Gateway to Fourline (The Fourline Trilogy Book 1) (13 page)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Eric, who lived on a nearby farm and attended school with Nat, maneuvered his beige Toyota truck down the slick road leading to Nat’s house. The bare cottonwood trees surrounding the small house were covered in snow. A brown-and-white collie barked as the truck approached.

Nat grabbed her bag from the narrow space behind the bucket seats. “Thanks for the ride, Eric.”

“No problem. Tell your folks hi. Let your dad know I’ll be going out of my mind at home and to call if he needs any help.” His thick arm tugged the strap of her bag free. She nodded. He was trying to be nice. Nat knew he had more than enough work at his family’s place to keep him insanely busy through their break.

“Mom says he’s doing better. Almost back to normal.”

“Uh-huh. Tell him anyway.”

Nat jumped out of the truck and unhooked the latch on the white gate.

“Do you need a ride back up after break?” Eric called out as Nat stepped through the gate and began ruffling the fuzzy head of her bouncing dog.

“No, I’m taking the bus the day after Christmas. I’ve got a weird interim-term class that starts early in January.”

“You getting more credit for that?” He put the truck in gear.

“Kind of.” Nat smiled.

“That’s what I thought. Take an hour off, Nat Barns.” He waved and pulled around the drive that circled the house and barn. Nat watched as the tail end of the truck disappeared up the hill. She still wondered if the college and her parents would buy Barba’s and Cairn’s crazy scheme for her January-term class. The Gates assured her they would take care of getting the fake course authorized by whoever authorized January-term classes. Her parents were her problem.

She gently shoved her dog away and rubbed the nose of a bay horse that appeared expectantly, pushing against the fence opposite the house. “Sorry, no treats.” She held up her empty hands. The horse snorted. Nat opened the back door of her house and walked into the mudroom. A cluster of heavy work coats and caps hung on pegs above a neat line of boots. She sat on a red-vinyl padded bench and pulled off her shoes. Opening a small cabinet next to the bench, Nat retrieved a pair of dusty house shoes from the far corner. She remembered the cabinet in Benedict’s house and shuddered. How could she trust someone who locked children away?

“Nat?” Her father’s voice came from around the corner.

“Hi, Dad.” His leg was propped up on a worn green cushion. Purplish toes stuck out from the graying cast. He held a fist-sized chunk of wood in one hand and a small carving knife in the other. She kissed him on his bearded cheek, and he gave her an awkward hug. The kitchen-table chair scraped the linoleum as she pulled it out and sat down.

“How’s the leg?” She pushed little wood shavings into a pile.

“Fine. I need to find the right kind of prop for my leg to use in the shop. Your mom brought me some pieces to work with in here until I get that figured out.” He held up the chunk of wood, and Nat could see the shape of a broad wing. Two boxes of carving tools cluttered the counter behind the kitchen table.
He must not be able to get out to the shop much at all if Mom is letting him take over part of her kitchen,
Nat thought.

“I’ll figure out something for you.”

“I thought you might say that.” He smiled. The lines around his eyes were deeper than she remembered.

“I need a cup of something hot. How about you?” He nodded, and Nat brushed his flannel-covered arm as she passed by him to the sink, filled a kettle, and placed it on the stove. She opened the pantry door and rummaged around for the hot cocoa. The shelves seemed a little emptier than usual.

“Where’s Mom?” She pulled two chipped coffee cups from the cabinet. She wanted to tell them at the same time about returning to school right after Christmas.

“She was going to take Marie Claire Christmas shopping after work. Cal is helping Marjorie Evans get the greenery up at church. She said she’d be late.” Her father pulled the knife in a swift movement across the wood.

“Well, that’s not new.” Steam rose from the mugs. Nat crumpled the cocoa wrappers and tossed them into the garbage. “Are you sure Cal’s at church?”

He took a sip, and a bit of foam clung to his brown mustache. “Your mom called Marjorie to check.” He chuckled.

“Do you know if Mom had plans for dinner? I could start something.” She scanned the kitchen and spotted an empty stew pot on the stove.

He pulled his leg gently from the chair. “I was supposed to start the stew an hour ago so it can ‘simmer properly,’ whatever that means.” He hopped over to the refrigerator and grabbed a package wrapped in white butcher paper. Nat took the package and let him balance on her shoulder.

“Sit down, I’ll do it.”

“I’m not an invalid, Nat.” The look in her father’s eyes told her not to push the offer.

