Unearthly Things

by Michelle Gagnon

  Helen whacked my arm. She was grinning, though. “Just for that, I’m making your costume myself. And you’re wearing it, even if you hate it—”

  The doorbell rang downstairs, cutting her off.

  We stared at each other for a moment. “Guess it’s that time.” I slung my duffel bag over my shoulder.

  Helen still looked worried. “You’re sure it’s safe to go back to their house?”

  I nodded. “I’ve just got to grab my board and wetsuit, and say goodbye to Nicholas. John promised no one else will be there.”

  “Well, be careful.”

  I clasped her in a tight hug. “I’ll miss you.”

  “Me, too,” she said thickly. “Now get off, you’re squishing me.”

  I released her and stepped back.

  Noting my expression, Helen muttered, “Well, you don’t have to be so cheerful about it.” I tried to tamp down my excitement, but my heart felt like it was about to burst through my chest. I practically skipped downstairs, Helen plodding slowly behind me. John was standing on the stoop looking impatient. Motioning to his idling SUV, he said, “Your chariot awaits. We better get moving, there’ll be traffic on the 101.”

  Throwing Helen a final wave, I hurried down the path.

  John wasn't kidding. Helen’s house was less than a mile from the Rochesters’, but at this time of day traffic was heavy. As we inched along, I tried to quell a surge of panic in my chest.

  “Maybe we should go straight to the airport,” I said. “I don’t want to miss the flight. You can ship my surfboard.”

  “Nah, we’ll be fine.” John waved a hand dismissively. “This will only take a minute. Besides, Nicholas will be crushed if you take off without saying goodbye. He’s seriously attached to you.”

  Another pang. He was right, Nicholas would be devastated. I hadn’t seen him since last week; and knowing him, he’d probably blame himself for my departure. I had to at least give him a hug and promise to stay in touch. “All right.”

  John shot me a sideways glance. “I gotta tell you, I’m pretty torn up about it, too.”

  “Really,” I said dryly.

  “Sure. I finally find a surf buddy, and she’s abandoning me.”

  His words brought back that day at the beach, and the weird dreams I’d had afterward. I hesitated, debating; but what did I have to lose at this point? Drawing a deep breath, I asked, “John, how did Eliza die?”

  He stiffened, and a cloud passed over his face. Cautiously, he said, “Wow, that kind of came out of nowhere. Why do you want to know?”

  Shrugging, I said, “Just curious. I assumed she had leukemia or something like that.”

  Avoiding my eyes, John said, “There was an accident.”

  “What kind of accident?” I asked, flashing back to the sensation of slamming into something hard.

  “I wasn’t there. They called school to tell me afterward,” he said curtly. “Eliza was found with a broken neck at the bottom of the attic stairs.”

  I stopped breathing for a few seconds. That’s exactly how it happened in my dream. John was pretending to concentrate on the road, but we were barely moving. His face was twisted with an emotion I couldn’t place. I pressed, “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

  He threw me an angry look. “Why are we talking about this?”

  “Because,” I said, grasping for a reason that would make sense. “I just . . . need to know.”

  The light at the intersection turned red. John shifted to face me. I met his gaze levelly. Finally, he sighed. “I guess there’s no reason not to, since you’re leaving anyway.”

  The light turned green, and we inched across the road. Three more blocks to the house; at this rate it would take a half hour. “So?” I pressed.

  A pause, then he continued, “Eliza wasn’t Nicholas’s twin.”

  “What?” I asked, baffled.

  John looked embarrassed. “My dad hasn’t exactly been . . . well, he’s not faithful. There were a lot of women over the years.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I said. Of course, it wasn’t exactly a huge surprise. And it went a long way toward explaining the constant tension between him and Marion.

  “Yeah, well, one day he showed up with this little girl. He said she was his daughter, and she was going to live with us. Eliza was two at the time, the same age as Nicholas. Marion threw a fit, but Dad made it clear it wasn’t up for discussion.”

  “Wow,” I said, stunned. Even for Richard, that was beyond the pale. No wonder Marion had hated Eliza so much. “Who was her mother?”

