The Lost Door (23 page)

The wall clock ticked.

“Lil? Lilly?” David stroked her face, grabbed her shoulders, gave her a shake. “Come on, Lilly. Wake up. Wake up now!”

Doctor Wilson ran in followed by the nurse. “What happened?” he asked as he pulled a stethoscope from his pocket. He checked Lilly’s heart rate, then her respiration. “Mrs. Rottingham?” he asked, pulling the stethoscope from his ears. He looked at David. “What happened?” he asked again.

“I don’t know. She opened her eyes, started talking… I think she may have had a seizure.” He began to cry, couldn’t help it. He wiped at the tears feeling shamed.

“Well,” Doctor Wilson said with a sigh, “her heart rate is escalated but it’s returning to normal. How long did the seizure last?”

“A couple of seconds. It was—”

“David?” said a hoarse yet beautiful voice. Lilly was looking at them with tired eyes. “What happened? Where am I?”

“Lilly?” he whispered. “Oh my God, Lilly!” he cried and embraced her in a hug. He sobbed into her neck, months of pent up emotions flooding out.

He didn’t know how long he was there, hugging and rocking his beautiful wife. His heart felt ready to burst. “I knew you’d come back to me,” he whispered. “I never stopped doubting.”

“Mr. Rottingham?” he heard the doctor say. He held onto Lilly a few seconds more, pulled away slowly, and gazed into her eyes.

“What’s going on?” she asked him. He responded by giving her a gentle kiss on the cheek.

“I’ll let your husband fill you in on the details,” the doctor said. He introduced himself to her and only said she’d been in an accident. He checked her pulse, flashed a light in her eyes, did a few other tests before giving her a reassuring smile. Ten minutes later David and Lilly were alone, the door shut.

They hugged again, David still emotional but controlling his tears. When he finally felt like he could talk without breaking down, he told her about the accident and how long she’d been out. She sat sullen for a long time, not saying a word, digesting the news.

“What about the baby?” She looked up into David’s eyes and he could see she knew the answer. Her face contorted, tears began to flow, and it was his turn to comfort her. He couldn’t bring himself to tell her that she was now incapable of bearing children. That would have to wait.

There was one last thing he needed to tell her. It might be too much for one person to bear but she needed to know. He felt her tense as he delivered the news about her parents.

“Do they know who?” she asked.

“No. They’re still investigating.”

“Oh.”

And that was all. It wasn’t the reaction he expected, and wondered if she might have a breakdown.

With each passing day Lilly got stronger. The hospital ran their tests, the results positive. Lilly was out of bed and walking by the end of the week—carefully steered by David to avoid Frank’s room—and by the end of the second week she’d been cleared to return home. By then David had told her the equally bad news, that she could no longer become pregnant. To David’s surprise she didn’t cry. She barely bat an eye.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Yes. Somehow… I just had a feeling, you know?”

He nodded.

When David arrived the morning to take her home she was packed and ready to go. She wasn’t in bed but sitting in the chair looking out the window. It was sunny, the brightness accentuated by the reflective snow. She wanted to walk out on her own but they wouldn’t allow it. The paperwork was signed, smiles and thanks went around between the Rottingham’s, the doctors and nurses, as Lilly sat begrudgingly in the wheel chair. David grasped the handles and began to push her down the hallway, ever so happy to leave. The glass doors to the outside world never looked so beautiful. He was ecstatic and overjoyed, so focused on getting her out of the hospital that he didn’t hear the quiet sobbing coming from Frank’s room.

It wasn’t until he saw the obituary in the paper two days later that he learned Abigail’s husband had passed.

* * *

Life in River Bend returned to normal for the Rottingham’s and Amberson’s in 1958. The previous year had been difficult, more than difficult, but as David and Lilly were continuing their lives, the Amberson’s, too, were making adjustments.

School had been rough for a while; rumors of their father spread like wildfire. The words affected Willem the hardest. He didn’t have the thick skin Elliott had, and the kids Sam’s age had yet to develop the cruelty of adolescence.

Willem tried to ignore the rumors and hurtful things people said to him like his older brother, but in the end he could only take so much. He absorbed the words, letting the anger at his father and those spreading the rumors fester. With no one to blame he began to resent his mother. One afternoon a fellow classmate said the wrong thing.

It was the last week of school when Bobby Stapleton came up to him with a large grin on his face, not even attempting to hide the fact of his intention. It was recess and Willem and William were sitting in the dirt baseball diamond playing marbles. After their talk at the bridge Willem had warmed to William, and while not best friends they had a mutual respect and appreciation for each other.

“How’s your mom’s new job going?” Bobby asked.

“Fine,” Willem said with hesitation. He and William exchanged a knowing looked, that Bobby was up to something.

Bobby was a little taller than both Willem and William, short blond hair, and a mouth full of crooked teeth. He covered a snicker with his hand. “You’re going to have a new dad soon, eh? Which guy is she going with?”

Willem didn’t know what Bobby was talking about so stayed quiet. That just added fuel to Bobby’s bullying.

Bobby gasped. “Oh! You didn’t know? How do you not know? It’s the talk of the town!”

“What are you getting at?”

“Don’t listen to him,” William interjected. “He’s just talking out of his ass.”

Bobby looked devilish. “Oh no. All the kids know.”

Ignore him,
Willem told himself.
Whatever he says ignore him, just like Elliott does.

He looked down at their game and rolled a marble. He’d been aiming for a light blue one but missed. “Go away, Bobby.”

“But don’t you want to know what you’re mom’s been up to?”

“He said ‘go away’. Don’t you listen?” William stared at Bobby, his eyes commanding. That got Willem curious.

“What’s he talking about?” he asked his friend.

“Nothing. He doesn’t know what he’s saying.”

