The Keystone: Finding Home

by Seren Goode

  “Do you know Waters?” I whispered, sitting back down and trying not to be too obvious as I talked to the sculpture, uh, man.

  The man chided. “You been asking for Waters all day long. I watched you. What you want with him?” The bronze lips barely moved.

  “My dad sent me to find him. Can you help us? Can you take us to him?” Doubts raced through my head, and I wondered what we would do if he wouldn’t help.

  “You’re cookin’ with gas now.” Was that a yes? His lips turned up slightly at one corner. I rolled my eyes and sunk down on the bench with a groan of realization.

  “You’ve been sitting here all day watching us make a public menace of ourselves.”

  “Yep, and I was about to call the police myself.” He drew out the word so it sounded like poe-lease.

  “Please don’t,” I begged, turning back to him. “How can we find Waters?”

  “Well, Waters doesn’t like all the attention he’s been getting, and he might not be willing to talk to you. What you got for him?” In his gravelly voice the phrase came out “What shoes got for m”, but I understood the essence of what he wanted. Money.

  I had passed the first test. Now I had to be careful not to make us look too desperate; though, I was pretty sure we had passed the pathetically desperate stage around three o’clock this afternoon.

  “What we have for Waters is between him and us,” I hedged. “What I have for you is one hundred dollars. Fifty now and fifty when we arrive safely in front of him. And we don’t have a lot of money, so don’t even try and shake us down for more,” I hurriedly added. “I’ve got a volatile redhead and a hypoglycemic whiner, and I’m not afraid to use them.”

  “Uh-huh, I’m real scared.” The bronze man broke his pose and shook his arms, the fabric of his jacket rattled and scraped together. “Hundred now and another hundred when I take you to him.”

  “Nope, 50/50, and we will buy you dinner. We’re just a bunch of broke kids.” I hoped I looked confident, yet humble enough that he believed me. My stomach was swirling in knots, and my breath was all choked up in my chest; I was surprised I could talk. The worst thing possible would be to let him know we had money. That would put us all in danger. But, if he walked, what were we going to do?

  “Hmm, you drive a hard bargain lil’ girl,” he drawled at me. “But since I’m such a givin’ spirit—and you are including dinner—I’ll take you up on it.”

  Shim was headed back our way with a bread bowl of soup in each hand. The twins danced in front of him, making faces of enjoyment as they relished their soup, Jaxon trailed behind.

  “That my dinner there?” The man rolled his eyes toward Shim.

  “It is if you want it. Then, after dinner, will you take us to Waters?” I pleaded.

  “I surely will.” He smiled.

  Before I was able to mention our deal, the bronze man had reached out his hand toward them. Skylar jumped back, alarmed to see the sculpture move. Both of his hands flew up. Fortunately, he had stepped back into Shim, so his soup flew over Shim’s head; unfortunately, Jaxon was close behind him. The hot soup drenched his shirt, and the bread bowl hit him on the side of the head. Dripping soup, Jaxon yelled and reached around Shim to give Skylar a one-handed shove and a foul look. This action knocked both soups out of Shim’s hands.

  Shim clenched his teeth and looked down at the soup on the ground then shot a furious look over his shoulder at Jaxon. At the pointed glare, Jaxon rolled his eyes and handed his soup to me. After a short explanation, the brothers and Skylar returned to the restaurant to clean up and buy more food.

  Breeze was thrilled with our new friend. She settled on the ground next to him, peppering him with questions. I handed Jaxon’s soup to the bronze man, and as he dug into it with relish, he drawled, “Dinner and entertainment, what a treat.”

  ∞

  It was full on dark by the time we paid the Bronze Man the fifty-dollar deposit and followed him away from Fisherman’s Wharf and deep into the city. He took a twisting, turning route through back alleys, empty buildings, and up long staircases on steep hills. How did the old man keep going? Every few minutes, he would stop, turn around, and ask one of us a personal question about our parents. Based on the answer, or non-answer since we refused to give details to anyone but Waters, he would grunt and head off in a different direction. He was obviously taking us on a ride. Jaxon and Shim wanted to ditch him, and we were about to take a vote when he stopped in front of the charred remains of an old Victorian house. The blackened exterior was surrounded by abandoned scaffolding and construction debris. The front door was boarded-up as were all the windows.

