The Lost Door (9 page)

“It’s getting late. I should be going.”

“Where are you staying?” Beth asked.

“Motel near 51.”

“I wish you’d stay. We have plenty of room. The company is always nice.”

“I know, but I’d feel like I was imposing—”

“You’re family, Willem. Regardless of what happened, you’re always welcome here.”

“I know, but I’ve lived alone for so long…” How did he tell her he wasn’t comfortable staying under his dying brother’s roof? “I hope you understand.”

“Yes,” she sighed. “I do. Will you be back tomorrow?”

They walked to the door. “I promised Elliott I’d come by. When is good?”

“Anytime is fine.” She opened the door. “Well, until tomorrow then.” She leaned up and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

He felt her watching him as he walked to his car, but it wasn’t until he was getting in that he looked back and waved. As he drove away, the sun beginning to set, he wondered how much longer his brother had.

four

“Why did you run?”

Willem was seated in a chair next to Elliott’s bed. He looked more alert than yesterday.

“I wouldn’t say I ran—” Willem began.

“The moment you could you hightailed it out of River Bend.”

“Honestly? I don’t know. There was nothing there for me. At least that’s how it felt at the time. Sammy was dead, dad had disappeared, you’d gone off to college, and mom had her own life. What was I going to do? I didn’t want to be stuck there with her.”

“Fair enough, but then why sever all ties the way you did?”

“Why is any of this important now?”

“Indulge a dying man.”

Willem scowled at Elliott, sipped his coffee. “I’ve always felt responsible for Sam’s death. If I’d been more careful in protecting him he may not have died.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“So you and mom said, but hearing it and accepting it are two vastly different things. I was supposed to be looking out for him. If I’d done a better job of that he wouldn’t have fallen.”

“You don’t know that.”

“No, but I believe it.”

“Ironic, isn’t it, that you moved back after we left?”

“I had my fill of Milwaukee. It always felt like there was a sickness that seeped from the cracks. A simple life seemed more my speed, and it was more comfortable to move back to something familiar.”

“I’m sure knowing we’d moved away made it easier.”

“I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t a factor. By the way, it was nice of you to take her with you.”

Elliott shrugged then coughed. “Beth and mom got along great, so it made the decision easy. She got to stay close to her family and grandkids, and we didn’t have to worry about her being on her own.”

Willem sipped his cooling coffee, grimaced. Beth certainly knew how to make a strong cup of joe.

“We never really had a chance to finish our conversation from yesterday,” Elliott said.

“It’s fine.”

“No. It’s not.” Elliott cleared the phlegm from his throat, winced. “I don’t want you to go back home and never see your family again. My family is all you have, and I don’t want you withering away and dying alone.”

“I’m not alone.”

“I’ll haunt your sorry ass,” Elliott quipped.

Willem smiled. He knew it was sad, but he didn’t care. “What do you think happened to him?”

“Who? Dad?”

“Yeah.”

“There’s a lot of strange and beautiful things in the world, Willem,” he sighed. “I like to think he found something that made his life less hateful.”

His heart was heavy, and Willem didn’t know he was crying until he felt the tears on his cheeks. He thought he’d flicked them away before Elliott had seen, but because of the look his brother was giving him he knew otherwise. Willem shrugged, trying to be nonchalant. “I was just thinking to myself what it was about me he hated so much. Why I was the one he singled out. I suppose that’s pretty stupid, wondering about that now I mean.”

Elliott shook his head. “No, not at all.” There was a moment of hesitation, then he let out a long sigh. “The last few months before he disappeared even mom really had no idea what was going on with him.” He opened his mouth to say more, closed it.

“What?” Willem wanted to know.

Elliott looked at him with intense eyes. “Dad lost it. There is no other explanation. According to mom he was becoming increasingly paranoid and agitated, part of the reason—she thinks—he began to drink so heavily. You want to know why dad singled you out? It’s because he thought you weren’t you, that someone different had taken over.”

“Someone different? But that’s crazy.”

“That’s what mom tried to tell him, but he wouldn’t listen. She tried to calm him, to get him help, but he refused. That’s why dad took out his anger on you. He was sick, Willem. Nothing more.”

“She told you?”

“We talked about it, yes. She couldn’t understand why you left the way you did or why you estranged yourself.”

“Because she didn’t do anything,” Willem said coldly. “All that I went through and she looked the other way.”

“But that’s the thing—she didn’t. You know the old adage ‘love blinds you’? There’s truth to that. She didn’t know how bad it had gotten for you because she still loved her husband and was trying to understand what was going on. So she wasn’t ignoring what was happening, she didn’t see it.”

“She had to have known—”

“Why? Because you told her?”

Had he talked to her about it at the time? He thought so, but now as he sat here he was second guessing himself. Regardless, the anger and disappointment he’d latched onto toward his mother and brother had grabbed onto him and wouldn’t let go. “Never you or mom or Sammy. Me. It was only me.” The tears began to flow again, this time freely, and without humility. And suddenly, in the blink of an eye, he understood why he’d become the man he had. “You want to know why I never married, Elliott?” He stood, wanting to be out of here, away from Elliott and the memories. He needed fresh air, the coolness of the breeze. “I was afraid.”

Willem went to the door, opened it.

“Please don’t go.”

“I need to step outside for a few minutes. Clear my head.”

“Have you ever considered that the accident gave him the excuse he needed to leave? Maybe he didn’t like what he was becoming and left to protect us?”

Willem didn’t buy it—
couldn’t
buy it. What father would run off like that?

Elliott coughed and seemed to deflate into the bed. “Sometimes you just have to let it go, Willem. Sometimes there just isn’t always an answer to be had.”

