Lifelike

by Sheila A. Nielson

  Silently Aunt Victoria pressed her lips together as if she hadn’t meant for me to actually overhear that last comment.

  “Come on,” I said. “You can’t say something like that and then not tell me the rest of the story. I’ll be sleeping with my light on for weeks.” Which I’d probably do anyway.

  “Margaret Kensington was committed to an asylum right at the end of her life,” Aunt Victoria admitted hesitantly. “Not that I blame her. The poor woman had been through so much in her lifetime—the murder of her niece, and then her own son being accused of the crime just before he tragically died. I can’t imagine how she coped as long as she did. They knew absolutely nothing about treating mental health in those days.”

  “What was she committed for exactly?” If it had anything to do with seeing disembodied shadows lurking around, I was in a world of hurt.

  “She began to have odd obsessions,” Aunt Victoria said thoughtfully. “One of which included the need to pound gaping holes in the walls of this house with a sledgehammer. Margaret’s cousin, Roberta, feared she would do harm to herself. Roberta directed the servants to fix the holes and tried to hush the whole thing up.”

  “By having Margaret put away?”

  Aunt Victoria nodded sadly. “I try to discourage stories about Margaret Kensington’s madness. She was a brilliant artist and an intelligent woman who accomplished much good. I feel strongly she should be remembered for that rather than her brief period of difficulty at the end.”

  “I can respect that.” For the twentieth time, I found myself scanning the floor around us for any creeping gray shadows. I seriously needed to get out of this house. Like, right now.

  “You mentioned a giant gazebo in one of your emails,” I said to Aunt Victoria with a tight smile. It was time to explore the outside grounds of Kensington House.

  I’d only made it halfway across the parking lot when I was distracted by the sounds of a child on the edge of a colossal temper tantrum.

  “Noooooooooooo!”

  I turned in the direction of the sound and found a man standing in the open door of a small, black car. He frowned down at a little girl—maybe six-years-old tops—still seated inside. Though the engine was turned off, she still had her seatbelt securely fastened and her feet propped against the back of the car’s front seat as if ready to brace herself against a sudden impact at any moment. The girl gripped her booster seat’s arm rests on both sides like her life depended on it.

  “Angel-kin, we talked about this, remember?” the man said in a slightly impatient voice. “There isn’t anything for you to be frightened of. Daddy has a plane to catch in a couple of hours. He doesn’t have time for you to be difficult today.”

  “I don’t wanna go in there!” The girl shrieked at her father.

  “I’ll be as quick as possible. We’ll be out of there before you know it,” her father said, reaching for her.

  The girl screamed like a banshee. Clutching the armrest with both hands, she fought him with all her strength, kicking with her legs as he undid the seatbelt. Taking hold of her, the girl’s father attempted to haul her bodily from the car. I watched in horrified fascination as, pale-faced and white-knuckled, the little girl hooked herself onto the door, holding on for dear life.

  She was terrified. Absolutely panic stricken.

  Helpless and completely bewildered, her father let go of her. The little girl hunkered back down in the car seat once again, hands gripping the armrests on either side. The girl’s father glanced helplessly about him and happened to catch sight of me gawking like a rubbernecker at an accident.

  “Hey, would you do me a favor?” the man called out. “Run inside the museum and ask for Victoria Chasswell to come out here to the parking lot.”

  I started slowly toward the car, my curiosity piqued. “Victoria is my aunt,” I admitted.

  “Even better,” the man said, looking decidedly relieved. “Could you go and get your aunt for me. I can’t leave Taylee alone out here in the parking lot, but I need to deliver these dolls to Victoria.” He gestured at two large suitcases sitting on the ground at his feet.

  The dolls! This man had to be Mr. Evans, the previous owner of the museum. According to Gabrielle, Mr. Evans was as reluctant to part with the dolls in those cases as Aunt Victoria was excited to get her hands on them. I had to do something to make sure this exchange went off without a hitch. Mr. Evans already looked frazzled and ready to cut and run at any second.