  John lifted his shoulders, finally picking up speed as the traffic cleared. “Dad never said. Nicholas was thrilled, of course, and he was so young . . . it didn’t take much to make him think that Eliza had always been there.”

  Images from the dream returned; I could practically feel Marion’s hand gripping my arm. Unconsciously, I rubbed it. “So that’s why none of you talk about her.”

  John laughed sharply. “Yeah, Marion didn’t exactly take to Eliza. She tolerated her, but—”

  His mouth clamped shut.

  “But what?” I asked softly.

  “Nothing.” He glared out the windshield. “Eliza just never got a lot of love in that house. I tried to help her, but then they sent me away. And the next thing I knew, she was dead.”

  He fell silent. I shifted in my seat, half-wishing that I hadn’t asked. As awful and crazy as Marion was, did I really believe she could’ve killed a child?

  Maybe, said a small voice in my head.

  Dread bloomed in my stomach as the iron gates in front of the house yawned wide before us. John pulled in and parked the SUV in front of the garage. I climbed out on wobbly legs.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Not really,” I said with a short laugh. If anything, the house looked even scarier after a few days’ absence. It huddled before me, like a great beast gathering itself to pounce. I bit my lip, trying to get control of my racing heart. All I had to do was duck inside, give Nicholas a quick hug, and leave. Five minutes, max.

  “How about I go in with you?” John offered.

  “Thanks,” I said. “That would be great.”

  The house seemed abnormally silent and still. With a shaky hand, I reached out and turned the knob.

  The hallway was empty. I flashed back to that first night, when I’d followed Alma through this dark passage. It felt like a lifetime ago. But I was different now. Stronger. Squaring my shoulders, I stepped inside. “Let’s go find Nicholas.”

  John closed the door behind us. When he turned around, I knew immediately by his expression that something was off. I felt a flicker of panic. “What’s wrong?”

  He held up both hands and said, “Listen, I swear he just wants to talk . . .”

  My heart started to hammer in my chest. “Who wants to talk?”

  Before he could answer, a familiar voice behind me said, “Welcome back, Janie.”

  John was standing in front of the door, an apologetic expression on his face. Blocking it, I suddenly realized. “You bastard,” I hissed. “Daniel was right about you.” “It’s not like that,” he protested. “I promise, you’ll end up thanking me for this.”

  “I seriously doubt that,” I snorted. Crossing my arms over my chest, I turned to face Richard Rochester.

  He was dressed immaculately in a pinstriped suit. For once, he didn’t have a drink in his hand, and his eyes looked clear. Speaking in a conciliatory tone, he said, “Please, Janie. I just wanted to have a few words before you left.”

  “I have a plane to catch.” The urge to turn and run was almost overpowering, but I didn’t want to give him the pleasure. And I wasn’t sure I could get past John anyway, if he was set on stopping me.

  “I think you’re going to want to hear what I have to say,” Richard said
. “I have a proposition for you. One that benefits all of us.”

  I shook my head angrily. “I don’t care. I’m only here to say goodbye to Nicholas. If he’s not around, I’ll leave now.”

  Richard looked past my shoulder at John.

  I snapped my head back and said, “I can leave, right?”

  John had the nerve to look wounded. “Dad’s telling the truth, Janie. If you agree, he’s willing to let you live with whoever you want, wherever you want. Legally. I’ve seen the papers.”

  “No more lawyers,” Richard chimed in. “Hell, none of us wants to waste money on those leeches if we don’t have to, right?”

  I hesitated. It sounded too good to be true, which meant it probably was. “I’m guessing there’s a catch. What do I have to do?”

  Richard shrugged, looking embarrassed. “I’m afraid you’ve got me at a bit of a disadvantage. Perhaps we should go into the study to discuss—”

  “We talk here,” I interrupted. “Or I leave right now.”

  “Okay.” Richard tucked his hands in his pockets and rocked on the balls of his feet. “Basically, I was forced to take a small loan from your trust to cover some stock transactions.”

  “Yeah, I heard,” I said dryly. “Since when is a quarter million dollars considered ‘small’?”

