by Rachel Kane
“Nope,” said Alex. “One little accident bringing people together is enough, I think.”
They got back to work moving the lions, but Judah stayed behind, to hold Alex while they watched the statues being pulled up the ramp. Up to the surface, to the real world.
To the future.
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In case you missed it… A Selection from “Spring Forward,” the first book in Superbia Springs!
“I assume you’ve seen the house,” said the old lawyer, looking up from his legal pad. The edges of the pad were frayed and dog-eared; he had been rubbing them with his thumb ever since Liam came into the tall, sparsely furnished room. It made Liam wonder if the lawyer were nervous about something. Or maybe Liam was projecting his own nerves. The whole drive down, he had been agitated, expectant, even if he didn’t know what he was expecting. He stared at the edge of the yellow pad. Those pages looked like how he felt right now.
“Sorry, I haven’t,” Liam said.
The older man’s bushy eyebrows rose. “No? You’ve never been? They’ve never taken you?”
Liam’s head shake might have been meant to communicate No, no one ever has, but his eyes couldn’t stay on the lawyer’s. Instead, they traveled past him, looking at the clock on the wall. How many hours had he been away from home now? Was everything okay? What was it that required him to be here, now, in this office, with everything going on back home?
He made himself focus back on the lawyer, made himself force a smile. No reason not to be friendly. “I don’t think my family knows anything about this, Mr. Edwards. I never heard of a Great-Uncle Silas, until your secretary called to make this appointment. I’m still not convinced I’m the man you’re looking for.”
The lawyer’s teeth disapproved, making a clicking tsk, as if Liam should know that family was the most important thing—even very, very distant family that had been dead for some time. Liam wondered if Mr. Edwards’ home was covered in family pictures, generation after generation, back to the very beginning of photography. Maybe paintings as well. Here is a cave-painting of Great-Great-Great-Grandpa Grog. Really captures the eyes, doesn’t it?
He kept his laugh to himself, but had to remember to tell that one to Judah and Noah when he got home. They were probably still in shock that he, of all people, would drop everything and rush to a town he’d never been to, down in the flattest, most parched land Georgia had available, all to talk about an inheritance from some uncle he’d never heard of.
“I can take you to see it,” Edwards said, pushing the legal pad to the side. “It’s out of town a ways.”
This whole place is out of town a ways, Liam thought. The car he’d rented for the drive was covered in orange dust, and its air conditioning had kept threatening to quit, the minute he’d left the interstate and started on the long, plain back roads that lead him to Superbia. “Can we take your car?” he asked.
A clanging sounded from his pocket, like a recording of church bells falling onto pavement, just as they stepped out of the law office and into the blinding-white sun. Liam blinked and pulled out his phone. “I didn’t realize I had reception out here,” he said.
Mr. Edwards scowled. “We are not uncivilized, Mr. Cooper.”
“Give me a sec. I have to take this.” He stepped away from the lawyer, into the slightly cooler shade by the side of the office, and tapped his screen. “Judah? What’s up? Is everything okay? Is she—”
“Oh god, Liam, she poops so much!”
“I’m pretty sure I told you that already.”
His younger brother sounded frantic. “Yeah, but I thought you were exaggerating! How many diapers should she go through, I mean, in terms of diapers per day? Or should I measure it in diapers per hour? I thought about making a chart, a spreadsheet— Oh, but should I send Noah to buy more, or—”
“Um, dude, where is Mom?”
“That’s the worst part! She said it looked like Roo was in good hands, so she went off to lunch with her friends, and I don’t know anything about babies—”
“Yeah? Think about how I feel!” There was an edge to his voice that he hadn’t intended. But ever since he’d left Rooney in his brother’s care (with promises of close supervision from his mother), he’d felt a constant anxiety clutching at his stomach. A baby shouldn’t be away from her dad that long, he’d told his mom.
I’ve raised two babies so far, hon, and I haven’t lost either of you yet, so trust your mama, she’d said. Besides, whatever this meeting is, you think little Roo wants to sit through that?