  “I could watch Taylee while you deliver the dolls. Maybe we could go for a walk,” I suggested, glancing at the girl still sitting in deathly silence in her booster seat. What was wrong with the kid?

  Mr. Evans’ whole face lit right up. “Really? I’d be eternally grateful if you would.” He picked up his cases and started quickly in the direction of the museum. “I’ll be back as fast as I can, Pumpkin,” he called to his daughter as he left.

  I looked at the little girl sitting sullenly in her seat. She stared down at her shiny, patent leather shoes as if her life depended on it.

  “I was just going to explore the grounds,” I said casually. “I hear there’s a huge gazebo around here somewhere.”

  “I know where it is,” Taylee spoke softly, not looking at me. “There’s a swing. A big one. It’s my favorite.”

  Ah-ha! A sign of interest. I could use it to my advantage. “I want so bad to see it,” I said, letting my voice turn wistful. “Do you think you could show me?”

  Taylee bit her lip, chewing thoughtfully. The nod was slow in coming, but I could see her fingers relaxing their grip on the armrests.

  “Well, come on then,” I put out my hand in invitation. Hesitantly, Taylee reached out and took it.

  Chapter Ten

  The rainstorm the night before had washed the world clean. Crystal clear raindrops clung to every surface, flashing like fallen stars hidden amid the grasses. But it was kind of hard to enjoy with Taylee around.

  I glanced at the back of the girl’s small, blond head as she wandered along just ahead of me. Every few feet she would suddenly whirl around, her wide, unblinking eyes desperately scanning everything within sight. Her behavior reminded me of a nervous animal who senses a predator nearby. After she did this a couple dozen times, I started feeling a little twitchy myself. I half expected a disembodied shadow to drag itself out of some nearby bushes and come racing after us.

  “Are you okay?” I asked her.

  At the sound of my voice, Taylee jumped and whirled in my direction. Her eyes were an unsettling black. I could have sworn they were blue back at the car. It took me a few heart-pounding seconds to realize her eyes looked darker because her pupils were abnormally dilated. Like two black holes swallowing up her irises in a vast sea of darkness.

  She looked like a possessed kid.

  Or a really terrified one.

  Taylee didn’t answer my question, but kept looking straight at me in that spooky, unblinking way. This girl was seriously starting to creep me out. What was up with her and this place? How come she was so scared of it?

  “Taylee?” I said, in an attempt to jar her out of her trance.

  “It’s there.” She pointed ahead of us.

  I turned, a little hesitantly I must admit, to see what it was. There before us sat a huge gazebo, easily the size of a classic carousel, with a gorgeous arched roof so tall I could see it peeping over the tops of the trees. It wasn’t really that far from the house, maybe 20 yards or so, but it was tucked in behind a big evergreen and I didn’t see it until Taylee pointed it out.

  Taylee turned and went dashing across the grass toward the gazebo as fast as her short legs would carry her, probably hoping to get first dibs on the swing. It looked like a fancy velvet couch attached by sturdy chains to the highest point in the gazebo’s roof. Unable to resist, I walked over and settled on the swing next to Taylee.

  An impressive spider web hung across the lower part of one of the gazebo’s railings in front of us. Heavy-laden with dew, it glittered
in the sunlight like a necklace of delicate fairy beadwork.

  The gentle rocking of the swing and the creaking of the chains drew Taylee and me into a lazy trance. Insects droned in the distance as a bright yellow butterfly beat its wings against the ceiling, fighting valiantly to fly up into the gazebo’s peaked roof high above. Tiring quickly, the butterfly lost altitude and fluttered down into my lap like a leaf. Taylee froze on the seat next to me, not wanting to scare it away. She and I watched as it slowly opened and closed its beautiful yellow and black wings, as if trying to work up the courage to fly again.

  “So pretty,” Taylee whispered in reverent admiration.

  With startling suddenness, the butterfly darted recklessly into the air and ran smack into the middle of the humongous spider web. The butterfly struggled, its wings twitching in sickening helpless panic. The biggest and blackest spider I’d ever seen, emerged from its hiding place behind a carving of a wooden cherub and quickly advanced on its helpless prey. Taylee gasped, her eyes widening and her face turning pale, as her young mind realized what was about to happen to the pretty butterfly that had captured her small heart.