“I know.” She swallowed the sudden urge to tell him everything that had happened to her. She looked down at the floor and pushed a clump of dog hair with her slipper. “Let me start this. Then we can go to the barn and look at your shop. All you need to do is tell me what you want done and I’ll do it.” She ripped the paper and turned when her father didn’t answer. She knew immediately she’d said something wrong.

“I’m tired of people doing everything for me, Nat. This thing should’ve been off by now.” He slapped the cast, making a dull thud as his fingers hit the hard surface. He slumped in his chair, looking up at the ceiling.

Nat cut some butter into the pot. “Could be worse, Dad.” She stirred in a little flour. White streaks covered her purple flannel shirt as she added another tablespoon of flour. “You could’ve broken both legs. Then I’d have to build you a body sling out of that nasty leftover stretchy fabric Mom used for Cal’s coed dress last year.” Nat poured in broth and watched as the roux bubbled. “To quote someone who happens to be my parent, ‘Think of how lucky you are.’” She added the meat, wiped a splatter of roux from her hand, and glanced at him. “I’m taking a theater class in January.” She turned. Her father’s nose crinkled like he smelled something rank.

“More theater?”

“Yeah, it’s just for J-term. But get this.” She slid into the seat next to him, keeping her voice upbeat and excited. “The shop I started working for this fall wants me to help with a show they’re costuming up in Canada. I’ll fill my last fine-arts credit and get paid. And . . . drumroll, please.” Her dad tapped his hands on the table. “I got another scholarship, and not just any scholarship. It covers full tuition for the next two semesters! No loans for next year.” Nat smiled so wide it made her cheeks hurt.

“Wow.” Her dad’s expression morphed from surprise to confusion. “How did . . . ? That’s great, Nat. I wasn’t sure how we were going to . . . That’s great.”

“I’ll have money from work now that won’t have to go to tuition payments.” She let the information hang in the silence. She would send it home, but she wasn’t going to say that right now. Nat hopped up, put the lid on the pot, and grabbed the single crutch leaning against the corner. “Come on. Let’s go to the barn.”

When they returned from the barn and shop, her dad was in a much better mood. They’d modified an old sawhorse by lowering the legs, adding little wheels, and strapping a ripped horse blanket around the body. He could scoot it easily from place to place and rest his leg while he worked. Nat was not so upbeat. Materials, buckets, feed, and empty pellet bags were strewn around the barn and shop. She’d nearly twisted her ankle on a degreasing gun by the tractor. She knew he’d trip on something before he made it to any of his machines if the shop stayed the same disaster.
Cal should have the place in order,
she thought. MC was taking care of the sheep, and she was only nine. Her mom was working and trying to keep the place running. What was Cal doing?

Piano scales greeted them as they entered the house. MC hunched over the old Acrosonic piano, playing scales. Nat’s mom was putting away a few groceries.

“Nat!” The piano bench fell backward as MC leapt up and hugged her. Her mom gave her a quick hug as well.

“Were the roads okay coming down?” Her mom’s thick hair was clipped back with a long silver hair clip. A few strands hung in her face, which reminded Nat of Barba’s wispy red tendrils. She handed Nat a half dozen potatoes and a peeler and continued to whiz around the kitchen without pausing.

“Pretty good,” Nat replied. “Dad, that reminds me.” She turned to her father, who had resumed his position at the kitchen table, wood in hand. “Eric wanted to come over if it was okay with you. He can’t get his dad’s lathe working and thought you might let him borrow yours in exchange for whatever you might need him to do around here.” She’d need to remember to tell Eric his dad’s lathe wasn’t working. She wasn’t even sure if his dad had a lathe. She watched her father, looking for the suspicion in his face. He bought the lie.

“I’ll give him a call after Christmas. He can help me move that panel I’m working on if I get done with it.” He continued working on the wooden wing. Nat’s mom looked over her shoulder at her husband.

“You think you can finish the panel now?” Deep lines formed on her forehead above her dark eyebrows.

A car door slammed. The sound of boots hitting the wall came from the mudroom.

“What’s for dinner, Mom? Hi, Nat.” Cal, blonde hair whipping around as she barely acknowledged Nat, brushed past her and lifted the lid on the pot. “Yuck. I’ll pass.”

“No, you won’t. Set the table.” Her mom pointed to the utensil drawer.

“My fingers are all cut up from hanging the pine boughs, and now you want me to set the table?” Nat had forgotten how ugly her sister’s face became when she whined.

“I’ll do it.” MC’s ponytail flipped from side to side as she scurried to the cutlery drawer. Nat waited for her parents to say something, but neither of them did. Cal flopped into a chair and stretched out her long legs. Nat walked to the mudroom and grabbed a pair of worn leather work gloves. She tossed them into her sister’s lap.

