The keepers, p.18
The Keepers, page 18
They sat there for a moment the tiny kitchen silent except for the occasional pop of a glowing coal in the wood cook stove. Jack hung his head and rubbed the back of his neck. Maybe Posey never noticed anything about the people at the lodge. Farley was like an old watchdog where Posey was concerned, he probably protected Posey from the guests. Farley had never claimed kinship to Posey, but Iris Dolass hadn’t made Posey by herself. Farley kept too close track of Iris and her simple-minded son to be an innocent bystander. Posey might not know who his daddy was, but Jack thought he did. If there was anything funny at the lodge Farley would have kept Posey out of it.
“So, you never noticed them doing anything strange?”
Posey shook his head.
“Well, I did. I started watching. I’d sneak around there and Farley caught me several times, but I made out like I was drunk. Actually didn’t take much pretending. Most of the time I was. A good thing, too. Otherwise I’d never lived through what I finally saw.
“Late one night they took off tromping through the woods. Went right up the valley, climbed the hill to the old castle. About fifteen of them. I watched and right in the middle of the ruins they built a fire. They marched around it, not singing exactly, sort of chanting. Posey, I swear I saw this... they brought a young goat out from a place over in the shadows of the stone wall and they slit it from throat to tail. And they weren’t having no barbecue! They didn’t care nothing about the carcass, it was the blood and guts they wanted. I didn’t see everything, but I saw enough. I slunk back into the woods and puked till my stomach was sore. Now, you tell me if they ain’t a bunch of ghouls.”
Posey’s eyelids fluttered and he shifted around on the straight-backed chair till the legs creaked. “Them people hurt a little goat?”
“I saw it, Posey.”
“I’d a made them stop.”
“Couldn’t, there was too many of them. I was going to tell the police, but when they left there wasn’t a sign of anything. They cleaned it up, every bit of it. That’s why I kept on watching, trying to get something, some proof somebody could believe. There wasn’t any use talking to Farley or anyone in town, those creeps spread too much money around.”
“Then they is bad people.” Posey crinkled his face up into a tight knot. “I told Farley they made me creepy crawly. But he said it was okay, they would never hurt Posey, told me what nights to stay in the house. Said I shouldn’t never come out till he said so.”
“Posey,” Jack spoke slowly. “What secret did you and Farley have?”
Posey wiped his nose with the back of his hand and looked down at his lap.
“Don’t be afraid, there’s nothing wrong with telling a secret after the other person is gone. Can’t hurt him now. Hell, if something happens to me you can tell our secret.”
“Don’t guess nothing can hurt Farley,” Posey said. “Couldn’t nothing even find him.”
“That’s right, and I won’t tell. We can have another secret between us.”
“Ain’t nothing big. Don’t mean much to no one else, but Farley said not to tell. He fixed it so Posey could always work at the lodge, and stay in this house. But that’s a good joke on him cause this place was mine anyway.”
“That’s all?” Jack slumped with disappointment. He didn’t know what he expected, but he’d hoped for more.
“That, and the other thing about staying hid when he said to. Before he left he fixed it so Posey would always know.”
Posey got up and went to the calendar. He lifted the page and pointed with a thick index finger to a circled date. Jack leaned sideways and squinted at the calendar. June 6 was outlined in glaring red. It matched the number seared in Jack’s mind; only the year was different. It took him several minutes to gain enough control to speak.
“Sit down, Posey. I got to tell you one more part of our secret. The bad thing I did last night, it wasn’t just being drunk. I went to the lodge and shot at the new people. I did it to scare them away so those others wouldn’t come anymore, so the lodge would close.”
Posey frowned. “If the lodge is shut up, Posey won’t have no job. You did a bad thing, Jack, real bad!”
“I know, but I promise not to do it anymore.”
Posey took a long time and Jack was nearly soaked with sweat. He had to have someplace close to the lodge to hide so he could keep watch and figure out what to do. Posey’s house was perfect. But not if Posey decided to tell that he was there.