  Richard’s smile was forced. “Yes, well. Rest assured that if the market hadn’t crashed, your trust would actually have received a substantial increase. But as it was—”

  “You lost my money,” I said. “And you weren’t supposed to take it in the first place.”

  “Listen, Janie,” John said, sounding alarmed. “Maybe—”

  “No.” I cut him off. “I’m not going to just fall in line like the rest of you.” Taking a step forward, I spat, “You don’t get to push me around, Richard. I’m not your wife, or one of your kids. My parents trusted you, and you stole from me. That’s not okay.”

  The friendly mask fell away. Richard glowered at me, clenching his fists. In a low, menacing voice, he warned, “You should watch what you say.”

  But I held my ground. The rage made me feel strong, invincible. “Actually, you should watch what you say,” I retorted. “You need me, remember? I don’t need anything from you anymore. I have the money to drag this out in court. Hell, it might even be fun.”

  He reeled back as if I’d struck him. Behind me, John made a small noise that might have been a laugh.

  Richard visibly composed himself, then said stiffly, “Will you at least look at the agreement?”

  I made a show of checking my watch, then said, “You have three minutes.”

  Richard stared at me for a long moment. Then he turned and stalked out of the room, heading toward the study.

  My entire body felt tense, like a cord drawn tight. John said, “Man. You have a set on you, I’ll give you that.”

  I spun on him. “You lied to me.”

  “I know.” His eyes fell. Kicking at an edge of the carpet, he continued, “But Janie, he said if I didn’t get you to at least consider the offer . . . we’re about to lose the house. Do you want Nicholas to end up living on the street?”

  “It can’t be as bad as that,” I scoffed.

  “Apparently, it is.” John had a look I’d never seen in his eyes before: raw fear. “Dad mortgaged the house to the hilt. If we miss the next payment, we’re out. Napa will be gone, too. They’ll be sold at auction, and we’ll literally have nothing but the clothes on our back.”

  “That doesn’t make sense,” I said, waving a hand at our lush surroundings. “Can’t you just sell all this stuff? It has to be worth a fortune.”

  John barked a laugh. “Only if you consider a couple hundred grand to be a fortune. In San Francisco, that’ll barely get us through a few months.” He stepped closer, a pleading look in his eyes. “Please, Janie. I know how you feel about him—about all of us. But if you could just help out with the next payment, maybe Dad can fix this.”

  I stared at him, dumbfounded. “Wait. He wants more money?”

  John looked uncomfortable. “Just enough to float us a little longer.”

  I shook my head, thinking unbelievable. Not only did they want to be absolved of stealing my money in the first place, now they wanted more of it? This seriously gave new meaning to a sense of entitlement. And I could tell that John didn’t really believe that Richard could salvage the situation. They’d probably blow through the loan in a few months. Would that really solve anything?

  Still, I couldn’t help picturing Nicholas marching soldiers around his toy castle. I didn’t want him to be forced out of the only home he’d ever known, not when he’d lost so much already. Not if I could do something to help.

  “How much money?” I asked, resigned.

  Richard’s voice boomed behind me, filled with forced jollity again. “Not much at all!” He waved a sheath of papers as he approached. “And it says right here that you’ll get it all back, with interest!”

  Reluctantly, I took the papers. There had to be at least twenty-five pages total. Bright yellow tabs marked the spots where I was expected to sign or initial.

  “You’ve been busy,” I noted acerbically.

  “Of course, if you want to look them over with your lawyer, that’s fine,” Richard said. “But I assure you, it’s all legal.”

  Meaning that it’s basically written in a foreign language, I thought with irritation.

  Still, the basics were clear. Flipping through, I saw that Richard was asking for a loan of another two hundred fifty thousand dollars from my trust, at a twelve percent interest rate; I had no idea if that was fair or not, but then, chances were I’d never get a dime back regardless.

  The last section, though, piqued my interest.

  It stated that Richard Rochester was ceding custodial guardianship of Janie Mason to the adult of her choosing, effective immediately.

  A lump rose in my throat. What if we settled this right here and now?

