The Lost Door

by Marc Buhmann

  “Just you and Billy?”

  Emily inspected the chicken on her fork. “Yep.”

  “So… Billy… He seems—”

  Like a good-for-nothing charlatan.

  “—nice. Where did you meet him?”

  “School.”

  Claire could sense Emily closing up, not wanting to talk about it. Still, she needed to connect, had to push through. “How long have you been dating?”

  “We’re not dating. We’re just friends.”

  “Okay. How long have you two been friends?” Claire tried to say it in a teasing way, dragging out the word. Emily gave her an “are you serious?” glance.

  “A while. Look, mom, I know what you’re trying to do. I appreciate it, but it’s really not necessary.”

  “What?”

  “This!” Her hand flip-flopped between them. “I know your trying, but I’m just not ready. Not yet.”

  “You should trust me. I want you to trust me.”

  “I know I should, and I will. But not yet.”

  This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Daughters were supposed to be able to trust their mothers, not be evasive. “I’m just… concerned. You’re hanging out with a strange boy I don’t know. I’m just—”

  “Parenting. I get it. You’ve raised me to be smart and make the right decisions. I’m a big girl, mom. I can take care of myself.”

  They ate in silence, their silverware clinking on the ceramic plates. It was then Claire made a decision. If Emily didn’t want to share her life with her fine, but she was going to abide by her rules.

  “What can you tell me about him? What class did you meet him in? What do you do together? Who—”

  “Mom! Knock it off.”

  “You won’t see that boy again. Understood? Not until I meet him.”

  “You’re being unreasonable!”

  “You’re seventeen, Emily, and I’m your mother. I’ve let you be your own person for too long, not interfering in your life, but no more. No… I’m not being unreasonable.”

  Emily slammed her fist on the table, the dishes vibrating. She stood and stormed for the door.

  “Where are you going?” Claire demanded.

  “Out.”

  Claire stood and followed. “No you’re not. Until further notice you’re grounded.”

  Emily whirled, jabbed a finger at her mother. “Where is this coming from? How dare you make demands of me!”

  “This is my house, so it’s my rules.”

  Emily’s face turned red. She retreated for the door, opened it.

  “Get back here!”

  “No!”

  Claire slammed the door closed before Emily could leave.

  “Get out of my way!” Emily cried. Claire just glared. She could see the muscles in Emily’s jaw clench. “Fuck you, mom!”

  “What is going on with you? It’s like you’re not even my little girl anymore.”

  “Little girl? Dad would never have treated me this way!”

  “How would you know? Your dad left us when you were two!”

  “I wish it had been you!”

  Claire slapped Emily across the cheek. Hard.

  What just happened? She’d never hit Emily before, not even a spank.

  Emily turned toward her cupping her reddening cheek, tears glistening at the corner of her eyes. “Emily, I…”

  Emily pushed past Claire and yanked the door open. “I hate you,” she whispered as she breezed past.

  “Emily, please wait.”

  Claire stopped herself from following knowing the damage was done. No matter what she said or did now would only exacerbate the problem.

  She stood there in the night chill long after Emily had disappeared down the street. What had happened to Emily? It was as if her little girl was becoming someone else.

  * * *

  DeMarcus sat in the dark backseat of his idling car. After his meeting with David yesterday he couldn’t get the words he’d uttered out of his mind. How could she be dead when he could sense her? No… she was hiding here somewhere. He just needed to find her.

  Yet he couldn’t shake the feeling David had been telling the truth. He could see the hurt and pain on the old man’s face, so he’d taken a trip to Whispering Pines Cemetery today. It had taken some time, but with the help of Paul he finally found the headstone.

  He couldn’t wrap his head around it. If Lilly was dead then he shouldn’t be able to sense her. How was it possible? He seethed with confusion and anger. Was it possible there was more to the the excommunication than was known?