  One minute, Bronze Man was standing in front of us; the next, he was gone. My heart raced at the idea this could be some kind of trap. Jaxon cursed, Shim growled, I searched the porch, and the others joined in. Suddenly, the boarded-up front door swung open. Shim, who was closest, jumped back, startled. The Bronze Man did a mock bow. “Well, are you coming in?”

  Desperation overrode suspicion, and I took a tentative step over the threshold. The others followed. My heart raced as the door swung shut behind us.

  We had entered a time warp. The house looked as if it had been abandoned in the middle of the night…twenty years ago. A winged-back armchair, the leather cracked and stuffing pulled out in places, sat sentinel at the dirt-smudged front window. On a little table next to it was a Readers Digest held open by a pair of half-moon reading glasses. Another patched fabric chair had an embroidered cloth thing over the back and a side pocket with knitting needles and a ball of yarn sticking out. Faded framed photos on the walls showed children in arrested stages of development, frozen in time, like this house. Everything from the frayed carpets to the stairs leading up to a second story was covered with a fine layer of dust.

  “This is my retirement property,” Bronze Man over pronounced as he swept a stiff arm around the space. “I’m saving this for my elderly years.” It was hard to tell under the layers of metal-colored makeup, but I was pretty sure he was already deep into his elderly years. “My current dwelling is in the back. Come’n.”

  The back of the house was a surprisingly cozy nest. The dated kitchen had been turned into a living room. There was a misshapen couch and a couple more threadbare wingbacks. A cot was pushed up against the back wall. The tall windows were pasted over with newspaper, making the space dark.

  Bronze Man lowered himself to the couch, his knees cracking as he stretched out his legs.

  “Okay…what do you want to know?” he asked.

  “You’re Waters?” I’d thought so, but with confirmation, a wash of excitement came over me.

  “Sure am,” he drawled.

  “How do we know you aren’t lying?” Jaxon asked suspiciously.

  “You don’t. But I know who you are.” He smiled slyly at us, his eyes wrinkling up at the corners sending fissures through his makeup. “You’re not too smart for all your bravado. You’re Jaxon, Kindle’s youngest.” Then he nodded at Shim “and that would make you Shimmer. Odd name for a boy, but your momma is one strong-headed woman.” He smiled fondly as he spoke about Kindle, but I was stuck on Shim’s full name. Who names a baby Shimmer?

  “You two.” He pointed at Breeze and Skylar. “You little jabber boxes gotta watch your mouths. You don’t ever know who is listening in. You told me your father was Arie, that you have too much money, and that he would do anything to get you back. You put a bull’s-eye on your back with your loose lips.”

  The twins were taken aback by both the proclamation of their deficiencies and the identification. When had they mentioned their father?

  “And you little lady”—he pointed at me—“why, I’d know you anywhere. You’re the spitting image of your momma. You don’t talk much, ‘cept at the beginning when you told me your Da sent you, but more troublesome is you’re holding yourself like you are waiting to get attacked. You ca
n’t show fear, girl.” He cocked his head. “We gotta toughen you up. You make a good leader, but you need some brass in you.”

  My brows arched up into my hairline, but most of it was probably true, except the part about me being the leader.

  “So, you are Waters. Where did you meet our parents?” Shim asked, suspicion scrunching up his face, or it might have been distaste at being called Shimmer.

  “Do you know where they are now?” Skylar asked.

  And Breeze butted in. “How can we get them back?”

  “Why were they taken?” I added.

  “You need to take me to my mom,” Jaxon demanded, thumping a fist into his palm.