  I could still get on a plane tonight. Kaila’s mom could take over as my guardian. The Rochesters would be able to hold on to their house, for at least a little while longer. And this whole ordeal would be behind me, once and for all. I skimmed the papers again. Richard and John watched silently, the air practically humming with tension. I couldn’t find anything overtly wrong with the document, nothing that gave the Rochesters continued access to my trust, or about any other money changing hands. “Anything in here about signing away my soul?” I finally asked.

  Richard laughed sharply. “We are going to miss your sense of humor, Janie.”

  I snorted. “Right. Listen, this looks fine, but I want my lawyer to go through it before I sign.”

  Richard’s eyes flashed to John. A worried look crossed his face, and his brow furrowed again. “Of course, I completely understand. But we’re on a bit of a deadline here.”

  I sighed. “How much of a deadline?”

  “Well, there’s a payment due tomorrow. I would have asked sooner, but we weren’t entirely certain where you’d gone . . .”

  “Whatever,” I said curtly. “I’ll sign it.” After all, if there was something illegal, I could always claim I’d been forced to comply. And it wouldn’t be a lie—they were effectively blocking the front door.

  “Thank you, Janie.” Richard’s shoulders sagged. “This means so much. I can’t tell you—”

  “What is she doing here?”

  I froze.

  Marion was standing at the base of the stairs. Her Chanel suit was rumpled, her hair mussed, and she was barefoot. I hadn’t seen her look this dispossessed since that night in the hallway.

  “Marion,” Richard said sternly, “Go back to your room.”

  “Not in my house,” Marion hissed, stalking toward me with her fingers spread wide, as if preparing to claw out my eyes. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out y
ou were sneaking in your whores again, Richard?”

  “Mom,” John said, quickly stepping in front of me. “This is Janie. Remember? Janie.”

  “A whore, just like her mother.” Marion’s lips twisted into a sneer as she turned on Richard. “I heard the whispers about how she rejected you. Everyone knew. We all thought it was pathetic.” She tossed her head and continued, “I told you what would happen if you ever brought another one into my home, Richard. I warned you.”

  “Shut up, Marion, and go upstairs!” Richard said, desperately jabbing a finger toward the landing.

  “I’ll kill her, just like—”

  “That’s enough!” he snarled, grabbing hold of her arms. She snarled like an animal, her eyes flashing. Richard shook her hard, once, and she suddenly fell still.

  Almost without realizing it, I’d backed up against the door. My heart hammered in my chest; Marion had brought a dark, manic energy into the hall with her. The hysteria in her voice struck a chord deep inside me. I felt like a child again; I felt what Eliza must have felt, all the time.

  “John,” Richard said tightly, without releasing his grip on Marion. She looked like a trapped bird, flailing helplessly against him. “Please take your mother upstairs and make sure she takes her pills.”

  John didn’t move. “Um, I’m not sure—”

  “Do it!” Richard yelled. “Now!”

  John turned to me. I wasn’t eager to be left alone with Richard, not after the way he’d behaved the other night. But the front door was right there; all I had to do was turn the knob and run if I sensed any danger. And I’d feel a lot better if crazy Marion was gone. “I’ll be fine,” I said, trying to reassure myself as much as him.

  “Okay. I’ll be right back down, then we can go,” he said.

  Marion muttered as he led her away. She threw me a final, filthy look.

  Richard stood stock-still, listening to their retreating footsteps. After a moment, he cleared his throat and said, “I apologize for that, Janie. My wife is not well.”

  “Clearly,” I said, but my voice was shaky.

  “So.” He held out a pen. “Can we finish this?”

  I hesitated. He sounded helpless and frantic. The same way I had in the mental hospital. He hadn’t been willing to help me then, so why should I bail him out now? When it came down to it, I didn’t owe these people anything. Every night under their roof had been hell. Besides, I still wasn’t convinced that things were really that dire. They probably just wanted to maintain their lavish lifestyle. Downsizing might be painful, but they wouldn’t starve. I pictured Marion behind the wheel of a battered Honda. That clinched it. “Sorry, no.”