The Invited

by Jennifer McMahon

  “Sorry,” Olive said, looking small and sheepish. She toed the floor with a ratty sneaker. “And I can’t exactly give back the money, either. I…I kind of spent it.”

  “Of course,” Nate said, his voice taking on an edge again. “Are you sure drugs aren’t involved in this in any way?”

  “I swear! I used the money to help buy a new metal detector. A really nice one. So I could look for the treasure. I guess I can sell the metal detector and use the money to pay you back.”

  “How much money of ours did you take?” Helen asked.

  The girl looked up, thinking, then counted with her fingers. “About eighty dollars, I think. Actually, maybe closer to a hundred? I’m not sure ’cause I didn’t do it all at once. It was a twenty here, five or ten there, you know?”

  “Jesus,” Nate said again, shaking his head, rubbing his eyes.

  Helen was amazed that she’d taken so much. They’d been careless with their cash—she and Nate sharing money, passing it back and forth, sticking it in pockets, and both running off to the general or hardware store several times a day for little things they needed.

  “Wow,” Helen said. “Well, the stolen money is definitely a problem. We’re going to need you to pay us back somehow.”

  “At the very least!” Nate added.

  They were silent a minute, both of them watching Olive, who continued to twist at her nightgown worriedly.

  “What if I work it off?” Olive suggested.

  “What?” Nate scowled at her.

  “I’m a really hard worker, honest! And I know a lot about building stuff. My dad and I, we’ve been renovating our house for a long time. I’m really good with tools and I’m a lot stronger than I look. I can frame walls and hang Sheetrock. I can even do some electrical and plumbing.”

  “I don’t know,” Nate said. “I don’t think—”

  “We could definitely use some help,” Helen said, turning to him. “We’re behind schedule, right? And if Olive’s got building experience, the work will go faster if there are three of us.”

  Olive nodded, looked hopefully at Helen. “I can come after school tomorrow. A trial. To prove that I’m not messing with you—I’m actually really good at building. And if it works out, if you want me to keep helping you, school’s out for the summer next Wednesday, then I can come all day. Until you feel like I’ve done enough to pay you back. I’ll work all summer if I have to, just to make it up to you. And if it doesn’t work out, I’ll sell my metal detector and get you the cash.”

  “What do you say, Nate?” Helen asked.

  “I don’t know,” Nate said. “The kid just tried to burn our house down.”

  “Let’s not exaggerate,” Helen said. “She wasn’t trying to burn the house down.”

  “Look,” Olive said, looking right at Nate, “I know what I did, it was really wrong and downright shi—I mean downright crappy. I thought…well, who cares what I thought? I’m so, so sorry. Please, let me make it up to you.”

  Helen looked at Nate. “What do you think?”

  “We don’t know anything about her,” Nate said.

  “She’s our neighbor,” Helen said. “She’s a kid, she made some bad choices, but she’s trying to do the right thing. Right, Olive?”

  The girl nodded enthusiastically.

  Nate sighed. “No more stealing?” he asked. “No more tricks, no more sneaking around?”

  “I promise! Everything aboveboard from now on,” Olive said. “And hey, I saw all your field guides inside. I know everything about the animals in these woods. I can show you a bear’s den, a beaver dam, and where the bald eagles nest. I even know where a bobcat’s been hanging out lately.”

  Nate couldn’t quite hide his interest. “A bobcat? Really?”

  “Totally. I can tell you all about the land. I’ve been hunting around here since I was a little kid.”

  “And about Hattie?” Helen asked.

  “I’ll tell you everything I know,” the girl promised. “And if you want, I can take you to meet my aunt Riley. She knows a lot more. She’s kind of an expert on local history. And she loves all that ghost and ghost story stuff, too.”

  “What do you think, Nate?” Helen asked again.

  He was quiet, still shining the light on Olive’s face, trying to make up his mind.

  “Nate?” Helen said in way that she hoped he’d hear as You’d better go along with this.