  Waters raised his hands to hold off the questions that came at him. “Whoa there, Nelly,” he intoned out slowly. “Don’t know where they’re at, but if the people who took them are the same ones that was after them years ago, then you are in a heap of danger.” With a litany of crackling and popping joints, he got up slowly from the couch and headed for the door.

  We stared at him, focused on his every word.

  Waters turned at the threshold. “I met ‘em about twenty-five years ago. They were in trouble, so scared and all alone—displaced is the best word I can think of to describe it. They just didn’t fit anywhere and didn’t know how to get along. I helped them learn to survive.” He paused, looking off into the memory. “And that is all you are getting from me until I got a better understanding of what you can do,” he finished with a snap.

  “What do you mean ‘what we can do’?” I challenged.

  “They sent you here for a reason. They want you to go to school with me, same as they did.” He headed down a hall. “I’m fixin’ to peel off a little paint. You discuss amongst yourselves what you’re gonna do next. If you decide to stay, you can sleep upstairs. There is probably a bed or something up there.” He paused in the hall and added a grave warning. “But you ain’t got a second chance at me. You say no now, and you’re gone. I know what is chasing you, and you should be very, very afraid.”

  I shivered. We knew we were in trouble, but was it as bad as Waters was implying? Our parents had been scared. Very scared. And now, I was too.

  “You’ve never been upstairs?” Shim asked. That guy was so weird. Of all the things we had to worry about, that is what he decided to ask the old man?

  “Nope…that’s where the previous tenants died.” He gave a deep haunting laugh and disappeared.

  Chapter 8

  Dead Man's House

  I rolled over and groaned. If you had told me a month ago that I’d be sleeping where a dead body was found, I would have said you were crazy. Yet here I was. Well, it was a dead man’s house anyway. We don’t know for sure which room he died in.

  But it could be here.

  Right where I lay.

  Ick!

  Not trusting Waters, we had decided to all sleep in the same room on the uncomfortable dirty wood floor. The only thing that would have made it worse was if the room had been furnished and carpeted. My skin itched thinking about what would have been crawling in the upholstery.

  I pulled the zipper on my jacket up to my chin, more a gesture for security than cold, though the room was drafty. Night air crept in around the cracks in the walls and streamed in alongside blue moonlight from the holes in the cardboard taped over a broken window. Lying on my back in the dark on the old house’s cold floor put me closer to the smell of rot, a witch’s brew of mothballs, mold, and something herbal. No wonder I was having trouble sleeping. I shuddered as I stared up at the stained popcorn ceiling. Yellowed with water damage, it sagged in the middle like a stalactite poised to let loose a drip.

  I thought about my Dad. Where was he? Is he okay? He wasn’t used to taking care of himself. What if he wasn’t safe? What if I never saw him again, like my mom? I tried to shut out those thoughts and failed.

  And my mother, was she really alive? If so, where was she? Was she hurt? Was she being hurt all this time? Would death have been better? I was so confused; I’d gotten used to the idea of her being dead. For a minute, I lowered the wall of betrayal I felt toward her and reminded myself she may have had no choice in leaving us. Was it selfish to want that? To want her to have to suffer being forced to leave, instead of me suffering her death? My stomach rolled. What kind of person was I that her suffering made me feel closer to her? Heat burned in my face.

  Thank Stars the twins and the brothers couldn’t read minds. Mine was racing in circles. I’m sure the others already don’t like me, don’t like the way I’ve been bossing everyone around. Waters talked about me being the leader—no one would be on board for that. Did I like them? I hadn’t had much time to think about the others, let alone decide if I liked or disliked any of them. Did it matter? The twins just expected life to work out, and the brothers reminded me of all the people who taunted you when it didn’t. I guess there was not a lot to like.

  In spite of these conflicted feelings, I did fell a strange connection to them—and oddly, through them, I felt closer to my mother. The thought made me angry. We had been lied to. But it also made me sad.

  Something about being here with them brought up all these memories of her. They surrounded me like thin slivers of light, flowing as if on a current through the room, winding around us, past and present, and connecting me to my mom again.

