to disturb their guest.
   After a long, leisurely stretch, she tossed the covers aside and hopped out of bed, anxious to begin the day and see the B&B at last. She wished the spare bedroom came with its own private bath, but in a house so small, she wasn’t particularly surprised that it didn’t.
   No matter. She wasn’t the kind of woman who slept in slinky nightgowns anyway. She wore a pair of old blue boxers and a Boston Red Sox T-shirt.
   She dug around in her bag for her toothbrush and exited the room, which was just off the kitchen.
   Rory and Saul were seated at a round kitchen table, each drinking coffee from non-matching ceramic mugs.
Boys after my own heart,
she thought, giving them a sleepy smile. “Good morning.”
   “Morning,” Rory said, raising his cup to her. “Coffee’s on if you drink it.”
   “I have tea too, if you’d prefer that,” Saul said.
   “Oh, I’m a coffee gal,” she said. “I couldn’t function without it.”
   The men exchanged a smile and she looked at them wonderingly. “Just like Sean,” Rory explained. “He drank coffee almost non-stop. Even if it was eleven o’clock at night, he had to have his java.”
   “Huh,” she said, trying to remember if this little detail about her brother was one she’d already known or if it was news to her.
   “Hope you don’t mind organic toothpaste,” Saul interrupted her thought, gesturing at the pink toothbrush she held.
   She smiled again. “That’s fine. I’m ashamed I forgot to brush last night. I can’t remember the last time that happened.”
   “You were pretty wiped,” Rory said, getting up to refill his mug. “Do you take cream and sugar in your coffee?”
   “
Soy
creamer and
raw
sugar,” Saul said, as if this were extremely important information.
   “Perfect,” she said. “I guess I’ll take a shower first, though, if that’s okay.”
   “Of course.” Saul rose from his chair. “I’ll just get you some fresh towels.”
   She thanked him yet again before returning to her room for her bag and fresh clothes.
   After a quick shower, she was even more anxious to get going but managed to sit still with the men and enjoy the coffee waiting for her when she emerged from the bathroom, hair damp and smelling of fresh peaches. By the time everyone was ready to hit the road it was just after nine AM. She was convinced this was a new record for her, as she usually didn’t get out of bed before eleven.
   Once more piled into the Jeep, they began their trek to Fallen Trees in good spirits, talking animatedly about each of their various occupations. She was surprised when Rory told her that in addition to his summer school duties he also owned the one and only bar in Fallen Trees, The Lantern.
   “It was called The Juniper Lantern when I bought the place ten years ago, but I shortened it, ‘cause I thought the name might sound more faggy with a fag running it.” Both he and Saul laughed heartily at this. “Anyway, now with the B&B in the works, the townsfolk are joking that pretty soon I’ll own half of Fallen Trees.”
   “The bar does pretty good then?” Karen asked.
   “Yeah,” he replied. “I don’t think we have a single non-drinker in the whole place. Pretty much everyone comes into The Lantern at least once a day, even if it’s just to talk to someone else.”
   “If they leave their house at all,” Saul added, “They’re in the Lantern.”
   Karen turned in her seat to look at him. “You’re there a lot too, huh?”
   “The Lantern? Sometimes.”
   She grinned at him. “I meant Fallen Trees.”
   “Ohhhh,” he laughed again. If there was one thing she was learning about Saul, it was that he was the quickest person to laugh or smile she’d ever known in her entire life. “Well, I’m there when Rory wants me there. I’m a contractor by trade, so I’ve been helping him out with the B&B.”
   “Ah,” she said. “So, just how rugged is this place? I know you said there’s no phone service…”
   “It’s not that bad, really,” Rory said. “Just needs some fairly minor repairs throughout the house. New paint in every room. It’s mostly the road up that needs the most work. No one has used it in something like thirty years so it’s completely overgrown. A bunch of trees have fallen across it that need to be removed. Stuff like that.”
   “That’s why it’s hard to get to, huh?”
   “That would be why, yep.”
   “Could be a benefit once we open the joint though,” Saul said. “If you want privacy, it’s definitely the place to be.”
   “Yeah,” Rory agreed. “You won’t find anywhere more private than in there.”
   “Sounds like the perfect writer’s retreat,” Karen said, voicing her earlier thoughts.
   She saw Rory look in the rearview mirror and exchange a glance with Saul. Then he said, “Well, when we’re all settled and open up, you’re more than welcome to come stay with us.”
   “Be quite a trek from New York, though,” Saul said.
   “Boston,” Rory told him. “She’s from Boston.”
   “Right. Boston. Hey, I was close. I got the coast right.”
   Rory looked at Karen briefly. “Everyone out here thinks the whole East Coast is New York. You’ll get used to it.” She laughed and reached for a water bottle for a sip. Saul had made sure each of them had received one before vacating his house.
   “That’s okay,” she said, recapping the bottle. “When people back East think of the West Coast, it’s pretty much just California they’re thinking of. California and earthquakes.”
   As they drove, the more woodsy their surroundings became. The houses and businesses became fewer until there were none visible from the road.
   Saul leaned forward, poking his head out from between the front seats. “Spooky, huh?” Karen nodded, watching the trees as they sped by. They seemed to grow taller and thicker the further they went, just as the day around them grew more gloomy, a thick white fog settling across the land.
   “The incline isn’t enough to notice,” Rory said, “But we’re climbing in elevation.”
   “Is it always like this?” she asked.
