Wolfhowl Mountain

by Dian Cronan

  And then, I begin writing.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Fitzwilliam Ronan Darcy

  November

  If Her goal is to destroy my family from within, then She’s winning. We are officially three strangers sharing one roof.

  Mother becomes more distant and moody each day. It’s a lot like how she was before the split, only worse. She was miserable at work, miserable at home. For a while I only saw her at dinnertime, and then not at all. Even when she was around she was fuming mad about something stupid or depressed and soggy with tears. If it weren’t for her total black out about our fight the other night, I might shrug this all off as same ol’ same ol’. Dad’s reaction before the split – and after – was the same. He was moody and depressed, and basically absent. His body was there, but he wasn’t. It really forced Liam and me to rely on each other not just for support, but for the daily necessities. Food. Rides to school. A hug.

  Oh, Liam. My sweet brother. He becomes more independent each day. He acts like a teenager instead of a five-year-old. He makes his own meals. He takes baths by himself. He tucks himself into bed. He doesn’t want a bedtime story. He doesn’t talk to me about Dad… It’s like he doesn’t need me anymore – at exactly the time when I need him the most. If he doesn’t rely on me, if Liam doesn’t need me – then who really cares about me anymore?

  What if I disappeared? Would anyone notice?

  I wonder how long it would take.

  A few hours?

  A day?

  A week?

  Eternity?

  Logic tells me that even if Mother and Liam didn’t notice, certainly Letta or Beckan would. That should tell you how disillusioned I am, just what kind of hold She can have on you. I know there are people out there who care about me, but I’m able to ignore the fact. It’s like object permanence and babies. Isn’t that what they call it? When the people who care about me leave the room, they cease to exist. They’re gone forever. And if the people who care about me are gone forever, what’s the point in me hanging around?

  Not that I would ever… I couldn’t.

  I wonder if the women who died here thought the same thing. “I would never commit suicide!” …And then they did.

  The air in the house is a thick haze that only we can see. I can feel it every time I come through the door, this tangible, sticky thing. It starts at the top of my head and trickles slowly down. It coats my skin in ice, fogs up my brain, makes my lungs feel wet so that every breath I take is like inhaling water, and I become heavier and heavier.

  How much longer can I hold Her off? Mother’s only days from giving up and letting Her take over completely… and we all know what’ll happen when she finally gives in.

  I’ll be an orphan. I won’t survive that. If I become an orphan, She wins. Everyone who can protect Liam will be gone, and then She will take him for herself. And we’ll just be another family who disappeared on the hill. More ghostly fodder for the tourists. This diary my only legacy. The only proof that I ever existed…

  ***

  When my alarm wakes me Friday morning, my whole body hurts and my palms are throbbing. My muscles are finally letting me know exactly how much trouble they’d gone to in keeping me alive yesterday. I fight the urge to stay curled up under the covers and manage to shower and dress, delicately buttoning my jeans to avoid irritating the blisters on my hands. Gingerly grabbing my backpack, I head downstairs, meeting Mother in the foyer as she rushes around.

  “Mom, what are you still doing here?”

  “Running late, obviously!” She snaps. I notice the puffy purple circles under her eyes as she throws her purse over her shoulder and grabs her umbrella. Realizing she’s forgotten to put on her coat, Mother drops everything, hurriedly throws on her coat again and then puts her purse back over her shoulder, picks up the umbrella, and starts frantically searching the pockets for her keys.

  “Do you need help?” I offer, hoping to calm her burgeoning anger; an angry nurse is no good to anyone.

  “Rose!” Mother spits my name like it’s a curse. Her purse falls back to the floor and she rubs her eyes, smearing her mascara. When she pulls her fingers away, I can see the glassy tears trying to get out.

  “Mom,” I say softly, putting my hands on Mother’s shoulders. “Mom, relax. What’s wrong?”

  She stifles a sob and meets my eyes. “I don’t know, Rose. I’m sorry. I feel like I’m falling apart. I thought coming up here was such a good idea. I thought if we came here and started over we could move on and we could all try to forget about… about…”

  I nod and give her shoulders a squeeze.

