Winter Wake

by Rick Hautala

  A little after noontime, Bri burst into the kitchen, her cheeks glowing red, her eyes wide with excitement. Julia was at the kitchen sink, washing the paint from her brush.

  “Well, don’t you look like the healthy one,” Julia said. “I hope you’re invigorated enough to get that room of yours straightened up.” She tore off several paper towels and wiped the paintbrush across them.

  “I finally met her,” Bri said excitedly as she shrugged off her jacket and hung it on the wooden peg beside the door.

  “Who?”

  “Audrey … Her name’s Audrey Church” Bri was bouncing with excitement. “Remember that girl I said was on the beach last Sunday?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “We spent most of the morning together.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Just talking and stuff.”

  “That’s nice. Is this the same girl who was hanging around outside the house last night?” Julia asked.

  “No — no. That wasn’t her,” Bri replied. “I was wrong about that.”

  She knew that wasn’t really true. Audrey’s denial had seemed thin at best, but she didn’t want her mother ruining this friendship as it was starting. “Audrey’s cool.”

  “I’m sure she is,” Julia said.

  She finished wiping the brush and tossed the used paper towels into the wastebasket. After placing her paintbrush on the edge of the counter, she asked Bri, “What would you like for lunch? Soup and grilled cheese sound okay?”

  Julia went to the refrigerator and took out the sliced cheese.

  “The soup’s in the cupboard. You want to start heating it up while I get the sandwiches going?”

  “Don’t want to, but I will,” Bri said, laughing. She got the soup — her favorite: Campbell’s minestrone — and snapped it under the electric can opener. As she poured the contents into a pan and put the pan on the stove, she was thinking about Audrey and wondering why she would spend so much time out in the cold on the beach.

  Once lunch was ready, Julia called John and Frank to the table, but this lunch — like every other meal so far was frosty — was devoid of any content. Bri didn’t bother to mention Audrey to her father or grandfather. Frank bitched about the problems he’d been having with the cable reception while John complained about the poor quality of the wallpaper glue he was using. Julia ate her soup and sandwich in silence, wishing to God everyone would keep their complaints to themselves.

  After lunch, while Bri and Julia were clearing the table, Bri casually mentioned that she was planning on taking another walk down to Indian Point.

  “Oh no, you’re not,” Julia said firmly, pointing at her with the sponge she was using to wipe the table. “You told me this morning you’d get the rest of those boxes in your room unpacked, and you’re not taking one step outside of this house until you do.”

  “But, Mom ... “

  “But Mom nothing …That’s the last word on it until it’s done.”

  So Bri spent the bulk of the afternoon in her room scowling and throwing things into bureau drawers, onto closet shelves, and under the bed. She had some rock music tuned up loud to irritate her mother.

  Her bedroom windows looked out over the street toward Indian Point, and several times Bri stopped her mad dash to empty the boxes and knelt on the floor, elbows resting on the windowsill, and looked out at the granite-bound point. Once or twice she thought she detected motion that might have been Audrey, scrambling around on the rocks, but it was too far away to tell for sure.

  She was finished by three o’clock, and after flattening all of the boxes — John said he wanted to save them in the rafters of the garage in case they ended up moving again soon — Bri raced downstairs.

  “All done,” she hollered as she ran into the living room.

  Even with the living room furniture pushed aside, she couldn’t believe how different the room looked now that her parents had finished with it. The walls looked alive, not drab like some dusty room out of the last century, and even without the curtains up, the trimwork around the windows looked brand-new.

  “Could always use another hand,” John said, looking down at her from his perch on the stepladder as he wrestled a glued piece of wallpaper into place.

  Bri smiled and shrugged. “Actually, I was kind of thinking I’d head back out to the point. You’ve been telling me all along that fresh air was one of the bennies of living here.”

  “Not when there’s work to be done,” Julia said, shaking her head.

  “Come on, Mom. I want see if I can find Audrey.”