  DeMarcus instructed Paul where to drive. He focused his senses following the dim beacon that was Lilly and found David coming out of Wood Court Homes, which looked to be a community home of some type. Maybe he was visiting someone from his past, or maybe…

  He told Paul to stop. When David had driven away DeMarcus went into the building, the lobby clean and inviting. Several elderly people sat on what looked to be comfortable chairs talking quietly amongst themselves. A middle aged woman was working on a computer. She looked like she worked her.

  “Excuse me,” he said. The woman looked up, her forming smile faltering.

  “Can I help you?”

  “I’m looking for Lilly Rottingham. I was told she was here.”

  “Lilly…” she looked confused, turned to the computer and typed on the keyboard. “I’m sorry sir, but there’s no one here by that name.”

  “Are you sure? Could you check again? Maybe you spelled it wrong.”

  She turned back, tried different variations, shook her head. “I’m not finding a Lilly here. Are you sure you have the right place?”

  He focused again and sensed Lilly’s presence dimming. Annoyed, he said, “Perhaps you’re right,” and left. Once back in the car they resumed their driving. He spotted David again, this time in Manny’s Diner. But then he sensed something else—very faint—as if Lilly’s presence was in two locations. Curiouser and curiouser. It took some time, most of the afternoon driving in circles and up and down streets, until he was confident he’d found the source of the second beacon. He had Paul park a few houses down and there they sat, waiting.

  The sun had set and he was becoming anxious, was ready to go up to the house and investigate, when the door was flung open and a young girl stormed out. He didn’t understand, why would Lilly’s essence be coming from here? And then an older woman came out and somehow he knew instantly it was that damn neighbor child Lilly and her husband had latched onto. What was her name? It didn’t matter. That was who he was being drawn to; that was where he was sensing Lilly.

  This woman and David.

  He needed to mull this over, figure out why he was sensing Lilly coming from two people. If she was in fact dead she should have transcended back to Turmoore. Having her here…

  “Let’s go,” he said to Paul. “I need to think this through.”

  “Anywhere in particular?”

  DeMarcus considered the question. They had found the place Patrick had talked about, the communal place for socializing. He’d enjoyed the seediness of it; the underbelly was exquisite. “That place we went to. What did you call it? A bar? We don’t have places like that where I come from, and I quite enjoyed it.”

  “The Thirsty Whale it is,” Paul said, put the car in drive, and drove off.

  six

  Willem stood in the mess that was his bedroom. He’d pulled everything out of his closet, dumped packed away boxes out on the bed, emptied drawers, looking for the key his brother had sent him. Every other room in his house looked exactly the same, as if a tornado had blown through.

  He sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed his tired eyes. He’d been at this all night, and it would probably take twice as long to put everything back, a prospect he was dreading. He again found himself wondering why he was so hell-bent on finding something his brother had sent him years ago. Was it worth getting this worked up over something he hadn’t remembered existed twenty-four hours ago?

/>   He stood, stretched his back, and sauntered to the kitchen. A breakfast break might do him some good. He pulled open the fridge and was greeted with barren shelves. Shit. The cupboards weren’t any better, and there was no coffee. Looked like he was going to Manny’s. It was just past eleven according to his watch. Thankfully the diner served breakfast all day.

  After a quick shower he filled the bird feeder with fresh seed—couldn’t let the little guys starve to death after all—hopped in his car and headed to town. As he drove his mind wandered to Elliott and why he had sent him a key. That made little sense to him. Perhaps the letter that had come with it would shed some light on it.

  The willow tree stood majestically in the distance as he crossed Willow Creek Bridge giving him pause. His foot relaxed off the accelerator, and he pulled onto the shoulder as he slowed. He stared out the window at the tree, its thin branches swaying gently in the breeze.

  Something from his childhood…

  Willem put the car in park, got out, looked at the bridge. In the last week he’d been drawn to this place twice—first by a boy who was fishing, and now this moment. He felt something pull at him, something he couldn’t explain. His gaze fell upon the tree again.

