The Lost Door

by Marc Buhmann

  Who was it?

  We’re not at liberty to say until we’ve located him.

  Fifteen minutes later they were gone.

  A fucking deer. If not for that then this entire thing—this entire tragedy—could have been avoided. And what of the other driver? Where had he gone? Why couldn’t they find him? Surely he wouldn’t abandon his family over this.

  People do strange things when they’re scared, he told himself. People disappear all the time.

  David grabbed Lilly’s warm soft hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

  * * *

  Willem’s father had been missing for nearly two months, and the police had stopped coming by. No one seemed to know where he’d gone after the accident. Secretly he didn’t care though—after the horrible things his father had said he’d just assume he never come back.

  He still thought of that final moment. At some point his mother had come into the kitchen, asking, Did I hear your dad? That’s when she saw him sobbing on the floor. She’d swept him into her arms, cooing and comforting, not knowing what was wrong, until he’d finally told her.

  Maybe you misheard him? she’d said. He wish that were the case, but no matter how much he’d tried to convince himself his mother was right and he was wrong his father’s words kept coming back, stabbing him in the heart. When he’d calmed down enough he’d excused himself and gone upstairs, wrapping himself up in his blanket on his bed, and drifted off to a fitful sleep.

  As the days turned into weeks the family had become increasingly worried. At one point Sam had asked both Willem and Elliott when daddy was coming home. While it was looking more and more likely that their father had run off they didn’t want to tell their six-year-old brother that, so instead they tried to reassure him while steering away from the conversation.

  One evening Willem was upstairs playing with his brothers when he suddenly felt the urge to piss. On his way back from the bathroom he’d heard his mother and Mrs. Shelby’s voice downstairs. Mrs. Shelby was a peacock-like woman they knew from church and the closest friend his mother had. The woman was the type to be acquaintances with everyone yet friend to none just to keep tabs on the parishioners. Can’t have riffraff in the church, after all. That said, she was a God fearing woman who was eager to show her worth when the time came. She was not one to gossip and was the next best thing to confessional.

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do,” his mother was saying. “The police can’t find him, and our savings are drying up…” She sniffed.

  “Have you looked for a job? If not it might be time to start.”

  “I don’t have any experience,” his mother conceded.

  “It’ll be alright, Kathy,” Mrs. Shelby sympathized. “Everything is meant to happen for a reason.”

  Willem’s mother hesitated, then asked, “Why is He punishing me?”

  “I don’t think He is. I think He’s challenging you.” There was a lull, and Willem could picture Mrs. Shelby taking his mother’s hand sympathetically. “How have the boys been?”

  “Confused. Especially Sammy. I don’t know how to talk to him about this.”

  “But you have talked to them…”

  “More or less.”

  “Kathy,” Mrs. Shelby sighed, “I don’t think you’re giving your sons enough credit. Children are smart. You should sit down and really talk with them about it. It could be good for them and you. You need to be honest and alleviate their fears which I’m sure they have. Love is the foundation of family.”

  “You think so?”

  “I know so. They’re children.”

  “That still doesn’t help with money. I have enough for one final mortgage payment and then, after that, we’re out. How am I supposed to support them?”

  “I’ve heard rumblings…”

  I’ll bet you have, thought Willem.

  “Do you know Mr. Robinson?” asked Mrs. Shelby.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “He owns Manny’s Diner. Nice man. Fair. I know one of the staff is going to be leaving soon, so let me talk to him. Would that help?”

  “Oh yes! Yes! Thank you, Nancy! That would be wonderful!”

  “Don’t mention it.” There was a moment of hesitation, then, “Kathy… have the police offered any ideas of what happened to your husband?”

  “No. Nothing but speculation.”

  “I see. I don’t mean to gossip—”

  “Do you know something?” his mother asked.

  “Nothing definitive, which is why I hesitate to say anything anyway.”

  “Is he alive?”