  “Who’s Audrey?” John asked. He had turned back to his work, but now he lost his grip on the edge of paper. As it started to slide away from him, he made a grab for it and almost ended up doing a half-gainer off the ladder. He managed to snag the paper and regain his balance without mishap.

  “She’s the girl I met today,” Bri said casually. “Audrey Church. You know her or her family?”

  John cast a quick look at Julia, but she had already heard it all and was concentrating instead on painting the trimwork.

  “The last name doesn’t sound familiar,” John said, frowning. “They must be new.”

  Bri shrugged. “She didn’t say one way or another. Can I go now, Mom? Please …?”

  Julia gave a loud huff, the breath stirring the hair hanging over her forehead. “Go on. Get out of here,” she said, and that was all Bri needed. She pulled her jacket on in the kitchen and was out the door before Julia could catch her breath and tell her to be home before — not after — dark.

  But Bri’s excitement soon faded.

  She followed the twisting trails through the scrub growth, clambered over the rocks, and walked the length of Sandy Beach three or four times, but there was no sign of Audrey anywhere. Feeling sad for herself, and thinking that Audrey had no interest in being her friend after all, Bri wanted to cry. But in spite of the cold, she didn’t give up all afternoon. Finally, as the sun started lowering in the west, she turned and headed back to the house, wondering if this morning had been not just her first, but maybe her last chance to talk with Audrey Church.

  SIX

  A Certain Slant of Light

  I

  “Bri can take you down to Sandy Beach and show you the ocean anytime,” John said. “And besides, that’s what the tourists come to Maine to see. I can show you parts of this island the tourists never get to see. Come on.”

  Sunday morning had dawned, like the day before, bright and clear. Frank, as usual, had gone to church at nine, so Julia didn’t feel as if she was shirking her duty when she, John, and Bri took off for a pre-lunch stroll.

  “Shouldn’t we finish up the living room today?” Julia asked.

  “Come on. You’ve been complaining all week about how uptight I am. So let’s unwind. Right up here’s where we used to play cowboys and Indians all the time.”

  “If this is going to be a nonstop nostalgia trip, I’d just as soon you hooked up with Randy so the two of you could go at it,” Julia said. She halted for a moment but let him tug her arm so she’d follow along.

  They had crossed the road behind the house and were trudging across a field, heading toward a fairly steep incline, which John had informed them was called Bald Hill. The crest of the hill was thickly forested with pine and hemlock, so Bri wondered aloud how it had come to be called “bald.”

  “Maybe back in the old days there weren’t as many trees,” Julia offered.

  “Actually, back when my father was a kid, most of the woods in the middle of the island were burned flat. Luckily, no homes burned. But the lobstermen say this hill looks like a bald man’s head from out in the bay.”

  “Local color galore,” Julia whispered, rolling her eyes.

  She was keeping her steps high so the knee-high grass wouldn’t trip her up. Summer’s grass was mostly dead and yellow; dying weeds were browned and bent over everywhere. Milkweed pods had burst open, and their white fluffs were drifting lazily on the breeze. A few cricket
s not yet killed off by the frosty nights chirred in the deep grass, but they were the last remnant of summer. There was no doubt the hand of autumn had touched the woods and fields.

  Bri, who was dragging several paces behind them, kept stopping and looking back down the hill toward the ocean. From this high up, she had a clear view of Indian Point and part of the beach. In the distance, the skyline of Portland was clear-cut against the western sky. In all, the view was gorgeous, but all Bri could wonder was, Is Audrey walking around down there now … maybe looking for me?

  “That’s called the Hook Road over there,” John said, pausing and pointing to the left. “Bri!” He waited for her to catch up with them. “Come winter, I’ll take you out to Larson’s Pond for some ice skating. Even if there’s a heavy snow, the wind off the ocean usually blows it clean as a whistle. You can go for a mile or more.”

  “Sounds like fun,” Julia said.