“Do too,” Bobby said. “Not sure why you’re protecting him from his whore mother.”

“My
what?
” Willem was on his feet, staring Bobby down. He felt his face grow warm, nails dug in his palms. “What did you call my mom?”

“A. Whore.”

Willem was on Bobby before either boy knew it. He fell back into the dirt, a puff of dust catapulting into the air. Willem’s fist came down hard smashing into Bobby’s temple. The boy cried out in pain. Willem blocked Bobby’s feeble attempts to hit back, batting away his fists easily. Kids saw the fight and ran over, circling them, provoking them.

“My mom is not a whore!” Willem bellowed, his fists coming down faster and more furiously. There was a solid crunch as Bobby’s nose collapsed under Willem’s balled fist. Blood splattered his blond hair.

“Ow! Knock it off! Stop it!” Bobby cried, kicking out, flailing about, trying to escape the furious onslaught.

“Take it back, Bobby!”

“I take it back! I take it back!”

But Willem couldn’t stop. The words of dozens of kids over the past months burst free, the pent up anger escaping through one punch to the next.

“What’s going on?” The voice of one of the teachers seeped into Willem’s fog. Who was it? From the corner of his eye he saw Mrs. O’Flyng. “Stop it! The two of you stop it right now!”

She pushed through the crowd to the two boys and struggled to pull Willem off, finally succeeding with the help of William. Willem stopped struggling, relaxing his body, going limp. “What is wrong with the two of you?” she scolded.

“He started it!” Willem hollered, pointing at Bobby.

“I don’t care if the Devil himself started it.”

“But he called my mom a whore!”

A few kids gasped at the obscene word. Never had they heard one of their own use an obscenity in front of an adult.

“Sticks and stones, Willem. Sticks and stones.”

Willem felt her let go of him and he immediately wanted to attack Bobby again, felt William squeeze his shoulder.
Not now,
it said. Willem held his ground, teeth clenched, eyes stabbing.

“Oh dear, Bobby. I think your nose may be broken.” Bobby had his mouth and nose covered with a hand, blood oozing from between the fingers. His face was covered in dirt and blood. Mrs. O’Flyng crouched and grasped Bobby’s wrists gently. “Let me see,” she said.

Bobby glared at Willem through tears and slowly moved his hands away. Mrs. O’Flyng let out an audible gasp. Willem smiled, couldn’t help but feel proud for knocking out two teeth from Bobby’s shit eating grin. Served him right.

“Let’s go. The both of you.”

“Why me?” asked Willem. Bobby got what he deserved for calling his mother a whore. Why should he be punished?

“Look at poor Bobby here and tell me you don’t know.”

Willem wasn’t sure what would happen next as Mrs. O’Flyng escorted them into the school, but he felt like an inmate making his final walk to be executed.

* * *

Willem sat at the kitchen table, Elliott across from him, while his mother paced the room furious. He hadn’t seen his mother this angry since, well, ever.

“I am so disappointed in you, Willem,” his mother said. “What came over you?”

“I lost my temper.”

“Temper? You broke that boy’s nose!”

Willem couldn’t bring himself to look at his mother so stared at the fruit bowl in the center of the table.

“And where were you?” Willem rolled his eyes up and saw his mother focused on Elliott.

“Me? I was in class.”

“I told you to watch out for your brothers.”

“I can’t watch them all hours of the day, mom. Besides, after today I don’t think Willem needs protecting.”

A pang of pride coursed through Willem at his eldest brother’s praise. In many ways it felt as if Elliott was saying he wasn’t a little boy anymore and was capable of taking care of himself.

“Doesn’t need protecting? If you had done as I’d asked then he wouldn’t have gotten into this mess!”

“Don’t put this on me,” Elliott shot back. “If that kid had kept his mouth shut and hadn’t provoked him then this wouldn’t have happened.”

She turned back to Willem. “I don’t care what this boy said. The fact remains—”

“He called you a whore,” Willem interrupted. His mother recoiled as if slapped.

“He what?” she asked, the anger seeping away.

“He called you a whore.”

She pulled a chair out from the table and sat between her boys. “Oh,” was all she managed, letting the hurtful word sink in. “Did he say why I was a… a—”

“He said I was going to have a new dad soon and wanted to know which guy it would be.”

“Oh,” she said again, more quietly. She looked at Elliott. “Did you know about this?”

“Its talk, mom. You always told us to ignore that stuff.”

“And this is the talk around at school?”

Elliott shrugged.

“I see,” she said. She slapped the table with her hands, back and forth,
tap-tap-taptaptaptaptap.
“I have to get back to work, but we’ll talk about this tonight, okay? And you,” she pointed at Willem, “are going to be punished. What you did was completely unacceptable regardless of what that boy said. You understand?”

“Yes, mom.”

“Good.” She stood, swept her purse up on the way to the door. “No outside play,” and then she was gone.

Willem looked at Elliott who stared at him with sad eyes. The muffled car engine started then disappeared as their mother drove away. From upstairs a door opened followed by creaking steps. Sammy peaked around the doorway. “Is she gone?” he asked.

Elliott waved him over. Sam ran to him and jumped onto his lap. Elliott had become the father figure missing in his life, one he didn’t seem to mind playing if it made Sam happy.

“Why was mommy mad?” he asked, his big doe eyes looked between his brothers. “Was it something I did?”

“No,” Elliott said. “Willem got into a fight is all.”

To Willem he said, “Did you win?”

Willem smiled. “I think so.”

“Good.”

Wind blew through the screen door.

“Do you think there’s any truth to it?” Willem asked.

“Not in the way we’re hearing it, no.”

“But do you think—?”

“No, Willem. I don’t.” Elliott was forceful in his words as he bounced Sam who was giggling. “They’re rumors, not gossip. Big difference.”