  “I don’t know, and that’s the God honest truth. All I do know is what I heard, and what I heard was that, well, when this person last saw him he’d been roughed up.”

  “Roughed up?”

  “He got into a fight. Managed to get kicked out of The Fat Trout is what I heard.”

  “By who?”

  “I don’t like to gossip, you know that, but this seemed like something you should know.”

  “Do the police know?”

  Willem tuned out. His father had been in a fight? Served him right as far as he was concerned. Willem felt exposed on the stairs and headed back to the bedroom, the urge to pee gone.

  “Get lost?” Elliott asked.

  “No.”

  Elliott looked up, the smile falling when he saw Willem. “You okay?”

  Sam looked back, big eyes wonting.

  “I was just listening to mom and Mrs. Shelby.”

  “You shouldn’t listen in on other peoples—”

  “It was about dad,” he cut Elliott off.

  “What about him?” Elliott said slowly.

  Willem looked at Sam again. Should he say anything in front of his baby brother? But then the words of Mrs. Shelby came back, about children being smarter than they were given credit for. “I guess dad got into a fight the night he disappeared. Even got kicked out of a bar.”

  Elliott shrugged. “So? Doesn’t explain what happened to him.”

  “Do you think whoever beat up dad could have, you know…”

  “Killed him?” Sam said.

  “I’m sure the cops would know about it,” Elliott cut in, “so I doubt it.”

  “But then where is he? Why can’t they find him?” He hadn’t realized his mother was having such a difficult time. He was still happy his father was gone—the tension he’d been feeling had eased since his disappearance—but he was starting to wonder if the family was better off without him. His father was the sole moneymaker of the family. He hadn’t realized the adult world was so much more complicated. A mortgage? He had no idea what that was, but he knew it had something to do with the house.

  “I don’t know.” Elliott’s soft demur hardened. “Now come on. Let’s keep playing.”

  Willem sat down and picked up some army toys but was no longer in the mood. His thoughts were on his mother and father. He remembered picnics, flying kites, swimming… all the things a picture perfect family did. And then the way his father treated him had changed. He couldn’t remember exactly when, but he knew it had been gradual.

  They played quietly until there was a knock on the door. Their mother opened it and peeked in. “How’s it going?”

  “Fine,” Elliott said lightly. “Sammy here is about to infiltrate my army.”

  “Ooh,” she emphasized with just the right amount of motherly love. Sammy looked over with a smile. “Aren’t you my brave little captain?”

  “I’m a soldier, mom!”

  “My brave little soldier, then.” She squatted next to him and ruffled his hair.

  “Is Mrs. Shelby gone?” Elliott asked.

  “She is. She just left.”

  Elliott stood and went to the door.

  “Hey!” Sam cried. “You can’t just leave in the middle of a battle.”

  Elliott turned with a smile. “Consider this my waving the white flag. You won fair and square.”

  “Were you staying up here while she w
as here?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “Yeah.”

  “That wasn’t necessary.”

  “I know,” he said and disappeared. A few seconds later his footfalls descended the stairs.

  She turned her attention to Willem. “So is Sammy beating you, too?”

  “Kind of.”

  “Kind of?”

  “If he’s not careful I’m going to kick his ass,” Sam proudly proclaimed.

  “Sam!” Their mother feigned shock, trying hard not to laugh. “Where on earth did you hear that?”

  “Elliott.”

  “I’m not surprised,” she said light heartedly and stood. “Fifteen minutes to finish the war and then its bedtime, okay?”

  When she was at the door Willem asked cautiously, “Is—is every alright?”

  A look of surprise crossed her face. “Yes. Of course it is. Why do you ask?”

  He shrugged and looked down. “Just curious.”

  “Uh-huh.” She didn’t believe him, he could tell, but what was he supposed to say?

  “Fifteen minutes then it’s bed.”