  I was on my feet in an instant, my hands reaching out before me. My sprained wrist throbbed painfully in protest as my fingers plunged into the middle of the perfect web, tearing it to tatters. Ignoring the pain, I cupped the butterfly between my hands to protect it from its inevitable fate. I could feel the panicked butterfly fluttering its fragile wings within my hands. I pulled away and my skin crawled with revulsion as the invisible threads of cobweb slid over my skin in a stubborn attempt to keep hold of their captured prey. Carefully, I carried the butterfly out of the gazebo and over to the grass. Taylee hurried to follow me.

  “Is it okay? Did the spider hurt it?” I could hear tears threatening in Taylee’s voice.

  I allowed my hands to open slowly for her, like a flower greeting the sun. The butterfly sat very still in the palms of my hands as if it were too afraid to move now that it had discovered how many unseen dangers were out there in the world.

  Taylee sniffled and wiped at her nose. “You saved it.” She smiled up at me through her tears, her eyes aglow with pure childish delight.

  The butterfly within my hands might not mean much to a heartless world, but it meant a lot to the little girl standing next to me. It was a very small thing, saving the life of a butterfly, but it was still something that mattered.

  I carefully carried the butterfly toward the side of the house, where it would be protected from the wind. Taylee trailed solemnly after me. We were just a few feet away from shelter when the butterfly chose to make its move. Fluttering into the air it darted away toward the flower garden like a yellow buttercup caught in the breeze. I couldn’t help but smile to myself as it disappeared among the nodding flowers—free from pain and death just a little bit longer.

  I turned and slowly started back toward the gazebo. I was so caught up in my own thoughts that it took a while for me to realize that Taylee had fallen behind. I looked back and found her standing silently in the grass, squinting up at one of the windows on the second floor of the house.

  “What’s the matter?” I asked her.

  “Why is he looking at you like that?” Taylee asked in a hushed whisper.

  “The butterfly is looking at me?”

  She shook her head. “That boy.” She pointed upward with one small finger. I followed the gesture with my eyes. That particular window was nothing more than an empty, dark square against the lighter color of the house. Which room was that, anyway? I didn’t know enough about the layout of the upper east wing to place it.

  I shielded my eyes with one hand. “I don’t see anyone.”

  “He was there a second ago.” Taylee lowered her finger, considering the empty window with a frown.

  “And this boy was watching us?”

  “No, just you—as you were walking away.” Taylee squinted curiously up at me as if trying to figure out what a boy would find so fascinating about me.

  The sun was warm upon my skin, and yet, I shivered as if some inner iciness had touched me deep inside.

  Someone was watching me?

  Well, it was a public building after all. Guests were allowed to wander about and explore.

  But not on the second floor. Not without an appointment, like the sign at the top of the stairs said.

  I hugged my arms across my body feeling suddenly vulnerable. I wasn’t sure how I felt about having my home constantly invaded by strangers, even if they were the bread and butter that kept this place going.

  “Didn’t you used to live here?” I asked Taylee. The little girl fidgeted without answering me.

  “I was wondered if you knew what those buildings over there are?” I beckoned to a couple of out buildings just beyond the gazebo.

  “That’s the stables,” Taylee said slowly. “But there aren’t any horses anymore. They’re all gone.”

  “Have you ever been inside the stables?”

  Taylee gave her head a hesitant nod.

  “So, if you’ve been in all the buildings around here, why didn’t you want to go inside the museum with your father, just now?”

  My question caused Taylee’s whole body to tense up. Her hands curled up into fists as she stared fixedly at the ground. I heard her breathing change, quickening into small shallow gasps.

  “Don’t be scared, Taylee.” I crouched down next to her, so our faces were level. “I would never make you go inside any place you didn’t want to. We can talk about something else if you like. I was just curious why you don’t like the museum, that’s all.”

