“Is Mittie’s house still there?” asked Ethan.
“Yes, I believe so, though I haven’t seen it in many years. I don’t think anyone lives there now, at least not the last I heard, but that may have changed. Oh, I do hope the ravages of time haven’t overtaken it.” As she talked Ethan assisted her carefully across the uneven graveyard, back to the cast-iron bench.
“It was a few weeks before I saw Mittie again. Taking one of my walks, I found her sitting beneath her favorite oak tree. As I approached and sat down on the white wicker chair beside her, I knew something wasn’t right because she seemed very distracted and nervous, looking away from me as she talked, her face mostly hidden behind the large bonnet she wore.
“Suddenly, Horace yelled her name from within the house, and she reflexively turned towards me. I could see a large bruise surrounding her right eye, and it frightened me. ‘Please come back tomorrow and see me,’ she whispered. ‘Horace is leaving for a few weeks. I would love some company.’ With that she disappeared inside the house.”
“This Horace must have been some kind of jerk,” said Ethan.
“You state it mildly.
“Mittie wasn’t wearing the bonnet the next day,” she continued, “as though figuring there was no longer any reason to hide the bruise. I found her again sitting beneath the oak tree knitting, the bonnet in her lap. She had told me once that she preferred fresh air to a hat of any sort. This time she was in good spirits, and I didn’t want to ruin her good mood by asking questions about anything that might be upsetting to her. I pretended that nothing adverse had happened, almost convincing myself, and we had a very enjoyable day together, unaware of the approaching storm. I say storm figuratively.
“It was in fact the best day we’d had together. Mittie showed me some examples of her wonderful knitting pieces, and I also learned that she was adept at quilting. I showed such a great interest in her quilts that she declared we would make one together, if it pleased me, which of course it did. She instructed me to start collecting fabric pieces, anything that I found interesting or beautiful.
“I was beside myself with excitement about making the quilt when I got home that day. I recruited Ester to help me look about the house to find just the perfect fabric pieces, not knowing that the quilt would never be finished, nor started, for that matter. I’ve left behind so many unfinished quilts in my life, beautiful pieces of dreams and intentions never fully assembled. That very next night the colorful pieces of fabric lay abandoned in a pile on my bed while I helped prepared Mittie for her coffin.
Ethan gasped. “What happened?”
“It’s so terrible a thing,” said Zelma. “It stabs my heart anew this day.
“Her husband, Horace, was supposed to be gone for a few weeks, so you can imagine my surprise when I looked out my bedroom window the next morning and saw him riding his black horse up the long driveway. There was something horribly wrong, I knew deeply in my heart. The grim reaper riding a horse towards the house wouldn’t have been a more ominous sign. My heart felt like it was going to beat out of my chest, and I nearly screamed when I heard Horace pounding on the front door.”
A bolt of lightning struck the ground from some distance behind the great house, followed by a loud clap of thunder.
“Oh mercy, we need to get back to the car,” said Zelma. “I didn’t realize it was supposed to storm today, how fitting though.”
Ethan assisted Zelma hurriedly back to the car, but the rain started pouring heavily and soaked them both just before they made it inside. Ethan drove slowly and nervously back to Miss Green’s house, the rain so heavy at times he could barely see past the car’s hood. Zelma suggested resuming the story of Mittie at a later time, as she was feeling very tired.
Ethan lay in the antique bed that night disappointed that the story had been so abruptly interrupted. He thought about Horace riding up the long driveway of Flintridge, about what could have happened to Mittie. The storm continued throughout most of the night, the wind moaning loudly, sounding as though it would break through the window glass at any moment.
Chapter 9
Parking his bike in front of Square Deal the next morning, Ethan found that two old men had joined Simon Green on the porch benches.
“I see you made it back alive from Flintridge,” said Simon, chuckling. “I’d of placed money on never hearing tell of you again.”