  She slatted her eyes and, leaning back, took a deep inhalation. The warmth of the sun and the gentle wind on her face eased her nerves. For the first time, she wondered how much of John’s uptightness was actually her own being reflected onto him. He was right. She had to admit this might be what they all needed.

  Bri was dawdling behind, kicking at the dead weeds, so after waiting a bit longer, John and Julia decided to ignore her and go ahead at their own pace. They entered the deep, cool green shade of the woods and started up the gradually inclining path.

  Glancing over her shoulder, Julia caught a glimpse of Bri’s yellow headband. She called out, “Come on, Bri. You’ll get lost if you don’t keep up.”

  John shook his head as he went on without slackening his pace. “There’s only one path. She’ll be fine as long as she sticks to it.”

  “You know this place,” Julia said a bit sharply. “She doesn’t.”

  When it was apparent that Bri wasn’t going to come running after them, they went on ahead. The forest floor was littered with curled brown leaves — mostly beech and maple leaves. Thick groves of pine held the deep green they would have all winter. Sea gulls flew by high overhead, their raucous cries drifting on the wind.

  “You know what I notice most?” Julia asked after a while. “There aren’t any — oops, there’s one, but it’s the first one I’ve seen.” She bent down to pick up the rusty beer can by the side of the trail. After inspecting it for a moment, she tossed it into the brush.

  “Well, there isn’t much litter around.”

  John shrugged. “Thank God for returnables,” he said. “There’s a grove up ahead. I can’t remember exactly where, but when we were in high school, we used to come out here drinking.”

  “What, no girls?” Julia asked with a snicker.

  John shook his head.

  “Naw. This was a private spot for the guys. When we wanted to fool around, we’d go out to —” His voice caught in his throat, and he had a sudden fit of coughing before he could finish.

  “That much fun, huh?” Julia said, laughing.

  “We’d ... go to ... “ John said, still sputtering. He had his hand over his mouth and was trying to catch his breath. “To Haskins’ barn ... on the other side of the island.” He was going to say more, but a sudden, vivid image of a face — pale and slack — rose in his mind. An unnaturally thick tongue protruded from between nearly bloodless lips, and the face held an expression of agony … even in death.

  “You all right?” Julia’s face was creasing with worry as she swatted John on the back.

  Bending down, bracing his hands on his knees, John sputtered and then sucked in a deep breath. He pounded on his own chest, gasping. His eyes were watering, blurring his vision, but the traces of what he had imagined lingered like visual echoes in his mind.

  “That isn’t how you usually react when you think about sex,” Julia said, still laughing now that it was obvious John was going to be okay. She widened her eyes and smiled wickedly at him. Casting a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure Bri wasn’t within hearing range, she said, “Maybe Haskins’ barn is where I’ll have to get you if I want to make a baby.”

  The coughing fit finally subsided, and John’s breathing returned to normal. The momentarily clear image was fading from his mind. Wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, he straightened up. He tried to say something but then simply signaled for Julia to be quiet. With Bri still trailing behind, they continued their walk side by side up to the top of the hill.

  If the view was gorgeous from halfway up, it was fantastic from the top. Shimmering blue ocean stretched away in three directions, the surface dancing with sparkles. The horizon was broken by dozens of islands, and everywhere small specks of boats — some with full-bellied white sails — glided over the water. Weekend sailors were taking advantage of what might be the last good weekend before they hauled their boats out of the water. Some lobstermen were making late morning hauls, and a Casco Bay Lines ferry was heading across the water to Peaks Island.

  “Not bad, huh? John said, moving close to Julia and encircling her waist with his arm. His coughing fit was all but forgotten as they looked over the scenic beauty.

  Julia snuggled into the hug, letting herself fill with contentment.

  “It is nice,” she said, but even as she said it, something cold took hold of her heart and squeezed.

  It wasn’t just that she still couldn’t see Bri down the slope, hidden by the trees …

  It wasn’t just that a whole week of unspoken hostility between John and his father had stripped her nerves down …

  And it wasn’t just the feeling of being uprooted … of leaving her home and friends behind in Vermont.