  The tree. That’s what he was being pulled to, but why? The tree had been there since he was a boy, and he had some vague recollection of it, but other than that the tree held no special meaning. He wanted to turn away, to just go get his breakfast, but he knew that it was useless until he investigated. Best to quench the insatiable urge and be done with it. Two minutes later he stood in the spongy moss field that surrounded the tree. The shadow beneath looked safe and welcoming; nothing appeared out of the ordinary, and nothing from his past came back. He parted the branches and entered.

  The sensation he’d felt dissipated—not fully, but now it was just a dull throb in the back of his mind. He circled the tree taking it in. Nothing out of the ordinary. A squirrel had made a nest in one of the branches, though at the moment it was vacant. The base of the trunk was surrounded by rocks as if to weigh the tree down and prevent it from falling in a storm. Willem looked at the creek ten feet away trickling by.

  Waste of time, coming here like this.

  Yet while the drawing had subsided he felt a connection to Elliott and Sam. This place held a special meaning for him, or had in the past. Why couldn’t he remember spending time here?

  Because you’ve chosen to forget, a voice whispered.

  No. If it was important he would have remembered.

  The voice stayed silent as if challenging him.

  He was tired and hungry, and all he wanted was some warm food and then a warm bed. He’d figure it out later.

  He left the security of the willow and headed back to the car, a tiny voice following on the breeze. You have to remember! Please remember, Willem. Please!

  * * *

  It was time to go retrieve the necklace he’d been unable to collect two days prior. David dreaded having to enter his old home again knowing the poison beneath, but Lilly had insinuated it was necessary. If she said he needed it then by God he was going to get it. After that he needed to pay Claire a visit.

  Claire. His heart warmed thinking of the little girl he once considered the daughter they’d never had. The smile, the dimples, the happy go lucky attitude of that adorable little girl. Yet something had happened over the years, something he couldn’t quite figure out. Lilly had shown him what had become of her and she looked… troubled. Like something was eating away at her inside.

  He wasn’t sure how he’d approach her, wondering if she’d even remember him after all this time. He wasn’t even sure what he was supposed to do with her but, like most of what was happening these last few weeks, it was a leap of faith.

  David grabbed the hotel key off dresser and put on a light jacket. It looked nice out, but this time of year could be unpredictable. He opened the door and was taken aback by DeMarcus, poised ready to knock. Behind him was a man in a red trucker cap.

  “Hello, David,” he said and pushed his way past. The man in the cap guided David away from the door and closed it. “So have you thought about our conversation from the other day?”

  David looked between the two men nervously, finally settling on DeMarcus. “Not particularly.”

  “I’m sure Lilly wouldn’t want me hurting you but I will if that’s what it comes down to.” He looked around the room, said, “Do you hear me Lilly? Come out or your sweet sweet husband will suffer the repercussions of your defiance.”

  “I’ve told you she’s dead.”

  DeMarcus wagged his finger at David. “I went to the cemetery as you suggested and did see the headstone. A well-played ruse if I do say so, but if she’s truly gone then why can I still sense her? She’s here, close by. I can sense it.”

  “You’re mistaken.”

  “And you’re naive, unless…” A quirky expression crossed DeMarcus’ face, one that showed confused amusement. “She made you forget.”

  “You’re talking nonsense. Please leave,” David’s voice quivered.

  DeMarcus approached David and reached out to him. He stepped back and bumped into DeMarcus’ friend who grabbed both his frail arms.

  “What are you doing? Don’t…”

  DeMarcus laid his hand on the side of David’s perspiring face. “Shh… Let me see.” DeMarcus’ eyes bore into his, the grin drooping as his eyes danced. Then the corner of his lip curled, and David felt as if a levee in his brain buckled. Memories long hidden washed over him in a torrential onslaught. His brain felt beaten.

  “Nooo,” he moaned and grabbed at his temples as DeMarcus stepped away. “Stop it, please! Take it back!”