  As he listened to her walk down the stairs he wondered why she had lied to him. Was it because she didn’t think he would understand, or was it because Sam was in the room? He didn’t know, but he felt a pang of sadness knowing she’d lied to him. She’d always told him it was best to tell the truth, so why was she doing the opposite? He decided he’d talk to Elliott about it later when Sam wasn’t around.

  “Alright Sam,” he said. “Time for me to beat you.”

  “Never!” Sam cried and knocked over one of Willem’s army men with his own. Willem laughed.

  * * *

  Dead!

  David still couldn’t believe it. He’d been visited by the River Bend sheriff the other day while at work, inquiring about Harold and Joan Shaw. He’d had to return to work, hated to do it—the thought of leaving Lilly alone was unbearable—but what little savings remained had dried up. Keeping focus had been a challenge, but it was something he had to do.

  “Is there someplace we can speak in private?”

  Why were the police interested in his in-laws? “Sure,” he’d said, and guided him to a small conference room.

  Once he’d shut the door the sheriff had delivered the bad news. “I’m sorry to tell you this, Mr. Rottingham, but they were found dead in their home this morning.”

  He’d felt sucker punched. “Dead? How?”

  “We’re still investigating, but…” He paused, seemed unsure of how to proceed. “Someone was involved in their deaths.”

  “Murdered?”

  The sheriff nodded. “We’ve never had a murder in River Bend.”

  David had sank into a seat. Harold and Joan? They were the nicest people in the world! Who would want to harm them?

  After a fifteen minute conversation the sheriff thanked him for his help and let himself out.

  First Lilly, now her parents. What else could happen?

  He’d left work and gone immediately to the hospital. Whether or not Lilly could hear him he owed it to her to tell her the news. They were her parents for God’s sake. Telling her had been more difficult than he’d anticipated, but he finally had been able to get the words out. Even though she showed no reaction he’d felt a weight lift.

  The sheriff made it official three days later. Murder in River Bend! screamed the newspaper headline. The police were following every lead, but at this point still had no suspects.

  His mind was still reeling from the news as he walked into the small waiting area of the hospital. It had been an exceptionally long day coordinating the Shaw’s funeral, and he needed a caffeine boost before visiting Lilly. An overweight woman in her sixties was knitting in a chair, her brown nylon socks clumped around her ankles. Her concentration never wavered. Another woman, younger and prettier, was pouring herself a cup of coffee.

  As David stepped up behind her she turned and bumped into him. She let out a short “Oh!” and dropped the paper cup in hand, the dark liquid splashing to the tiled floor. The knitter looked at them over her too thick glasses, then went back to work.

  “I’m sorry,” David said.

  “No, it’s…” The woman touched her face in embarrassment. “You just startled me is all.” She turned and grabbed some napkins.

  “Let me.”

  “No, really, I made the mess.”

  “But I startled you,” he said pleasantly. She hesitated then handed the napkins over with a smile.

  David cleaned up the spill as the woman poured another coffee. “How do you take it?”

  David glanced up, saw she was looking at him expectantly. “Two sugars.” He finished cleaning, stood, tossed the napkins, and accepted the coffee when it was offered. “Thank you.” He extended his hand. “I’m David.”

  She politely accepted it. “And I’m Abigail.”

  The silence was uncomfortable, neither sure what to say, so David just held up the coffee and said, “Thanks.”

  She nodded—you’re welcome—and he turned away, walking down a hallway. He heard footsteps behind him, looked back, saw she was following. He paused. “You visiting someone?”

  She caught up to him and David met her stride. “Yes. My husband. You?”

  “My wife.”

  “Is she alright?”

  “I hope so. The doctors aren’t sure. What about your husband?”

  “He’s… not doing well.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  He decided it best to steer clear of an uncomfortable conversation and instead asked, “Do you live in town? I don’t think I’ve seen you before. Not that River Bend is all that small,” he finished with a half-hearted chuckle.