“What in the hell was he doing at Flintridge?” asked one of the old men sitting on the bench next to Simon. He was a large baldheaded man with a reddened face.
“Oh, he’s working for old Miss Green,” said Simon. “She’s got him running errands and doing chores around the house.”
“Better him than me,” said the other old man on the bench. He had a head full of white hair and was chewing on a plug of tobacco. “I wouldn’t turn my back on that old woman for a second if I was you. The cemetery’s full of her dead husbands, can’t help but wonder how they got there. Oh course I’m not accusing anyone of being a serial killer, never one to gossip.”
“You ought to see if you can get her to write you in her will,” said the man with the baldhead. “You could retire for the rest of your life on a tenth of the money that woman’s got in the bank. They’d have to close the bank down if she decided to take her money out.”
“She’s a pretty nice woman,” said Ethan. “I wasn’t sure how I was going to like her when I first met her, but she’s turned out to be all right.”
“That’s how them serial killers do,” said the man with the head full of white hair. “They act all nice and get you to trusting them just before they knock you in the head and drag you down some steps. Again, I’m not making any accusations.”
“How’s it going, Ethan?” said Cynthia, who had quietly rode her bike up to the porch.
“Oh, hi, Cynthia,” said Ethan, his heart beating faster. “You snuck up on me, but I’m glad you did.”
“You want to go for a bike ride?” she asked.
“That’s exactly what I’d like to do.” He left the three old men behind, forgetting their existence, and followed Cynthia on his bike towards the square.
“Where do you want to ride to?” she asked, peddling faster.
“You’re the expert on Rocky Creek. I just moved here.”
“I guess that was a silly question to ask a town newbie. Have you ever been in a cave? My grandfather owns some land out on highway 31W that has two caves on it. This is cave country, you know, caves everywhere.”
“That would be the most far out thing ever,” said Ethan. “I always wanted to go spelunking.”
“Then it’s settled. We’ll go spelunking. It’s just about two miles north of town here.”
The two left Rocky Creek behind and road north into the surrounding farmland. In a short distance they came upon a two-story octagon-shaped house to their right.
“I’ve never seen a house shaped like that before,” said Ethan. It looks to be really old but it seems to be in great shape.”
“That’s Octagon Hall,” said Cynthia. “It’s supposed to be haunted by Civil War ghosts. It’s amazing that the same family, the Caldwells, still own it after all these years. I’ve always wanted to see inside it but haven’t got the chance yet.”
“Wow, that’s amazing,” said Ethan. “I love historical places like that. There sure are some interesting old houses around here. I guess that’s one good thing about this part of the country. If you just had some mountains it’d be almost perfect.”
“We do have some knobs that kind of look like mountains. And there are a lot of other good things about living here. You just haven’t lived here long enough to discover them yet.”
“The mountains I’m used to could eat these knobs for lunch.”
“Hey, don’t make fun of our knobs,” said Cynthia with a laugh. “We’re proud of them.”
“I guess that was kind of a smart aleck thing to say.”
“I’ll think about forgiving you.”
Th
ey rode for a little piece further and came upon a large dairy barn.
“Here it is,” said Cynthia. “We’ll park our bikes here at the barn and walk back to the caves.”
“Do your grandparents live in that white house over there?” asked Ethan.
“No, they used to until a few years ago, but they bought a house just up the road from me. My uncle lives here now and takes care of the farm. I’m hoping he don’t notice us. I don’t guess it matters if he does, but I’d just as soon not have to explain it.”
“It won’t get you in any trouble, will it?”
“No, I don’t think anybody would care. Besides, I’m not worried about getting in trouble, anyway.”
“You know, I thought you were pretty much a bookworm when I first met you,” said Ethan. “But I’m finding out you’ve got an adventurous side too. You’d love it over where I came from. There’s all kinds of fun places to explore.”
“I’m sure I would love the mountains,” said Cynthia. “I’m a bookworm, but reading so many books makes me want to get out and explore the world, not just read about it.”