“Okay,” Posey said. “But if you hurt Miz Nolan or little Andy... Posey will tell everybody where you are. He sure will.”
A fresh batch of dark clouds rolled in over the valley and the rain started again, this time in earnest. Posey began cleaning his small house, going about his chores in a slow steady way. Jack went back to the scratchy couch and stretched out on it, fighting the sickness in his stomach and the ache in his head. He’d tried to lay off the booze before, it always took several days until he was in shape to do anything except lay around and feel miserable. But a weak plan was taking shape and he had to start by getting himself straight.
Whatever went on at that lodge centered on June 6th. This year Jack meant to stop it.
By late afternoon Jack was in agony, more than he had been in for a long time. His mouth was ash dry, and if it wasn’t death staring him in the face it was its second cousin. Jack wasn’t going to make it, unless he had a couple of belts to get him through the worst part. Jack shivered and shook. There was a bottle of cheap Scotch in the cabinet at his apartment. He could see it, and taste its slightly iodine flavor, and feel its heat spreading through his chest. He ached for its numbing release.
Jack dragged himself off the couch and stood looking out the window at the pelting rain. Wouldn’t nobody but a fool be out in this. Jack rubbed his knuckles across the stubble on his chin and another tremor shook him. He could make it to town and back in no time. He would not bring anything back to Posey’s, take a few quick drinks to clear his head and help him sleep tonight.
Jack whirled around and tromped to the back door, with each step his stomach lurched and his head pounded. But help was on the way.
“Where you going?” said Posey.
“I’ll be back shortly, don’t worry.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Andy stood beside the bed watching Jessie. An early summer storm hurled gusts of rain at the windows and beat on the roof. The howling wind swirled the dark rainy day around the lodge like a wet, gray shroud. Andy shivered in the dim room. Maybe if he turned on the bedside lamp it would help, but that might wake his mother. Andy wiped his moist palms down the sides of his jeans and leaned closer. With her mouth slightly open showing the tips of her teeth, her lips pale and dry, she seemed more unconscious that asleep. Andy started to touch her forehead to check for fever, the way she did when he was sick, but there was no need. She was too white and old looking to have that kind of sickness.
Andy put his index finger to his mouth and nibbled at the already chewed-to-the-quick nail. He wasn’t supposed to do that. He dropped his hand. Then before he knew it, he was doing it again. His dad had said she was all right, to let her sleep. But what if he was wrong? As he stood in the watery gray morning light Andy felt small and useless. Everyone else had been up for several hours and Jessie still lay there, too quietly to suit Andy. For one terrible moment he feared she might never move again. Then Jessie moaned and rolled onto her side. Andy smiled with relief. Maybe it would be okay to leave for a while, he was hungry and she might be awake by the time he ate and came back. Carefully Andy pulled the corner of the light brown blanket over Jessie’s bare shoulder and tiptoed from the room.
A milky, gray light streamed through the front windows of the lodge, it made the lobby seem lifeless and hollow. It matched the way Andy felt. He knew something had happened in the lodge last night, but his only information was Denise’s snippy reply that some drunk had tried to break in. Andy went through the lounge and the dining room, walking with his head down and his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He frowned with worry. What if they’d been in danger last night and he slept right through it. If someone had meant to harm them why didn’t he get that strange tingling feeling? Maybe It went to sleep when he did. He hoped not, because he felt certain that they needed a warning system in this place.
The kitchen was filled with a white glare from the overhead fluorescent lights. The room was startling in its isolated brightness. Stan was drinking coffee and Denise was spreading strawberry jam on a piece of toast. Andy stood for a minute blinking and feeling out of place. They didn’t notice him. Perhaps he was invisible. Maybe he could walk right up and touch them and they wouldn’t know. He felt shut out, alone, a hard knot formed in his chest. He swallowed to break it up. He climbed onto a stool and pushed the corners of his mouth up into a smile.