  Taylee’s eyes moved slowly upward until she was looking me straight in the face. She chewed her lip a moment, then blinked a few times in rapid succession.

  “I made it mad,” her whisper was so soft, I almost didn’t catch the words.

  “It?” I asked in confusion.

  Taylee’s voice gained volume as her momentum increased. “The basement wall got wet and there was a crack.” The way Taylee said it you’d think this particular crack was right up there with flesh eating zombies.

  I thought of the plumbing leak Matt had been attempting to fix. Hadn’t Gabrielle said something about the same problem happening before?

  “Something was scratching behind the crack—so I made it bigger.” Taylee started to shiver. Her hands, clasped in a tight ball in front of her, trembled. I cupped them in my own in an attempt to comfort her. “It was hiding in there. It didn’t like the light, so it made a scary sound at me, like a snake—then crawled back into the wall, real fast.” Taylee sounded like she was going to start crying any second.

  A sick feeling crept along my stomach lining. “What did it look like?”

  A tremor moved slowly up Taylee’s body. She glanced around her as if she were afraid someone might be listening. Her eyes went to the now empty east wing window above our heads and then to my face. She leaned forward as if she wanted to share a secret. I leaned in so she could put her lips close to my ear.

  When she spoke, her freaky whispering made frosty shivers run through my veins. “It looked—broken.”

  “Tay-lee!”

  Mr. Evans’ distant voice made us both jump like a pair of overwrought jackrabbits. We turned to find her father picking his way carefully through the dew-laden grass. Not that I could blame him, those shoes looked expensive. Taylee took off running to meet him. She put out her arms, seeking comfort. He scooped her up, swinging her high over his head. She broke into a few giggles, her fright forgotten.

  I remembered the time when I still believed daddies had the power to fix anything. I used to think my dad was strong enough to chase away any problem. Then the cancer had come, and I discovered that there were a lot of things daddies can’t fix. Especially if they’re dead.

  As a sudden chill penetrated my body, I folded my arms close and I made my way over to Mr. Evans and Taylee just as he lowered her to the grass. He turned to me with a tired smile.

  “T
hank you,” he said sticking out his hand. “For helping me with Taylee.”

  I shook his hand firmly. “No problem. We had a lot of fun, didn’t we, Taylee?”

  “She saved a butterfly from a spider!” Taylee said excitedly. “She stuck her hand right into the icky web, Daddy. She wasn’t scared or anything!”

  “Helpful and brave,” Mr. Evans said, winking at me over her head. “I hope you grow up to be just like her someday, Taylee.”

  A shard of regret sliced its way into the middle of my chest, lodging itself deep down. Growing up was a luxury for healthy kids.

  “Can we go now?” Taylee asked, a little of her earlier anxiety had returned to her pleading eyes.

  “You bet. How about racing me to the car?” her father said.

  Taylee took off running for the parking lot, laughing happily to herself as she went. If I’d been allowed to leave Kensington House and all its unsettling mysteries behind forever—I’d have been giddy with happiness too.

  Chapter Eleven

  I peeked into the office and found Matt, Aunt Victoria, and Kat already gathered there. Aunt Victoria was seated at the desk with both of the large cases Mr. Evans had been carrying earlier now sitting in front of her. Aunt Victoria ran her hands slowly over the top of the nearest one, almost as if she could sense the dolls through its fireproof shell.

  “Wren, just in time for The Wedding Party’s grand reveal,” Kat said, waving for me to come in and join them in front of the desk. I sat there in the doorway, not sure how to respond to this friendly gesture.

  It had been years since I’d had a friend near my own age. Tara Oakbury, my best friend back in elementary school, stopped coming around after I got sick. Not that I blame her. The last time Tara came to visit, I’d already lost half of my hair, and I threw up my lunch down the front of her shirt. Let’s just say, it did not end well.

  I never really had any close friends after that. Kids could tell something was wrong with me the moment they met me. I didn’t dress right. When I opened my mouth, I talked like something out of a Jane Austen novel half the time. It was probably just as well I’d never attended high school, because fitting in—not really an option for me anymore. You can’t fake normal.