“Me and you have got about the same personality, I think,” said Ethan. “I love books and the outdoors. I’m so glad we met.”
“I’m glad we met too.”
Ethan followed eagerly as Cynthia walked across a field of young tobacco plants and climbed over a fence into an untamed field of mostly weeds, the occasional thistle making him wish he’d wore jeans instead of shorts.
“There it is,” said Cynthia, pointing to a group of trees surrounding a very rocky area.
“I can’t wait,” said Ethan. “This’ll be my first time in a cave, and a wild cave at that. It’s not like we’re going to have a tour guide waiting for us.”
“You wouldn’t need a tour guide for this cave, anyway. It’s just a big room.”
They approached the group of trees and walked carefully over the rocky ground until they reached the cave’s entrance.
“I wish we’d of thought and picked up a flashlight before we left town,” said Ethan.
“You don’t really need a flashlight in this cave. There’s enough natural light coming in to see once your eyes get adjusted.”
“What a great place to cool off,” said Ethan. “It feels like it’s got its own air conditioning. I never thought about it, but I guess it would be cooler under ground.”
The pair climbed carefully down the rocks into the depths of the cave.
“This is just like a big theater or a concert hall,” said Ethan. “This would be the perfect place for you to play the piano. The ceiling in here must be close to thirty feet high, and how it slopes down to this area at the bottom makes it perfect for having rows of seats, a big stage at the bottom.”
“You’re right,” said Cynthia. “I’ve often thought that same thing myself. It’s amazing how much we think alike. I would love to someday turn this into a natural theater for music or plays.”
“It’d be perfect. You could have a piano onstage and play your classical music. I bet the acoustics are great.”
“What are some of your favorite classical songs?” asked Cynthia. “You seem to be well versed in the classics, based on our conversation the other day.”
Ethan hoped Cynthia didn’t notice his face flush. “I guess I need to make a confession,” he said, looking down at the rocky ground, not wanting to look in her eyes at the moment. “Miss Green taught me pretty much everything I know about the classics, which ain’t much. You see, her son used to play the piano, and she was telling me about it and playing some of the songs. I guess I was just desperate for you to like me when we first met, so I kind of let on too much.”
“That’s funny,” said Cynthia, laughing. “To think, you liked me enough to stretch the truth a little, makes me feel kind of special. I don’t believe any boy has ever noticed me enough to try and impress me before.”
“I’m glad you see it that way. I was afraid you’d be mad at me.”
“How could I be mad at you for flattering me so much.”
“I’ll tell you a little secret, though:” said Ethan, “I really like the songs Miss Green was playing, and I’d love to hear you play the piano. Maybe you could teach me the classics.”
“I would absolutely love to do that. Oh, I wish there was a piano sitting right here on this stage. You’ve inspired me to one day turn this place into a concert hall.”
“I want to buy the first ticket,” said Ethan.
The two explored the cave and talked about their dreams, before finally making their way back to the barn and retrieving their bikes. They started to ride back towards town, but Ethan asked Cynthia to wait for a minute while he went behind the barn to take a leak. He returned to see Cynthia talking to someone inside a newer black Dodge Charger. It was his mom’s boyfriend, Mike, and some red-haired young woman was sitting in the seat beside him. The vehicle drove away before Ethan could approach it.
“Who was that?” he asked Cynthia.
“Oh, that was the guy who owns the auto shop downtown. I can’t think of his name. He was looking for my uncle, wanting to see an old car he’s got for sale.”
“His name’s Mike Kinsley,” said Ethan. “He’s been seeing my mom.”
“Oh, was that your mom in the car with him? Your mom sure is pretty, if it was. I love her silky red hair.”
“No, my mom’s at work, and she don’t have red hair,” said Ethan, grinning slightly. “Looks like Mike keeps pretty busy while Mom’s away.” He couldn’t wait to mention this to his mom. She’d never want to see that Mike guy again.