  “Sure,” he said, still looking skeptical. “You come back tomorrow after school and we’ll see what kind of a worker you are. But if you don’t keep up your end of the bargain, or if you pull any more tricks, I go right to your father and the police.”

  “You won’t be disappointed,” Olive said. “I promise.”

  “But right now, you should get back home before your father finds out you’re gone,” Helen said. “I can’t imagine how worried he’d be.”

  “Right,” Olive said, happy to be dismissed. “See you tomorrow then.”

  “Olive,” Nate said, “one more thing.”

  Great, Helen thought. Is he going to make her sign a waiver or something?

  “It was a deer tooth, wasn’t it?”

  “Huh?” she said.

  “The little bundle with the old nail and tooth you left on our steps? I’m just wondering what kind of tooth it was and where you got it. It looks old and I can’t figure out what animal it might have come from.”

  The girl shook her head, looked confused. “Whatever it was, it didn’t come from me. I took plenty of stuff, but I never left anything.”

  “You’re sure?” Nate asked.

  She nodded. “Positive. Cross my heart.”

  Helen opened her mouth to say something more, but no words came.

  “Okay if I head back now?” Olive asked.

  “Sure,” they both said in unison, Helen’s answer gentle, Nate’s more of a harsh dismissal.

  They watched as she ran off into the woods, moving quickly and surely through the trees, the white of her old nightgown glowing like the ghost she’d tried to be.

  CLOSING IN

  CHAPTER 12

  Olive

  JULY 8, 2015

  Olive knew Nate didn’t really like her. He didn’t trust her, that was for sure. As helpful as she’d been over these last three weeks, as much work as she’d helped them accomplish (they’d finished framing the walls and roof and had moved on to putting plywood sheathing up), he kept looking at her like he was just waiting for her to screw up, to try to slip something in her backpack when they weren’t looking. He even went through a show of making her open up her backpack each day before she went home. Once a thief, always a thief.

  Helen, she’d been great. Olive heard her snap at Nate, “Christ, Nate, what’s next—are you gonna strip-search the poor kid?” when she thought Olive was out of earshot. Helen had been a history teacher back in Connecticut, but Olive could tell she hadn’t been the boring kind of teacher at all. Olive wished Helen was one of her teachers. The way she talked about history, about how people used to live back before there was electricity, before cars, it made Olive feel like she was right there, like she could really imagine what it must have been like.

  And she did it so naturally, just working all these cool facts into everyday conversation. Like now, they were driving through town in Helen’s pickup, passing by one old house after another, Helen pointing out the different architectural styles in a typical New England village like Hartsboro.

  “That house on the left, it’s a classic colonial. See how it’s a simple two-story box—no eaves, shutters, porches? Such a clean design. The saltbox, what we’re building, is a variation on the style. And see that one across the street?” Helen asked, slowing as she pointed at a huge white house with peeling paint. “Greek revival. Look at the columns, the way the peak of the roof faces the street. All the c
ornice detailing. It’s really a work of art.”

  A car behind her blew its horn and Helen sped up.

  “It’s amazing that all these old houses were built in the days before electricity,” Helen said as they drove. “Just think of it—no power tools. Everything was cut with a handsaw. And they used axes to hew the lumber. Chisels to do all that finely detailed carving on the columns and trim.”

  “Building a house must have taken for-ev-er,” Olive said.

  “Sure, things might have taken longer, but there was more of a level of craftsmanship. There was real skill involved in shaping posts and beams and joining them, in doing all the delicate trim work by hand. Builders were artists.”

  Olive liked this. She doubted folks back then would be so quick to tear down a wall and put up another the way she and her dad did constantly. Part of her kind of wished to go back to a time without power tools and plywood and drywall.

  Along with all the cool stories she told, Olive also loved that Helen was really interested in Hattie. Not just in all the creepy ghost stories, but in the real woman behind them. Helen had been doing research—looking online and asking around in town—but was frustrated that she hadn’t yet learned any real facts. Olive had told her that her aunt Riley might be able to help—she volunteered at the historical society and could get Helen in. Today, they were on their way to the salvage yard where Riley worked.