  But DeMarcus just stood and stared as David fell back onto the bed, images drowning him, suffocating him. It was too much for him and he began to to feel his mind shutting down.

  “Lilly,” he moaned. “Why?”

  “Why indeed?” DeMarcus asked.

  David felt his body seize. The last thing he saw was DeMarcus leaning in with his shit eating grin.

  * * *

  “Where are you going?” Claire asked as Emily breezed past without saying a word.

  Emily was at the front door, jacket in hand. “Out.”

  “Not until I say so,” Claire said.

  Emily rolled her eyes.

  “I’m serious.” Emily stared at her as if challenging. “Come here. Sit down for a minute.”

  She badly wanted a splash of booze to take the edge off.

  “What?” Emily asked as she leaned against the door frame.

  Claire pursed her lips. “I’d like to talk about last night.”

  Just a sip to make this easier.

  “Are you going to hit me again?”

  The words were like a slap. “I deserve that.” She sighed. “Do you want to know what really happened to your father?”

  “He left you. What more is there?”

  Whiskey. Vodka. Anything.

  “Yes, but its how he left me. Us.” Claire gestured to the other chair. “Please. Sit.”

  Emily did. “Can we make this quick?”

  “Billy can wait.”

  Emily looked at her phone then leaned back in her chair, pouting.

  “When I was young my parents moved a lot. My dad was in the military and every few years he’d be transferred someplace new. Except when we moved here. Here we stayed twice as long as usual. That is part of the reason when we had you we moved to River Bend—it felt like home.

  “My parents weren’t around much… even though I was young I still knew enough that they were having trouble. Because of that I spent a lot of time at the neighbor’s house, a nice couple who couldn’t have their own children. I had a fantastic bond with them, a connection, until one day my parents packed up and moved again. That was the one and only time I ever had a strong connection. Until I met your father, of course.

  “When I was a senior in high school I went with a friend to a college party. It was my first ti
me drinking alcohol and I was stupid. My friend ditched me after hooking up with a guy and I was left to fend for myself.

  “I woke the next morning in the bed of a stranger. I was mortified and disgusted with myself, but when I realized nothing had happened, and the guy whose bed I was in was sleeping in a chair on the other side of the room…” She shrugged. “When I tried to sneak out…” The memory brought a smile to her lips, then a chuckle. “I tripped and landed face first in his lap.”

  She could tell Emily was loosening up a little, that she wasn’t as mad.

  Claire continued. “Our friendship blossomed into a romance. Your father was about to graduate from college, me from high school, and it was about that time that my parents told me they were moving again. It was the perfect excuse to stay put and move in with him.

  “We rented a small apartment after graduation and got married a few months later. It wasn’t anything fancy—just us and witnesses in the courthouse. I became pregnant with you early on and played the good little housewife and stay-at-home mom. When you were born I thought things couldn’t get any better. I had a loving husband, a beautiful daughter, and a roof over our heads.

  “But then your father started working later and later, and flew out of town for business more and more which allowed us to save enough to buy a house. Since he was always gone he let me find a place. River Bend always felt like home—probably because of those nice neighbors—so I decided that’s where I wanted to raise you. Your father seemed fine with the idea so we bought this place.”

  The next part was harder to talk about. While the wounds had calloused they still brought a deep throb of resentment.

  “I’m not sure when you father’s infidelities began,” Claire said. “But I’m sure they’d gone on for a year or more.

  “Earlier in the day we were at a friend’s birthday party in Deerbrook. I can’t remember exactly how I found out that he had cheated on me—it’s a blur at this point—but the drinks I had were enough for me to confront him about it.

  “We were driving home—you were in the backseat looking at a picture book if I recall— and I asked him outright who the woman was. He played dumb of course which infuriated me more so I lashed out. Stupid in hindsight, attacking someone who’s behind the wheel.” Not the hard part. “He lost control of the car and it flipped.”