  “I don’t know what it is about this place,” she says. “It’s so big and far away… It’s isolating. I’m glad you kids are doing okay. Beckan and Letta are good friends. And Liam seems happy. It’s just, for me, I guess… I’m so lonely.”

  I’m so lonely. It’s as if Mother’s words are in someone else’s voice. She doesn’t sound like herself. She sounds like Alva. Like Barbara. Like my father.

  Mother is staring at me, so I try to recover, try to comfort her. “I know, Mom. The adults in this town are kind of stuffy. But you’ve met…people at work. You should ask some of them to hang out. Have dinner. Go to a movie… a girls’ night or something.”

  “I know, I know.” She nods, seeming to gather herself. “It sounds so simple doesn’t it?”

  “It is, Mom,” I say. “I promise.”

  “Thanks, sweetie.” She gives me a quick hug and then rushes out the door before she changes her mind and goes back to bed.

  It’s weird how our roles have reversed. When did I turn into the rational, responsible one? Mother is becoming obsolete; I can see that now. And I’m one step closer to becoming an orphan.

  ***

  Liam and I meet Beckan at his truck. We pick up Letta on the way as usual. The cab is quiet today, the rumble of the diesel engine all that breaks the cocoon of silence. Liam plays with one of his soldiers he snuck out of the house in his pocket. I stare through the windshield unseeing, preoccupied.

  “Look, there’s Shane and Patty,” Letta says, waving at the two of them through the window.

  “Ooh,” Beckan smiles, “holdin’ hands now?”

  I look up, see the two of them strolling slowly along the road, hand in hand. They smile at each other as if there’s no one else in the world.

  “About time,” Letta says. “They’ve been playing footsie since summer.” She laughs and smiles at Beckan. Beckan smiles back a warm, toothy grin.

  What is that? Is that just a smile? Why is it such a big smile? And why is Letta looking at him like that? I try to push the negativity away, but like a dense mist, it diffuses only a moment before oozing back over me, and my mood sours.

  Beckan drops us off with another warm smile and a cheerful “Have a good day!” Liam darts toward the kindergarten doors without saying goodbye, and Letta and I are left standing on the curb in silence.

  “You’re quiet today,” Letta says. “Are you alright? I mean, you did almost die yesterday, but …why so glum?”

  “Do you know what my mother said to me this morning?” Letta shakes her head. “She said she was lonely.”

  “Yeah? So?” Letta doesn’t get it; I haven’t told her about the other dreams, the ones where everyone’s so lonely, where the dead want company. Mother’s company. My company. I’m not in the mood to explain right now.

  “It means,” I say, turning toward the school, “that I’m running out of time.”

  “That sounds ominous,” Letta says, falling into step beside me. “I’ve gotta say, Rose, I’m stumped. I’ve been thinking about it all nonstop since…well, since we met. And the more we find out, the more confused I am. I don’t understand any of it – or maybe I don’t want to. I’m starting to feel like the rest of the dopes in this town, like there’s nothing we can do.”

  “That’s encouraging,” I snap sarcastically.

  “Sorry. What I mean is, maybe it’s
time we start thinking about getting your family out of there. We can try to convince your mom to sell it back to the historical society.”

  “Letta! That would be a huge financial loss. It’s impossible. We have nowhere to go. Without that house, we’ve got nothing!”

  “Nothing?” Letta says with a disbelieving eyebrow.

  I sigh wearily. “Letta, that house is all we have to our name. Mother sunk every dime we had into that hell hole. My parents were spenders, not savers. My dad was especially good at it. Before he died, he made sure he spent every dime he had out of spite, and Mother spent most of her money on the divorce. Whatever she had left went into the house. I know she won’t say it, but between the mortgage and the utility bills on that drafty piece of crap, we’re living paycheck to paycheck. And,” I take a deep breath, “even if we could convince her to sell, it won’t matter.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I’ve been giving this next part a lot of thought. “I’ve been thinking about the children of Wolfhowl.”

  “Children? You mean Emily Lenore and Shane?”

  “Emily Lenore escaped the house, but her life didn’t get any better. She suffered, like the curse followed her, you know? And Shane… Shane just wasted away and died after he was taken from the house.”