  It was amazing to think she had gone through Waters’ “schooling.” Had it helped her? What had happened to her life? What was so horrible that my mom had been driven to work with Waters? The man was highly suspicious. Surely, whatever she had run from couldn’t be as bad as what had brought us to Waters. I tried not to think about the mess we were in and some of the decisions I had made.

  I can’t believe I jumped off a building. In hindsight, not my smartest decision.

  My mind wandered to Shim and the way his amber eyes had narrowed, brows lowering in silent judgment after that jump. As if he could feel me thinking about him, I heard him turn over, shifting in his sleep. He was lying on the far side of the room, against the wall. I could hear his slow steady breathing as he slept. Breeze and Skylar were curled up together, Skylar having issues with the dust and wheezing with each breath. Jaxon, in the back corner by the window, had more of a grumpy snore.

  My hand strayed up to the necklace balanced on my collarbone, fingers stroking the stone like a talisman. The thoughts still swarmed my head, but I drew comfort from the stone.

  Slowly, I became aware of something…no, not something—someone, someone else.

  A voice.

  There was a very distinct male voice breaking through my brain chatter.

  “Hello?” I moved my lips silently in more of a thought than a spoken word. I froze, waiting to hear something back.

  Silence.

  I was letting my imagination run wild with all the suppositions spinning around in my head. Curling over on my side, I rearranged my messenger bag, which I was using as a pillow. I needed to get some sleep, but my mind wandered on, spinning back over what we had done today and wondering what we would be doing in a few days. I was starting to think that we would not be finding our parents quickly.

  Was it right to agree to Waters’ form of education? I can’t believe I was even considering this. Who was this girl doing all these crazy things? I didn’t know myself anymore. Could I trust anything I was feeling right now?

  “Yeah, you can.”

  The voice came out of nowhere. Loud and clear and—in my head. I might be losing my mind. That’s what it meant, right? When you recognized a voice in your head other than your own? Was this some type of auditory hallucination? Oh, my God. I read somewhere that was a serious mental health issue, hypnagogia or something. Had my mind snapped?

  “Stars, you’re dramatic!”

  Every muscle in my body froze. “That voice sounded real.”

  “I am real…and you could be
losing it,” the voice conceded.

  Silence. Then, like a switch flipping, a million things burst out in my head at once. “You’re real? Who are you? How did you find me? Who else can you talk to? No, wait, how? How can you talk to me? Is this a trick? I’ll bet this is a trick.” The mental circus that usually only I heard went flooding out.

  “Wow, that’s a lot to process.”

  “Are you a ghost?” I asked.

  “I could be a ghost. Wh-o-o-o-o-o, a spirit with unfinished business.”

  “You’re a rather snarky ghost,” I thought

  “I’m not a ghost. I’m real, Grace.” The voice sounded irritated now.

  “How do you know my name?” I sat up from the hardwood floor. Terror rocked through me as my fingers clutched at my throat. Across from me in the silent room, I could see Shim sitting up in the darkness. We stared at each other.

  “Shim?” I whispered aloud, wondering if he could hear the voice too.

  Shim shook his head. I frowned. What was going on? I tried to speak again, and he glared. We stared at each other silently when I heard the voice again.

  “Grace.”

  “Shim?” I thought.

  “Yeah.”

  “How is this possible?” I said loudly. Shim waved a shushing hand in front of his mouth, and I repeated it in my head. “How is this possible?”

  “I don’t know,” Shim responded

  “But have you, you know, done THIS before?”

  “Talked to a girl in the dark? Yes. Talked to someone in my head? Of course not,” he replied. “I’m not crazy…” The “like you” was implied in the note of laughter in his voice—in my head.

  “I heard that!” I narrowed my eyes at him. “So how is…what is…how long?” I sputtered out, then thought of something. “Have you been listening to me all day, ‘cause that—that is an invasion of privacy.” I tried to think back to what I’d been thinking about today that I wouldn’t want someone else to hear—which would be everything.