That evening Ethan waited for just the right moment to bring up Mike and the mysterious red-haired woman to his mom. He was stretched out on the couch in a t-shirt and shorts, watching a rerun of The Beverly Hillbillies. Sandy was in the kitchen cooking pasta for lasagna. “Mom,” Ethan yelled, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.
“What, Ethan?”
“I thought you said Mike was going to be out of town for a few days.”
“Quit yelling and come in here if you want to talk,” said Sandy.
Ethan walked into the kitchen and sat down at the table.
“Now, what were you asking?”
“I was just saying that I thought you told me Mike was supposed to be out of town.”
“He was supposed to be,” said Sandy, draining water from the cooked pasta into the sink, “but it’s been postponed until next week. Why are you so worried about it all of a sudden?”
“Oh, I’m not really worried about it. I just saw something interesting today, is all, something you might want to know about.”
“Well, you’re acting mysterious and weird,” said Sandy. “If you need to tell me something, let it out.”
Ethan opened his mouth to unfurl his carefully prepared speech but was interrupted by a knock at the front door.
“Knock, knock,” he heard Mike Kinsley say.
“Come on in,” yelled Sandy. “We’re in the kitchen.
Mike walked in the kitchen.
Even better, Ethan thought, he’d expose this creep right here and now. But his face fell when the woman with silky red hair walked in behind Mike.
“Thought y’all would like to meet my sister, April Tunks,” said Mike. “She’s going to be moving back to town from Hendersonville, Tennessee, now that her divorce is final. She kind of surprised me yesterday. We’ve been out today trying to find her a car.”
“Why don’t you just give them all the nasty divorce details while you’re introducing us for the first time,” said April, laughing.
“Wonderful to meet you,” said Sandy. “We’re going to have to get to know each other. I’m new to town and need a girlfriend to go shopping with.”
“Very nice to meet you, too,” said April. “And I love to shop. Maybe us girls can go shopping and actually find a car. Mike drove me around most of the day chasing down classic cars to add to his collection.”
“I did pick up a few leads,�
� said Mike.
“If you say so,” said April.
Ethan’s heart sank as he watched the scene of horror play out before him. It had all been so perfect. Now he’d never get rid of Mike, not with his sister being a new shopping buddy for his mom.
“Ethan was just telling me he saw you today, Mike.” She looked at Ethan, who was looking for a hole to crawl into. “Now what were you about to tell me, Ethan?”
“Oh, nothing, Mom. I need to go to the bathroom, anyway.”
“Well, introduce yourself to April before you take off.”
“Hi,” said Ethan and fled to the bathroom. He sat on the edge of the bathtub with his elbows propped on his knees, his face buried in his hands. Faintly, he could hear his mom apologizing for his behavior and making the excuse that he’d been having a hard time lately. Didn’t she know moving back home would fix most of his problems? Then he thought about Cynthia and realized going back home would mean he’d probably never see her again. Everything was just a big confusing mess.
He felt almost sick to his stomach as he listened to the three of them in the other room laughing and carrying on like they’d known each other for years.
Chapter 10
Zelma Green was playing the piano as Ethan let himself into the kitchen. He followed the music and stood next to her. She stopped playing, looked over at him, and smiled. “Good evening,” she said. “It seems you caught me at it again, just as I had intended for you to do. I always enjoy an audience when I play, something I so rarely have. Clara seems to find my music an annoyance.”
“I enjoy your playing,” said Ethan, distractedly.
“You seem sad today. You’re trying to cover it up, I know, but your eyes give you away, your eyes and your slumped shoulders.”
Tears began to flow from Ethan’s eyes. He turned away, trying to regain his composer. After all, he wasn’t a kid anymore, not since his thirteenth birthday last month. “I’m sorry,” he said, rubbing his eyes dry. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
A Million Doorways Page 10