  “You’re gonna love this place!” Olive promised as they pulled up in front of the Fox Hill Salvage Yard. “And you’re also gonna love my aunt Riley.”

  Olive led Helen into the big salvage warehouse, past the old hand-hewn beams and milled lumber, the rows of old bathtubs, racks of plumbing fixtures and copper pipes. Helen stopped to look at sinks and tubs.

  “You were right,” Helen said as she walked up to a deep soapstone sink like she was being pulled by a magnet. “This place is amazing! Oh my god, look at this sink!”

  “I’m gonna go find my aunt,” Olive said. “You look around.”

  Olive found Riley behind a big desk on a raised platform in the middle of the store.

  “Hey, Ollie!” Riley called out. She came around the desk, jumped down, and enveloped Olive in one of her bone-crushing hugs. “This is a nice surprise! What are you doing here? Where’s your dad?” She looked around.

  “He’s working. I came with my neighbor Helen, you know, the lady I’ve been telling you about?”

  “Cool! Can’t wait to meet her.”

  “She’s over by the sinks, I think. She kinda has a thing for old stuff.”

  Riley smiled. “Well, she’s in the right place! Hey, I’ve got something for you,” Riley said. She went back up to the desk, pulled her messenger bag out from underneath it, and rummaged around for a minute. “Here it is!” she chirped, coming back down and presenting her gift to Olive.

  It was a small brass compass, tarnished and scratched.

  “I picked it up at a yard sale.”

  “It’s amazing,” Olive said.

  “It’s for helping you find your way,” Riley told her, and Olive had a feeling she meant a whole lot more than just getting in and out of the woods.

  “Thank you,” Olive said. Olive looked down at the compass in her hands, the needle spinning, wavering, until it settled on north. She told herself to be brave, to just ask—it was now or never. “Hey, Aunt Riley, can I ask you something?”

  “Sure, kiddo. What’s up?”

  “It’s about my mom.”

  This seemed to catch Aunt Riley off guard. She smiled a worried smile. “What about her, Ollie?”

  “I’m wondering if you can tell me anything about those last couple of weeks. If you knew what she was up to. Who she was seeing.”

  Riley let out a long, deep sigh. “Have you talked to your dad about this?”

  Olive shook her head. “No way! We don’t talk about that. Only about how things will be when Mama gets home.”

  “That’s for the best, maybe.”

  “I know. Dad can’t handle it. He just…can’t. But if you know anything, if there’s something you’ve been keeping from me, I want to know. Please. I can handle it, whatever it is. I’m not a little kid anymore.”

  Riley reached out, took Olive’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “I know you’re not, Ollie. You’re growing up fast. I can’t believe you’re going into your second year of high school in the fall. I remember the day your parents brought you back from the hospital, how tiny you were, how perfect. Where does time go?”

  “You’re kind of doing it again, Aunt Riley,” Olive said.

  “Doing what?”

  “Changing the subject like you always do when Mom comes up. I’m sick of not talking about her, about what happened—aren’t you sick of it, too?”

  Riley looked at her for a few seconds, thinking and frowning.

  “Look, I’ll tell you what I told your dad,” Riley said at last. “The truth is I don’t know what your mom was up to. She was real secretive all of sudden. I could tell something was up. Something was different.”

  “Me, too!” Olive said. “She was like that with me, too.”

  It felt good to be talking about it at last, to get everything out in the open.

  Riley nodded. “There was definitely some kind of change in her.”

  “Do you remember the last time you saw her?” Olive asked.

  “Yeah. She was at Rosy’s Tavern. I stopped in with some friends after work and she was there.”

  “Was she alone?” Olive asked.

  Riley hesitated, bit her lip. Olive gave her a pleading come on, we’ve gone this far look.