  “Yeah…”

  “I think,” I say, speaking slowly and carefully, considering my words, “I think if we just pick up and leave, it’ll follow us. She’ll follow us and to punish us, she’ll take Liam just like she took Shane. He’ll stay in that house or he’ll die.”

  “Rose, you can’t seriously think that –”

  “Letta, I gave up rational thought a long time ago. It doesn’t apply anymore, not to that house and not to my family. Maybe I’m wrong,” I say, knowing I’m not, “but I can’t take that chance. I just can’t. If I can’t save Liam from Her, then what can I do? We have to stay so I can protect him.”

  “What about Emily Lenore II,” Letta asks. “Maybe she survived and led a good life.”

  “I doubt it,” I reply sourly. “But even if she did, how would we know? She’s untraceable. We don’t know where she came from, who she really was, or what happened to her.”

  “But, Rose,” Letta says softly, “you know what will happen if you stay.”

  “I know. I’ll die.”

  ***

  For once, as I sit in Mrs. Brennan’s homeroom, I’m immune to the sneers and jeers of my classmates. It might be my first day back at school, but I may as well be at home with the cloud of depression that hangs over me. I can feel the pull of the house, of the fire room, on my mind. I sit in the back corner, massaging my raw, angry-looking palms. My eyes are pulled to the windows, looking out for a glance at the mountain, at the deadly cliff I can’t see.

  “And don’t forget to get your ticket to the dance!” The crackling whine of the morning announcements pierces through the haze and my attention is drawn back to the classroom.

  “We’ll see you in the gym tonight at eight!”

  The dance! How could I have allowed myself to forget about that damn dance? Am I relieved Ronan hasn’t sought me out during my suspension to ask me to the dance, as Letta said he would? Or do I feel rejected because no one’s asked me to be their date? I would’ve been at the top of every guy’s list back in Texas. But I don’t need to keep reminding myself this isn’t Texas, and I’m not Texas Rose anymore.

  I don’t want to go to the stupid dance anyway. I’ve been trying to impress the local yokels since I got here and have been met with nothing but ridicule and hatred. They don’t want me around, don’t need me as their queen. They have Mary Donovan for that, even if Ronan dumped her. That doesn’t unseat her…does it?

  I feel Mary’s murderous gaze on me and for a second, our eyes lock across the room. Suddenly, my heart is filled with an anger and hatred so hot I can feel the bile bubblying in my gut like lava. Mary’s piercing stare says she feels the same. If the bell didn’t ring at that precise moment, I’m sure Mary’s head would’ve exploded under the heat of my own rage.

  I go through my first two classes, drifting invisibly through the halls with my head aimed low like a dog, sticking to the back corners and stewing on thoughts of the house. I don’t come up for air until lunch.

  Patty and Shane sit close together across from me and Letta. They smile at each other like dopes, holding hands under the table and eating their lunches one-handed. Obviously, they’re going to the dance together. I try to be happy for them, but the longer I look at them, the sicker I feel.

  “What ‘bout you guys,” Patty asks. “You’re comin’ right?”

  I don’t reply and Letta shrugs, “Pass.”

  “Aww,” Patty whines. “C’mon! We’ll have fun!”

  “Yeah,” Letta snorts, “we’ll look real cute, you, me, and Shane, slow dancing in a triangle. It’ll be a regular ol’ square dance.” Her face sinks into her tray as she pushes some cold peas around with a bent fork.

  “Rose?” Patty looks at me hopefully.

  “I dunno… I don’t have a date and Mary’ll find a way to ruin it anyway.”

  Patty’s smile shrinks away from her face. “Aww.”

  “Yeah,” Shane says, oblivious to Patty’s disappointment. “She’s been gunnin’ for you the last few days. Oof!” Patty kicks him hard under the table. “Uh, but who cares ‘bout Mary anyway, am I right?”

  “Don’t worry,” Letta says. “You’ll have fun without us. It’ll be more romantic that way.” Patty’s encouraged, but I detect the subtle sarcasm lurking in Letta’s voice. “Rose and I’ll find something to do with ourselves.”