“Mom, dinner in about an hour?” Nat asked, and her mom nodded. “Since you’re not doing anything, put those on and come with me. They’ll protect all that tender flesh.”

Cal snatched the gloves and followed her sister into the mudroom and out the back door. “I’m home five minutes, and you’re already telling me what to do.” She pulled up the zipper on a ripped work coat.

“Somebody needs to. Been in the barn recently?” Nat said. Cal shrugged. “Didn’t think so.” Nat pushed open the dented main door to the barn. She gestured to the shop strewn with equipment at the back of the barn. “How do you expect Dad to get better and get any work done when he can’t even walk a straight line to his shop? Mom has enough on her plate, and MC is picking up more than her share.”

“What do you know, Nat?” Cal kicked a bright-orange bucket, which ricocheted off a spool of sheep wire. “You haven’t been here, you have no idea what’s going on. You’re off at your expensive college, stressing Mom and Dad out about how they are going to pay for it when they don’t have enough to pay for my dance lessons.”

“They don’t have to worry about that anymore, Cal.”

Cal got quiet. “Did you drop out?” Her voice sounded expectant, almost hopeful.

“Of course not, you idiot. I just figured out a way to cover my tuition.” Before Cal could ask more questions, she quickly continued, “Now start with the mess by the tractor. Dad’s never going to be able to pay for your stupid dance lessons if he can’t get down here.”

Cal sulked throughout dinner but brightened when Nat told her parents she was leaving right after Christmas.

“Where in Canada is all of this again?” her mom asked while pushing a clump of potato around her plate.

“North of Quebec somewhere, which is another reason I have to go back early. It will take a few days to get there. They have to haul a bunch of stuff up.” She turned the subject to MC’s part in the Christmas pageant and hoped they wouldn’t ask any more questions.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Nat tucked the fleece blanket around her legs and listened to the sounds of the sleeping house. Little squeaks emanated from the mudroom where her dog slept.
He’s probably dreaming of chasing sheep,
she thought and wondered where her dreams would take her tonight. The furnace kicked on, spewing hot air out of the old green grate with a low-pitched whine. She heard her little sister’s steps padding across the wood floor of the living room.

“It’s ten o’clock, MC.” She placed her book on the floor next to the couch.

“I can’t sleep.” A line formed across MC’s forehead.

“Why not?” She lifted the blanket, and her sister snuggled under the covers. Nat had to shift her hips to make room. At nine, MC was almost up to Nat’s chin.

“I’m worried.” She nestled next to her.

“About what?” Her sister’s silence spoke volumes. “Hey,” Nat said as she brushed her hand over MC’s hair. MC lifted her chin. “Too many worriers just make more worries. Dad’s going to be okay.”

MC pushed her tousled hair away from her splotchy cheeks. “I’m not just worried about Dad, I’m worried about you, too. You don’t come home like you used to or call like you used to or write back to me. I’ve only talked to you three times since you left for school and that was about Mom and Dad and the bank, and now you’re leaving right after Christmas.”

The words tumbled out and crashed into Nat like a waterfall. She wrapped her arms tightly around MC and tucked her head under her chin so she wouldn’t see the tears forming in her eyes. “I’m sorry, MC.” Nat’s heart ached. “You know I love you, and I can’t imagine my life without you in it.” She suddenly thought of Estos and his sister. She couldn’t imagine what it would feel like to lose her sister. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” She kissed MC’s forehead.

“Soon, make it up to me soon,” MC demanded in a sleepy voice.

“As soon as I can.” Nat laid her chin on MC’s head and tucked the blanket around her shoulders. The clock ticked loudly on the mantel. MC’s gentle snores joined the ticking sound. She looked down at her sister. If Nat had any idea what was waiting for her after she fell asleep, her worrying would never end.

A small funnel of air began spinning from the green grate. Nat leaned closer. The funnel grew faster and wider. She reached for the edge of the couch and clutched MC as the funnel ripped away the tile floor and pulled her to its center. MC spun into the darkness. A gag of dust filled Nat’s mouth when she tried to scream her sister’s name. The funnel pulled Nat higher and higher into the air until she hung suspended in the night, looking down at the roof of her house. She cartwheeled through the spinning air, grasped the ledge to her dream room, and hurtled over. The other side was dark and quiet. Nat visualized the protective bars of light.

“You’re getting better at finding your access points.” Annin’s face glowed behind the light of the white bars shooting up along the ledge. Two faint figures appeared behind her.