  “No,” Riley said. “She was with a guy.”

  “What guy?” Olive asked.

  Riley looked away. “No one I know.”

  “Well, what’d he look like?”

  She looked back at Olive, shrugging her shoulders. “I don’t remember exactly. Dark hair and eyes, maybe. A leather jacket.”

  “Do you think maybe Sylvia knows who he was?”

  Sylvia tended bar at Rosy’s and was one of Mama’s best friends, going way back before Olive was born.

  “I don’t know, Ollie, and honestly, even if she did, what good does it do?”

  “ ’Cause maybe he’s the guy she ran off with? And maybe if we know more about him, we can figure out where they might have gone?”

  “Oh, honey,” Riley said as she gave Olive The Look. The pitying poor little girl look Olive knew so well. Olive clenched her jaw. She didn’t want anyone’s pity, especially her aunt Riley’s. She didn’t want to be that girl.

  “Here’s the thing, honey,” Riley continued. “If your mama wanted us to find her, she would get in touch.”

  “But if we—”

  “I know it hurts, believe me. But we’ve got to be patient. She’ll come back when she’s ready, Ollie.” She raised her eyes, looked up behind Olive, and smiled.

  “Hi, there. You must be Riley,” said Helen.

  Helen joined Olive at her side.

  “Aunt Riley, this is Helen. Our new neighbor I’ve been telling you about,” Olive said, forcing a smile even though she felt broken and frustrated by the conversation they’d been having. How could Riley think it wouldn’t do any good to follow clues, to try to figure out where Mama had gone? “She’ll come back when she’s ready” wasn’t good enough for Olive, and she couldn’t believe that it seemed to be good enough for Riley.

  “Ah, yes, you live out by Breckenridge Bog!”

  “That’s me—the one living on the cursed land, stirring up ghosts!” Helen said with a chuckle.

  “Wonderful to meet you,” Riley said enthusiastically, holding out a hand for Helen to shake.

  “Wait!” Olive said to Helen. “What did you say?”

  “Nothing,” Helen said. “Sorry. Just some sil
ly stuff I heard in town.”

  “So you’ve heard it? What they’ve been saying? How you brought Hattie back?”

  Helen looked at her, narrowed her eyes. “I’ve heard a bit. And it sounds like you have, too. Why didn’t you say anything?”

  Olive shrugged. “It’s just dumb stuff people are saying. ’Cause you live out by the bog, I guess,” Olive said. “And then there’s all the witch books you checked out of the library.”

  Helen shook her head in disbelief. “You’re kidding, right? People know what library books I checked out?”

  Olive nodded. “Brendan at Ferguson’s, he’s even going around telling people that he thinks you might be a witch yourself.”

  Riley laughed. “In a little town like Hartsboro, you have to be careful what you check out of the library. Check out one book on the occult and you’re in league with the devil himself.”

  “Don’t librarians take an oath or something?” Helen said. “Isn’t there a code of honor?”

  “Not in Hartsboro, apparently,” Riley said.

  “It’s more than the library books, though,” Olive went on. “They’re saying you, like, woke Hattie up or something. Made bad things start happening.”

  “What?” Helen asked. “What bad things? Like the bus accident?”

  Olive nodded.

  “Let me guess, Hattie and I caused the lightning and fires, too?”

  “Maybe.” Olive shrugged. “That’s what some people are saying anyway.”

  Riley smiled. “Probably even the traffic light going out again and again,” she said. “It’s usually just Hattie who gets blamed for anything bad that happens in Hartsboro, but now all the old gossips are over the moon because they have someone new, an actual flesh-and-blood person to blame.”

  Helen stood stunned, shaking her head.

  “I wouldn’t worry too much about it,” Riley said. “It’ll burn itself out. Some teenage girl will get pregnant or a guy will leave his wife for another guy and the whole town will have something else to chatter about.”

  “Yeah,” Olive agreed. “Take it from me, the best thing to do is ignore it.”