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap,” he said into the phone. “It’s just hard, not having Roo with me. Listen, having a baby, it’s 50% love and 50% sanitation duty. Maybe sometimes more like 75% sanitation. Did you look in the linen closet? I stocked extra diapers, extra wipes, extra ointment—”
“Ohhh, the linen closet,” said Judah.
Judah was whip-smart, the smartest person Liam knew, but sometimes he needed the obvious pointed out to him. From a distance, Liam could hear Roo cooing happily. For all Judah’s worry, Liam knew his daughter loved her uncle. After all, Judah had been there from the start, even through those hard times, right after Richard—
Liam shook his head. No time to think about that.
“Not to change the subject, but have you had your big meeting yet?” Judah asked. “What’s it all about?”
“I’m about to find out,” he said. “Now look, quit worrying about Roo. You’re going to do fine. You don’t have to make any charts, don’t have to do any calculations. Unless it makes you feel better, in which case, go for it. If you need a break, Noah promised he’d help you watch her. Between you, him and Mama, you really aren’t going to have any problems. Just…”
“Just what?”
“Just don’t play any of your video games in front of her, okay? I don’t need her seeing you blowing up zombies or whatever.”
Judah tsked in a way that sounded just like Mr. Edwards had. “Zombies are so passé, Liam. This isn’t the early 2000s, you know.”
When they were in the car, Mr. Edwards glanced over at him. “Did I hear you mention diapers? Do you have a child, Mr. Cooper?”
“I do,” Liam said. He reached forward and adjusted the passenger-side air conditioning vent, so it was blowing on his face. The cold was an instant relief.
“Our records must be outdated,” said the lawyer. “I hadn’t realized. And your wife, is she—”
Liam cut him off. “Tell me more about my Great-Uncle Silas, please? I’ve asked my mom, but I guess my dad never talked about his more distant family.”
Dad never talked about a lot of things.
The lawyer blinked, clearly aware of Liam’s abrupt change in subject, but just as clearly too seasoned to probe into the matter right now. He must have seen a lot of family drama in his career. He simply started the car and pulled out onto the dusty road.
“You’ll have to understand that I never met your uncle myself,” said Mr. Edwards. “By the time I took over the practice, he had become reclusive. We communicated only by letter. He was insistent that your father should inherit, having no children of his own… But I suppose you know all about your father’s refusal.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way,” said Liam, “but please don’t suppose I know anything about my dad or his family. Things there were always…”
His voice trailed off. What was it about him lately? Words kept failing him, as though he’d reached the end of life’s dictionary and had no words left to say.
Mr. Edwards patted the steering wheel with his hand, as though patting Liam on the shoulder. A little attaboy, a little it’s okay that you know nothing about your father or his family.
It was the furthest thing from okay. It kept slapping him in the face, over and over. Sometimes it seemed like the late Rodney Cooper had spent a lifetime collecting secrets to
shock his eldest son, as they came out, one by one.
“My dad never wanted this house?”
Glancing at the rear-view mirror, he saw the lawyer’s eyes cutting to the side. “I’m afraid not. We could not even get him to come back to town to sign the papers.”
They were passing through the town, but already in the distance the land was visible, the green fields that seemed oddly out of place here, where one would expect nothing but barren flats, clay deserts growing nothing but scraggly grass fit only for goats. How could these farms survive the heat? Yet they seemed to flourish, acre after acre of corn and peanut.
Somewhere out there would be the house Uncle Silas had tried to pawn off on Dad. Probably some ramshackle construction of clapboard, half-collapsed from too much sun, like all the energy had been sapped out of its timbers. The same way Liam felt.
How did anyone live out here?
And yet people did. Mr. Edwards raised his hand to a lady who was sweeping the sidewalk of a storefront, and she smiled and waved back, peering past him to get a look at Liam. There were stores, houses, vehicles, all the signs of a small town’s life.
“Over there is the motel,” the lawyer said, pointing through the glass. “It might be smart to book a room there, if you haven’t already.”
“I don’t think I’ll be in town that long,” said Liam.
Mr. Edwards made a hum that suggested otherwise. “And there’s the Red Cat Cafe. Be sure to visit. That’s where my daughter works. Best coffee in town.”