“Come in.” Nat motioned to Annin. The lights slowly disappeared, and Annin hopped over with her usual agility. “Would have been nice if you’d found it a few hours ago, though,” she said in a deadpan voice. “I don’t like waiting, especially when I have to wait with him.” She jerked her thumb toward the ledge. Andris hovered in the funnel on the other side with Estos next to him.

“Wait a minute, nobody said anything about lessons with Andris.” Nat took a step back from the barrier and the light bars shot up from the ledge.

“You like him about as much as I do.” Annin had an amused smile on her face. “Doesn’t matter, though, you have to let him in. Take it up with Estos. But can we get this over with so I can get some sleep?” She looked longingly at the other side of the ledge.

He wasn’t a Sister. Nat wondered what Andris was going to teach her. How to make other people feel like garbage?

“Fine.” Nat let out a long breath. “You can come in.” The bars receded. Andris’ feet landed on the ground. Estos followed and gave her an apologetic look. Annin sat down near the ledge, still wearing an amused smile.

“What’s this about?” Nat asked Estos.

“Your training, of course,” Andris answered. His eyes reminded her of the green scum that grew around the edges of the water troughs in the heat of August.

“Andris and his brothers have trained me in combat since I was ten.” Estos dipped his head. “I don’t have a Warrior Sister to teach you how to get away from a fight, so Andris agreed to train you. This is all precautionary, Natalie, as I’m certain you won’t need—”

“Remember our agreement,” Andris said with a slight warning edge to his voice. Estos frowned but closed his mouth.

What agreement?
Nat wondered, growing uneasy as Andris approached her. “You and I are fighting?” Her voice trembled slightly when she asked him.

He laughed. “No, you and Estos will spar.” He looked almost pleased as her jaw dropped. “I need to observe you first to see just how bad you are. Estos volunteered to attack you.” His lips twisted into a smile. “Let’s get started.”

Estos moved slightly to the left. Nat opened her mouth but thought better of it. Estos stepped to the side and turned his head, looking into the void past Nat’s light barrier. Nat followed his gaze and felt a brush of air against the side of her head.

“Make contact!” Andris cried as Estos’ foot landed on the ground. His kick had missed her head by an inch. “I agreed to do this, now you uphold your part,” Andris barked at him. Nat looked around, confused.

“Try to block me, Natalie,” Estos whispered.

“I heard that!” Andris yelled. “Start again!”

Annin’s tittering laughter filled the air. Estos took a deep breath and circled Nat with a grim look on his face. She followed his lead and tried to watch his hands and feet, but his kick to her midsection was too swift. Nat fell to her knees and clutched her stomach. Estos blurred in and out in front of her. He had a horrified look on his face.

“If your plan is to wallow on the ground the first time you get knocked down in Fourline, you might as well give up now. You’re supposed to be a Warrior Sister. Get up.” Andris nudged her leg with his worn leather boot.

She imagined the pain floating from the side of her stomach. The throbbing disappeared. She looked up at Andris. His face bore an expression that was both smug and bored.

“Couldn’t be in a worse position than the one you’re in now,” Andris said, smiling in response to her look of hatred. He held up a finger. “I take that back. A Nala clinging to your back would be worse.”

Estos extended his hand. She ignored it and pushed herself off the ground.

“Well, well, at least you can pull yourself up.” Andris clapped one hand lightly against the other. Nat brushed nonexistent dust off her pants, trying to rein in her anger. “Let’s try this again.”

“Not with Estos—with you.” She pointed to Andris.

His eyes narrowed. “Very well, he’ll be too soft on you, anyway. Take him back, Annin.”

“No,” Estos protested.

“She’ll be fine, it’s her dream space,” Andris said in a slightly patronizing voice.

Nat glanced toward the ledge. Annin and Estos had vanished.

“Estos and Barba seem to think my training you will result in something other than a colossal waste of my time.” She stiffened as he circled her. Her anger grew to a point that all she wanted to do was humiliate him and prove him wrong. He droned on in a condescending tone. “How am I supposed to train a fraud, an opportunist, to be a Warrior Sister?” He shook his head and laughed harshly. “I doubt you’ll even go.” He spat on her floor. “If you do, you’ll fail.”

This is my dream space, you jerk,
she thought. His eyes narrowed and his left hand jabbed toward her face. She ducked and punched him in the stomach. A track spread before her, and Nat burst onto the brick-colored field, running away from Andris before his next strike. Bright halogen field lights popped up like flowers in front of her, lighting the way. Her feet flew, taking her farther and farther from Andris. She stopped suddenly and whirled around. He stood in a small globe of light at the start of the track.