“Mom is still asleep. Shouldn’t we get her up for breakfast?”
Stan frowned and lifted his coffee cup. “No. Let her alone. I told you, she’s tired.”
“Why, what happened?”
His father looked at him closely. It was that I think you’ve done something look. Andy squirmed and tried to remember if he’d done anything wrong recently. He’d been very careful lately. Stan kept staring.
“Didn’t you hear anything last night?” he asked.
Andy shook his head.
“Do you know a man named Jack Tanner?”
“Nope.”
“Hasn’t your mother told you anything about him?”
“No.”
The knot in Andy’s chest grew tight and hot, making him breathe faster. His hands were wet again and he wiped them on his knees. Stan got up and went to the big black stove to refill his cup. As he spoke again his back was toward Andy.
“You wouldn’t lie to me, would you, Andy?”
“I’m not lying. I don’t know what you’re talking about. What’s going on around here anyway?”
Denise brushed a few crumbs off the table and raised one eyebrow as if something were making her tired. “I told you when you got up. That man, Tanner, he tried to break in.”
“So what makes you think I’d know anything about him?” Andy’s voice rose to a high squeak. “And how come you two are acting so funny?”
“Calm down, Andy,” Stan said. “We don’t need you getting hysterical. Your mother is enough to deal with right now.”
Andy’s stomach sloshed, full of some green rotten stuff. He wasn’t hungry anymore. He wanted to run outside, but it was raining harder now, coming down in fat heavy drops that slammed against the windows and formed solid sheets of water. The lodge was sealed in wet silver; a tight closed building squeezing the four of them, bringing out musty dank frightening things.
“What’s the matter with my mother?” Andy glanced at Stan, then his head snapped around as if jerked by a chain and he glared at Denise. “Is she sick? Did you make her sick?”
Denise’s pink cheeks blanched white and her dark eyes widened in alarm. She licked her lips and tried to look bewildered, but Andy had caught her first reaction.
“Daddy,” Denise pleaded. “Will you do something about him? He’s really getting too weird for words.”
“I don’t have time. Shorty Sloane will be here in a few minutes. I hope he’s as good as Melanie says, it’ll take a genius to repair that panel.”
Stan left the kitchen without a look at Andy; Denise followed him. Andy sat in the silent kitchen and stared at the wood grain of the maple block table. Stan had looked at him as if he were a stranger. Denise acted as if she would hurt him if she got the chance. Something terrible was wrong with them. As Andy thought about it he got a drifting, lightheaded feeling, as if he were melting away and soon there would be only a tiny speck of him left sitting on the stool. This was far worse than being afraid of some monster in the night. Some unspeakable thing that you knew was the enemy. This was like having his own hands become alien and try to strangle him.
How could you fight a part of yourself?
Andy slipped off the high seat and wiped at the sweat across his upper lip. He wanted to go back upstairs and stay close by his mother, but Stan and Denise were in the lobby and he didn’t know if he had the courage to walk past them. Slowly Andy went through the dining room. The tables were set with salt and pepper shakers and small bud vases, Velma had them arranged for tomorrow. Then Andy crept through the lounge and stopped at the lobby door. Stan was at the desk talking to a man he called Shorty. Denise stood to one side listening for a minute and then went upstairs. Andy slid behind one of the wide double doors between the lounge and the lobby where he watched through a crack.
Velma’s husband was as short and round as she was tall and angular. He wore bib overalls and a white dress shirt that was ragged and frayed at the collar and cuffs. His right cheek puffed out in a bulge that he constantly worked at with his tongue. The front door was closed because of the rain, but twice while Shorty talked he opened the door and shot a stream of brown juice out into the water-soaked day. Andy wished he could see how far Shorty could spit. Stan wouldn’t like it if Shorty was making a mess on the porch.
A wooden tool box sat beside Shorty’s high-topped leather boots. He picked out a small chisel with a tiny claw on one end and squinted as he studied the desk panel.