  “I really thought Ronan was gonna ask you tah be his date,” Patty says. “Everyone did.”

  “Why? So he can pour pig’s blood all over me? No thanks. I’m relieved he didn’t ask me, to tell the truth. One less thing to worry about.”

  Shane’s eyebrows suddenly begin fleeing to his hairline as he looks over my shoulder. “I think you’re speakin’ a bit too soon…”

  Patty follows his gaze, her mouth agape, and Letta guffaws in angry disbelief. When I finally turn around, I’m shocked into silence.

  Ronan strides across the cafeteria with just a shade of red in his cheeks, a smile plastered ear to ear. His short hair is brushed back, glistening with gel. He wears a long navy blue waistcoat with large ivory buttons down the middle. A blood red cravat pokes out of his perfectly white shirt collar. Beneath the coat he wears a pair of tight tan slacks with a red stripe racing down the side, which end in a pair of shiny black boots. One hand holds onto his waistcoat collar, and the other grasps an ornate cane. He struts across the cafeteria like a peacock showing off his feathers, like he isn’t wearing clothes that belong in a Jane Austen novel while his classmates catcall and whoop with laughter.

  Ronan smiles as he approaches, and I try to close my mouth. He takes my hand daintily in his own. “My lady,” he bends stiffly at the waist and gently brushes the back of my hand with his lips.

  “Ronan,” Letta spits, “what the hell?”

  Ronan ignores Letta, his smile faltering for only a second as he releases my hand. The cafeteria fills with a charged silence.

  “My lady,” he says in a terribly fake and loud British accent, performing for the whole cafeteria, “Colonel Fitzwilliam Ronan Darcy – that’s me – would like Miss Elizabeth Rose Bennet – that’s you – to join him at tonight’s ball. He shant take no for an answer.” He winks.

  I’m too shocked to respond. I can’t believe what he’s wearing, that he’s put this elaborate costume together for me, or that he’s embarrassed himself in front of the entire student body for me. My feelings are confusing; I’m simultaneously flattered, distrusting, embarrassed, happy – all wound tightly together. But the student body demands an answer.

  “Um,” I try to think of how Jane Austen would write this scene. “Why, Miss Bennet would be delighted, Mr. Darcy.”

  “What?!” Letta yelps.

  “Excellen
t,” Ronan straightens and throws another wink my way. “A coach shall pick you up promptly at seven. We shall dine and then head to the ball. You will find your dress awaiting you when you arrive home this evening. Ta-ta.” He tucks the cane under an arm and turns on his heels, strutting back across the cafeteria, bowing to the erupting applause and hoots of his classmates. As I look away, I glimpse Mary, sprinting from the cafeteria in tears. A smile slithers onto my lips.

  When I turn back to my friends, Shane is confused and Patty’s about to faint from the romanticism of it all. Letta is absolutely furious.

  “You’re actually going to go to the dance with him,” Letta says indignantly.

  I shrug. “How am I supposed to say no to a performance like that? Seriously?” It’s a grand gesture, a sign that maybe I’ve misjudged Ronan. And it’s a small pinprick of light in my life, something to be happy about for once. And most importantly, it gets me out of the house.

  “I can’t believe you’re going to fall for that crap!” Letta’s insults and jeers continue, uttered to no one in particular. “It’s obviously some kind of ploy.”

  But I can’t hear anything Letta’s complaining about. I’m looking at Patty, who’s as awestruck as I am. “What did he say about a dress?”

  Chapter Forty-Three

  The Fall Dance

  Letta disappears after lunch without another word to anyone. I don’t see her after school, but there’s no room in my brain for Letta right now anyway. Shane appeared after the dismissal bell long enough to give Patty a quick kiss on the cheek before disappearing on some mysterious, but Patty fantasized romantic, errand. Patty walks halfway home with me, spouting off about how great the dance will be the entire way, barely stopping to breathe. She practically floats down her street when we part ways.

  The Bauer’s house is dark and empty. Puzzled, I wonder if they’ve taken Liam on some errand around town, but when I get home, Liam sits alone at the kitchen table with his snack. Mother apparently left work early with a headache and picked Liam up from school.