Only coffee in town, probably, thought Liam.
“How long does it take to get to this house?” he asked.
“Oh, not long. In better weather I would’ve suggested we walk the distance. I understand it’s a popular walk for schoolchildren in town.”
That was an odd thing to hear. “Why are kids walking to my great-uncle’s house?”
Those bushy eyebrows rose again. “Cooper’s Folly has been the talk of the town for generations. You really don’t know anything about it, do you?”
“I really don’t, but you’re beginning to worry me. Why is it called Cooper’s Folly?”
The land had changed and changed again; after a few turns, lush fields gave way to pasture dotted with black cows, then to trees, and now tall untidy bushes, bristling with branches and sharp-edged leaves, like squat guards patrolling the side of the road. Mr. Edwards pulled beside a gate which had been hidden by the overgrowth, like something from a fairy tale…or a horror movie.
“Perhaps it’s better if I just show you,” he said to Liam, removing a thick keyring from the center console of the car. “Perhaps seeing it would be easier than explaining it to you.”
The gate’s lock rasped and complained, its bars reminding Liam of some ancient prison. An attempt had been made to rust-proof the heavy wrought iron, but layer after layer of old paint was flaking off, and the disturbance of being unlocked was throwing up a flurry of black and orange. The untouched dirt on either side of the gate showed that no one had been through in some time. Vines had begun to strangle some of the bars of the gate, extending themselves from the chaos of shrubbery to either side.
The appearance was of the most desolate abandonment. An appropriate symbol for his father’s side of the family.
Each side of the gate was decorated with a single letter, a monogram, an ornamental S. “S, instead of C?” asked Liam. “S for Silas?”
Mr. Edwards worked at the lock until it finally gave with a metallic groan, letting the key turn heavily clockwise. Without speaking, he threw the gate open; the vines kept it from swinging completely, and in fact began to pull it closed again, but Liam quickly stepped up and kept the gate at arm’s length, so they wouldn’t crash onto Mr. Edwards and get his suit dirty. “You first,” he told the lawyer.
“Thank you. I really should have come out here earlier to prepare things for you, or at least sent someone to oil the gates.” He brushed his hands off with his handkerchief. “Mr. Cooper, if you’ll come this way.”
The drive curved off, so that the view was blocked by more of these ferociously untended shrubs. Something rustled within them, something that moved fast and low; Liam wondered if it was a rabbit. The drive turned from dirt to gravel, and their feet crunched against it. As they drew closer to that curve, Liam found that his breath was coming faster, his heart beating in anticipation. What was it? What cursed and unwanted gift had Great-Uncle Silas tried to bestow on them, that his father had refused…that he hadn’t even told his family about?
That was the strangest part of all this. It wasn’t just his father’s refusal of his inheritance. It was the fact he had never mentioned it to Liam, to Judah, or even to Mama.
“Now, I should warn you,” began Mr. Edwards, but Liam was tired of waiting. He hurried ahead, feet pounding against the gravel, until he had come around the curve and saw—
And saw—
“Oh my god,” he said.
Mr. Edwards came up behind him, puffing, and Liam felt a momentary guilt for making the old man run. Now he did put his hand on Liam’s shoulder, but more to support himself, than to support Liam. Although Liam could’ve used it.
The drive continued, sloping down until it encircled a defunct fountain, dry and so covered in dead vines it was impossible to tell what the statue in the middle of it represented. And past the fountain?
Past the fountain, the vines had continued their work, creeping up stone walls and green copper drainpipes, unfurling thick leaves to catch the sunlight, until they had nearly covered their prey. Somehow the columns jutting up to support the portico had been spared this botanical assault, but what looked like a hundred windows to either side peered down at him, the ivy leaves like the eyelashes of unblinking eyes, a sleepy giant considering whether to welcome him in or not.
“It’s… It’s a mansion,” said Liam, staring up, his breath hardly able to form the words. “A mansion?”
The hand squeezed his shoulder.
“Liam Cooper,” said Mr. Edwards, “Welcome to Superbia Springs.”
Find out more in Spring Forward, now available on Amazon!
Afterword
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