“Have to take the molding off first. If it don’t split we can save it.”
“Can you repair it today?” There was an edge of impatience to Stan’s voice.
“I reckon so. Be raw wood though. Now if you want a better job, do it the right way, it’ll take longer. Have to send away for some matching panels.”
“How long would that take?”
“Couple of days, maybe.”
“No. I want it done today.”
“Okay. I’ll use a piece of walnut and slap some stain on it. Won’t have no shine, but I can come out and put some varnish on it next day or so.”
Stan rubbed his forehead and looked at the desk as if it were a patient who the doctor had pronounced crippled for life. “All right, get to it then.”
Shorty turned and went to the door, once more adding an amber shot of tobacco out to mingle with the silver rain. Then he came back to kneel by the desk and started prying under the strip of walnut molding. Stan hovered above Shorty as if it were a delicate life threatening operation. One of the little nails squealed and squeaked as it pulled loose. Stan stiffened and clenched his hands. Stan’s expression filled Andy’s stomach with a sweet sticky sickness. When Stan ran his hand lovingly over the desktop Andy gagged. There wasn’t anything for Andy to throw up, but a vile greenness rose as if there were.
“You say Jack did this?” Shorty asked as he worked the wad of tobacco to his other jaw.
“Yes. Do you know the man?”
“Sure do. Leastways what’s left of him. Must of went clean off his rocker this time. Used to come sneaking around here watching the tourists. Farley told him once he would shoot his ass if he didn’t stay away.”
“You mean he has caused trouble here before?”
Shorty stopped working and cocked his head, squinting at Stan. “Well, nothing like this. Just hung around making people nervous.”
“Why didn’t Mr. Pritchard call the police?”
“Most likely same reason you didn’t. I reckon we can take care of our own. I doubt Jack will be out here again. Once he sobers up he’ll be scared silly over what he did. That is if he even remembers.”
Shorty told Stan about Jack and why he was so crazy. As Andy eavesdropped he got the story tangled up with what he’d seen at the old bridge. His eyes widened and he chewed his lower lip as he tried to separate the two incidents. Something around here hurt little girls. And the hair standing up on the back of Andy’s neck said that little boys weren’t that safe either.
“Never found shirt nor shift of his little gal. We felt sorry as hell for him. But that don’t give him call to make life miserable for the rest of us. I imagine one of these days he’ll drop dead. A man can’t pour that much hooch down his gullet and live too long.” Shorty had the molding off. Then he pulled the nails out of the larger panel. “There now, clean as a whistle. I’ll go to my truck and get the new panel. You’ll see, this is going to look fine.”
While Shorty was gone, Denise came back downstairs.
“Is Jessie still sleeping?” Stan asked.
“No, she’s awake now.”
“Is she getting up?”
“She tried, but I told her to stay in bed. I’m going to fix her some tea and toast.”
“Damn. Just what we need, and invalid.”
Denise patted Stan’s shoulder and smiled. “Don’t worry, Daddy. I’m sure she’ll be better soon. Besides, you have to admit things are better with her staying upstairs. You know how funny she’s been acting lately. I would think you would be grateful to have her out of the way, until we can decide what to do about her.”
Stan frowned and rubbed his chin. Then a crafty light flickered in his eyes and he began to smile.
“You’re right. We should start facing facts. I’ve never said anything about it. I thought you were too young to understand. But now you see if for yourself. Your poor mother hasn’t been right for a long time. She has always harbored a strange paranoid fear. I never wanted it to come to this, yet I don’t think we can bury our heads in the sand much longer. Especially with another unbalanced person loose in the area.”
“What do you mean, Daddy?”
“We must watch for signs of her getting worse. No telling what she and that Tanner might come up with if they get together again. If she doesn’t get better soon perhaps we should consider putting her into a place with professional care.”
Denise ducked her head sorrowfully, but there was the ghost of a smile. “Poor Daddy, you have so much to think about, but you can count on me. I’ll take care of Mother.”