  No.

  It was all of these … and more …

  She had a vague sense of something more sinister waiting to spring on them.

  “Over there’s Blanchard’s Orchard,” John said. “They’ve got — at least they used to have — the best damned apples in the state. Macs and Cortlands and a couple of other varieties. Next year, we’ll have to go apple picking.”

  As he spoke, Julia was so filled with a dark, churning dread she barely registered his words.

  What is it? she wondered, as her stomach twisted with oily uneasiness.

  What the hell’s the matter with me? …I can’t let myself have a good time and enjoy a nice walk like this?

  “Sure ... sure,” she replied vaguely. She wondered if John was picking up on her agitation as she looked up at the sky — perfectly cloudless except for out on the distant horizon. She looked down at the dried brown and yellow hill gently rolling down to Shore Drive and the band of houses that ringed the island. Everything was so peaceful and quiet, but still, a dark, nameless dread coiled around her heart like a snake.

  “Where’s Bri?” she said, suddenly snapping to attention.

  She glanced at John, then looked down the path.

  “Don’t worry — she’ll be along in a minute,” John said.

  Now the nameless fear suddenly had a focus. Julia was suddenly convinced Bri was in danger. She didn’t know how she knew it, but she did. Pulling roughly away from John, she started down the path a few steps. Cupping her hands to her mouth, she yelled as loud as she could.

  “Bri! ... Bri!”

  Her voice rolled down the hill and echoed back up at her with an odd reverberation. The pine trees surrounding her suddenly looked dark and ominous, as if they were closing in on her, and she expected any minute to see ...

  What? she wondered, so frantic she was nearly speechless.

  “Come on, Bri!” she yelled. “Where are you?”

  II

  “Hey, Bri.”

  Bri stopped walking and stood stock-still in her tracks when the voice called out to her. It drifted to her softly on the breeze ... so softly it could have been the wind whispering in the pines. Her eyes darted to both sides of the path leading through the pine woods. She couldn’t even tell which direction it had come from.

  The yellowed carpet of fallen pine needles covered the ground on b
oth sides of the trail. There was no indication of anyone having walked there. She was about to start walking again when something — a faint stirring of motion off to her left — caught her eye. Far back, under the deep emerald-green shadows of the pines …

  Was that a shadow?

  Or was someone standing there, watching her?

  There is someone, Bri thought, her eyes widening with rising fear.

  She glanced quickly up the trail where her parents had disappeared, wishing they had waited for her. She didn’t dare call out.

  What if there’s a crazy person lurking in the woods? … a killer ?

  Pressure began to build in her bladder.

  She strained to see into the thick shadows under the pines, but it was as if night were had already arrived in the dark hollows of the land. The shadows were so intense they vibrated with ultraviolet purple.

  “Bri ... Over here … “

  The voice came again, striking her eardrums like feathery velvet. It was coming at her from all around, wafting through the pine branches more like the scent of pine resin than any real sound. She looked frantically up at the green trees reaching to the blue sky, but she found no reassurance there. The dark shadows under the trees were shifting and twisting into a shape that looked like ...

  “Audrey?” Bri said. Her voice sounded more like a bark. “What the heck are you doing?”

  The shadows under the tree coalesced, and it did look like her new friend was standing there, looking at her and beckoning her to come to her. Although Bri couldn’t actually see her eyes, she knew she was watching her.

  “Cut it out,” Bri said, forcing lightness into her voice which she didn’t feel. “You really scared me there for a minute.”

  She took a step forward, convinced, now, that Audrey was standing in the shade, beckoning to her. But as she got closer, the shape shifted away, and then Audrey — if she had been there at all — was gone like a pattern drawn in the sand, erased by the wind.

  Confused, Bri halted halfway between the path and the spot under the pine trees. A fitful gust of wind waved the branches, sighing with a low, snakelike hiss. She studied the interplay of shadows and light that could have made it look as if someone was standing there.