  Her smile was sad. “We do but only just recently. My husband got a job at the mill a few months ago,” she said with a sniff. “I told him to be careful. I told him it was dangerous, but he wouldn’t listen to me, said it was perfectly fine, that no company would intentionally put their employees in harm’s way. And then this…”

  As if on cue Abigail stopped and pointed through an open door. David looked in and saw a bandaged body lying in a bed, the face three quarters covered, the remaining skin raw.

  “What happened?”

  Abigail led him in. She moved to the other side of the bed and pushed a strand of hair from her husband’s eye. “He was working with a splitter. They’re still not exactly sure, but somehow the log was ejected from the machine and hit him in the face, knocked him out instantly. A fire broke out and, well, you see… They said they’re still looking into it but I don’t believe it. How long does it take to figure something like this out?”

  Sometimes never, he wanted to say. The police still couldn’t find the man who’d crashed into Lilly and him. He hadn’t returned home, his family swore he hadn’t contacted them. The police thought he might have fallen in the Fox River and drowned, but even after an exhaustive search they’d come up empty.

  “David?”

  “Hmm?” He looked up. She was staring at him expectantly.

  “Your wife?”

  “My wife…” he exhaled. “Car accident.”

  “Bad?”

  “Pretty bad. She’s been in a coma for over a month.” He had nothing left to say and wanted to get back to Lilly, so he politely excused himself. “Well, it was nice meeting you, Abigail, but I really should get going.”

  “Oh. Okay. Well, it was nice to meet you.”

  “You too. And I hope your husband pulls through.” He was about to turn, then said as an afterthought, “I’m sure he will.” With that he left the small and lonely room.

  He was deep in thought walking on autopilot back to Lilly’s room when a soft voice coming from his wife’s room brought him back to reality. He didn’t recognize the voice, and when he entered a man in a white suit, pressed black button down shirt, and radiant red tie stood at the side of his wife’s bed. He was leaning over and speaking quietly into her ear, arms at his sides. David was suddenly ne
rvous, an instinct to protect his wife from an unknown predator.

  “Excuse me?” he said approaching the bed. “Can I help you?”

  The man cocked his head and gave a tight smile. He erected himself fluidly. “Hello.”

  “Hello,” David responded cautiously.

  The man’s smile never wavered, just watched David from the opposite side of the bed, head swiveling as David came to the opposite side of the bed.

  When the stranger said nothing David asked, “Is there something I can do for you?”

  “I was just visiting your beautiful wife, Mr. Rottingham.”

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t think we’ve met.”

  “We haven’t, but your wife and I are old friends. We knew each other as children.”

  “And how did you know she was here?”

  “The papers. I would have been here sooner, but work prevented it.” He glanced at her, touched her hand. “We were having the loveliest conversation.”

  His expression softened with hope. “She… has she spoken?”

  “Oh yes. In fact, she’s speaking right now.”

  Hope dissolved to disappointment. This man, whoever he was, was obviously not well. “I think you should be going, Mr…?”

  The man glided around the bed, offering his hand. “DeMarcus.”

  David didn’t accept his hand, so the stranger dropped it back to his side, seemingly unfazed by the rejection.

  “Why are you here?”

  “To visit is all.”

  David didn’t buy that he was just here to visit, didn’t get that vibe. There was a malicious lust in his eye. He’d have to let the staff know that under no circumstance was Lilly to receive any visitors without his approval. “I think you should be going.”

  “Very well, Mr. Rottingham. But before I go, what’s your wife’s prognosis?”

  “They haven’t given one.”

  “I see. Good day.” DeMarcus headed for the door then stopped and turned. Still smiling he said, “I look forward to seeing you again, Mr. Rottingham,” and breezed out the door.

  A shiver went down his spine as David glanced at Lilly—she seemed unmolested. He wanted to know who this stranger was that was in his wife’s room. He walked out but DeMarcus was nowhere to be seen. David hurried to the nurse’s station where a frumpy woman was reading a magazine.