Willem looked back. “You want to know what I think happened to dad? I think he ran away like you said, and I think it was because of me. He abandoned us all because of me.” He hesitated a moment, then said, “I’ll be back.”

Elliott gave a slight nod.
I understand
, it said.
Go.

And he did.

Elliott passed a few minutes later.

* * *

A few months ago David started to experience a longing for home. It was an intense feeling, one he couldn’t shake. The days leading up to David driving into town revealed little more than hints. Dreams or visions, truth or fiction, he felt a yearning as if some great wrong would soon be set right.

David stood outside 462 Baker Street, the home he’d owned with Lilly. Before coming here he’d gone back to the cabin where things had changed. For one the roadway had been cleared of the fallen tree. When he’d crested the hill he saw the house taped off with yellow police tape, a squad car parked in front. A crime scene? He saw no one outside and backed away. Last thing he wanted to do was be questioned by the cops. With the cabin temporarily off limits he’d decided to go to his old home and search for the necklace Lilly had shown him.

It used to be a pristine white one-story box with a picket fence, but now both were rundown, paint peeling. It hurt seeing the home he’d shared with his wife for forty years decaying like this. This place was a trove of memories, but now it looked like death had crept in.

He wondered who owned it now, if it was the same family whom he sold it to twenty years back, or if it was someone new? He knew looks could be deceiving, but it seemed the place had been all but abandoned. That’d be a shame. They’d always taken such good care of the property, making sure it had a fresh painting every few years.

The picket fence door sat askew, the latch uneven and unable to stay shut. It groaned when David pushed it open, the bottom wood scraping on the concrete. He noted the window shades were drawn as he walked along the concrete path between overgrown sections of grass. Stepping onto the porch he knocked.

And waited.

No one answered. He tried again, and after a full minute decided that no one was home. The door handle felt familiar, but the door wouldn’t open. It was too much to hope for, he supposed, to have it unlocked.

“Mr. Rottingham?”

He turned to the aged yet sweet voice. His old neighbor, Cynthia McCormick, stood on her porch, mail in hand.

“Is that you?” she asked.

“Indeed it is,” he said stepping off the porch with a smile. “I didn’t expect to see you.”

The shock on her face was obvious. “I can say the same. What are you doing here?” She met him at the fence.

“Good will tour.”

She laughed politely and slapped his arm with the mail. “Would you like to come in and have a cup of coffee?”

“Thank you, no. I have somewhere to be in a little while. Had time to kill so I figured I’d check out the old homestead.”

Her warmth darkened a bit. “Shame what’s happened to the place. You and Lilly always kept it up so nice. You were the envy of the neighborhood.”

He chuckled. “I doubt that. What happened though?”

“The Reeds—they’re the ones you sold it to. Frank ended up losing his job, and when that happened they fell into foreclosure. They ended up moving, and the place has been vacant ever since. Twelve, thirteen years. Something like that.”

“Thirteen, huh?”

“Baker’s dozen.”

“So the bank owns it now?”

“Yeah. We’ve been trying to get them to have someone come out and do some work on it, spruce it up a bit, but so far they’ve balked. I don’t know how they expect to sell it if it looks the way it does.”

He couldn’t hide the acid in his voice. “If they’re going to let it go they should just tear the place down and be done with it.”

Cynthia pursed her lips. “When did you get back?”

"Couple days ago. Staying at the inn.” He looked back to the house. “Out of curiosity, let’s say you saw a frail old man breaking into that abandoned house. You wouldn’t call the cops, would you?”

“If such a man did break in then I didn’t see it,” she said. “I’m sure I was busy doing laundry.”

He gave her smile. “It was nice talking to you again.”

“You too. I don’t know how long you’ll be in town, but if you want a nice home cooked meal our door is open.”

“Thank you. I might just take you up on that.”

She touched his arm, turned, and went back to her house. When the door closed David walked around back.

The first thing he tried was the back door, but like the front it was locked. A worn mat lay at the foot of the door. Could it really be that simple? He kicked it to the side but, no, no key. Next he checked under the three pots that now only contained soil, the plants long since rotted away. Nothing. He looked up, thinking.

And then he saw it. Right in plain sight, hanging behind the back porch light, was a key. He reached up, took it, slid it into the lock. He heard the chambers turn followed by a click. When he tried the handle it turned easily, so he pushed the door open.

The abandonment had not been kind to his home. Some of the ceiling plaster had collapsed, littering the counter top in debris. The tiled floor was brown, mostly from water damage. Mouse droppings littered the corners and along the edges of the trim. He tried the light switch knowing nothing would happen. No way was there still power.

David walked into the dining room. Much the same—the carpet was covered in mold. The chandelier hung two feet lower than it should, the base having broken from the ceiling, dangling by the bare wires. Gone was the warmth he remembered, the Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners, just he and Lilly.

He explored the remaining rooms, his mind drifting to the past, sadness growing with each step, days long gone. Here the TV sat, his chair, the couch, watching
Jeopardy!
together, trying to solve the puzzle first. Lying in bed, he with a newspaper, Lilly a book.

This was to be their child’s room before the accident. The crib was to go there, the dresser there. It was one of the brightest rooms in the house, a shining beacon of joy in their lives. But it wasn’t meant to be, and in the end it had become a sewing room for Lilly.

Back in the kitchen he tugged on the stuck basement door. It finally gave, the smell of decay wafting from the darkness. Reaching into his coat pocket, he pulled out a small flashlight. He hadn’t expected the place to be vacant but it never hurt to come prepared. With a press of the button the stairs came into dim view. A dry groan emanated from the old wooden stair as he took a step. He hoped the stairs would hold.