“I don’t get you!” she yelled. “It’s your home, it’s your ticket back if I go in and—”

“And do what? Pull off whatever scheme Benedict pulls out of his arse?” he shot back. “Don’t delude yourself. You managed to get in and out the last two times, but you were never in any real danger of being discovered. You’re going into the heart of Rustbrook this time.” He pointed a finger at her. “Mudug will smell you out for the fraud that you are. He’ll catch you and we’ll be worse off than before.”

A balled-up sock appeared in the air between them and hurtled down the field. Andris opened his mouth in surprise, and the sock slammed between his teeth. He yanked at the edge of the sock, but it held fast. Nat tried to keep the image of the sock and the running field in her head while she spoke. Now would not be the time to lose the images. Her words came out slow and halting.

“If Estos, Barba, Annin, or any of the others thought I couldn’t do this, they wouldn’t send me in. You’re the only one. Why is that?” Her voice grew louder. She was beginning to enjoy herself as she watched him struggle. “I may not know how to fight, but I can run. If you’ll shut up long enough to teach me how to get away, I’ll be fine.” Even from a distance, Nat could see Andris’ face was crimson. He let out a guttural growl.

“No? Okay, how about this. Race me,” she challenged. “If you catch me, I’ll lie and tell Estos that you’ve been training me. I’ll even give you a chair to sit in while you waste your time in my space up here.” She gestured to her head. “But if I win, no more insults. Just teach me what I need to know to get in and get away. Agreed?”

She knew he was too mad to even consider agreeing. He was going to come after her the second she removed the gag. She carefully let the image of the sock fade from her mind. Andris’ mouth snapped shut as the sock disappeared. He hurtled down the track toward her. When he hit the halfway point, she turned and took off. His cursing echoed behind her. Nat sprinted for a few minutes, then slowed her pace. He sounded like an elephant on a rampage, his feet landing heavily with each step.

“You can’t imagine your way out of this!” he yelled while running.

You don’t think so?
What was it Barba had said, intelligence over brute force? Nat imagined the breath and muscle a real race required. She focused and felt the sweat begin to trickle down her brow. The track veered to the left. Andris’ slapping feet sounded close. In a moment, he’d try to lunge and grab her. She glimpsed back. He was within a few yards, but his face was bright red. She smiled and quickened her pace. They rounded the turn and hit the second straight leg. It wouldn’t do to just beat him on a track field. She had to disappear to show him.

The track melted away, and the meadow near the crooked message tree appeared. Nat took a second to enjoy how simply the images were coming now that she’d had some practice, and then she bolted to the right toward the overgrown path in the forest. The branches whipped around in the wind. She jumped over rotted logs and ferns that brushed the thick tree trunks. Andris’ crashing noises became more and more distant as she wove her way to the hiding place she remembered. Skipping over a fallen log, she paused, stepped on its elevated trunk, and jumped onto the lower branch of the neighboring tree. She scaled the tree, grabbing three more thick branches until she was at least twelve feet off the ground. Two more branches up and a leap would get her to a cliff overhang. She tucked her body as close to the trunk as she could and slowed her breathing.

Andris wasn’t as far behind as she expected. He rounded the fallen log within a minute. She watched as he spun around and followed the line of the cliff wall. She settled back into the tree and waited. Five minutes passed, then ten. Nat climbed the next two limbs and jumped toward the cliff. She started a slow jog toward the rock chute leading to the red boulder.

When Andris finally showed up at the boulder, Nat had a collection of odd pinecones and leaves laid out on its crooked top. She looked up. The chase had sapped some of his anger, but not much.

She tossed one of the smooth cones into the air. “Do you know for certain I’ll fail if I go back in, Andris?” Her voice was quiet as she curled her fingers around the cone.

Andris lifted his chin and looked at her.

“You don’t, do you?” She stared at him from atop the boulder, chin resting on a raised knee.

Andris wiped his brow. “No,” he said finally.

The forest disappeared. A thick red mat and a single floating halogen bulb took its place.

“I’m going back.” She looked into the blackness surrounding them. “Estos has too much to lose, and now so do I.” She took a step closer and pressed her arms tight to her side to keep him from seeing her shaking. “I’ll take whatever training, whatever advice you want to give, but I just beat your sorry butt in a fair race, so don’t tell me I’m a fraud or that I’m going to fail. Especially when you don’t know.”

Andris nodded slowly. “All right,” he agreed. He took a step toward her, shaking his head, his expression more curious now than angry. “Do you know how to do anything besides run?” he asked, rubbing his short beard.