   “Only about nine months out of the year,” Rory replied in such a tone that Karen was unsure if he was joking or not.
   “Wow,” she said.
   “Just be thankful it’s not raining,” Saul said. “Yet.”
   Karen knew the Northwest was known for its drenching winters, but she didn’t mind the rain as much as most people did. Most days she found it soothing and enjoyed writing while listening to the rain and wind pelting her windows and roof. She also liked going to sleep to the sound of rain, but she was uncertain of how she’d react to months upon months with no sunshine in sight. She supposed even the biggest rain lover might find it tedious and depressing after a while.
   “They say the Northwest has the highest suicide rate in the country,” Saul said.
   Rory groaned. “Don’t go telling her shit like that, Saul.” To Karen he said, “In case you haven’t noticed, Saul is a bit of a gloomy Gus.”
   “Hey, it’s a fact,” Saul said. “The world can be an ugly place, especially when people are involved.”
   Karen kept her mouth shut, uncertain of how to take that statement. Rory shook his head in dismay. It was clear he had heard it all before and was getting bored with it.
   They traveled in silence for several miles, the woods around them growing in density, the fog not dissipating in the slightest. After a long while, Saul spoke from the backseat again, his voice low. “You should tell her about the house, Rory.”
   Rory frowned, shifted in his seat, and said nothing.
   Karen silently counted to ten before asking, “What about the house?”
   Sighing, Rory leaned forward, clicked on the radio. He searched the airwaves for nearly a minute trying to find something that wasn’t static. Frustrated, he snapped if off again. “The house has a bit of an ugly history,” he said abruptly, waving his right hand dismissively. “Ancient history. Nothing to worry about.”
   “Unless you ask some of the locals,” Saul put in.
   Glancing over his shoulder, Rory’s eyes shot daggers into the backseat at his friend. He faced front again, his expression grim. “Yeah, some of the locals can be a little whacko sometimes.”
   “Whacko how?” Karen asked.
   “They believe in curses,” Saul said. “For starters. They never wanted anyone to buy that old house and they’ve been giving Rory a lot of shit for it. I’m surprised they haven’t tried to burn the place down, actually.”
   “They probably would,” Rory stated. “If they weren’t afraid the whole forest would go up with it.”
   “Most of them won’t even go up there.”
   “Well,” Karen said. “You said it was a long hike.”
   “These aren’t the kind of people who are afraid of long walks in the woods,” Rory said. “They just hate the house.”
   “Even though none of them are old enough to have even been alive when…when what happened, happened.” Saul was starting to sound a little spooked himself. “They just know the stories their grandparents told them.”
   Karen waited patiently to hear the stories, but both men had fallen silent. She chewed her lip for a while before blurting, “Well, what happened?”
   Rory cleared his throat and said, “Good job bringing this up, Saul. Appreciate it.”
   “Hey, I was just making conversation,” Saul replied.
   Karen said, “You guys are gonna make me run around this tiny town asking the locals about it? What, is it supposed to be haunted or something?”
   “Or something,” Rory said. “It’s the guy that built it back in 1866. He was…a little…how should I put this delicately?”
   “He was a sick bastard,” Saul jumped to the rescue. “Really fucked in the head.”
   “Well,
that
was delicate,” Rory groaned.
   Karen laughed. “Sick, huh? Like, how? Sacrificing virgins? Goats? Praying to the devil? Thinking he
was
the devil?”
   Rory glanced at her sideways.
   She shrugged. “Hey, I write fiction and I’ve seen a
lot
of horror movies.”
   “Well…” he replied, before trailing off.
   “Kind of,” Saul said. “I mean, something like that.”
   “A devil worshipper?” She couldn’t keep the amusement out of her voice. “That’s all you got for me?”
   Neither of them responded as the Jeep approached a crossroads and Rory made a left turn.
   “It’s all nonsense,” he said at last. “Just a bunch of folks telling ghost stories to keep their kids from wandering into the woods to smoke weed or get laid or whatever it is that kids do these days.”
   “Drink beer,” Saul added helpfully.
   “Yeah, drink beer,” Rory repeated, turning his head towards Karen and nodding in agreement.
   She thought about this for a moment before responding. “But, Saul said they’re giving you a hard time for buying the place. That sounds like more than people just wanting to put a scare into their kids.”
   “I don’t know,” Rory said, sounding frustrated. “Maybe they think opening the B&B will give the kids a destination.”
   She nodded silently, but didn’t believe him. She knew there was more to the story than what Rory was telling but decided to let it go for now. She didn’t want to upset the guy and besides, she was only here to check out where her brother had been; nothing more. She had no real notion of actually estimating the value of the old house or anything like that. She couldn’t have cared less about Sean’s handwritten will, to the point where it never even occurred to her to ask to see it. All she wanted was to feel close to her brother one last night, put the nightmares to rest, if that was possible. See through his eyes if she could.
    It was strange, but sitting in this car with these two men, these virtual strangers, riding down an old road cut through a thick and rolling forest, it was the nearest she’d been to her brother in almost five years. And, she realized with some dismay, that it was the first time she really felt his absence, a vacant spot located somewhere in her chest, in her heart and in her mind.
   For the first time she actually missed the little shit. Missed him with a deep pounding ache that caused tears to spring unexpectedly to her eyes. She turned away from Rory, pretended to be fascinated by the passing trees.
   
Sean
, her mind screamed.
Where the fuck are you?