Karla eyed them. “They look great.”
Oscar wrapped the steaks. “So why did you go to Daryl?”
“You ask because they don’t see eye to eye?”
“You could say that. Those boys split up years ago. It’s a shame. Broke their mother’s heart.” He shut the locker and turned toward the stairs. “Ready to go back?”
“You’re sure you haven’t seen Andrew lately?”
“I’m sure. Andrew is not one to go unnoticed. He used to come back often to visit his mother, but—”
“Hey, you two down there,” Daryl yelled from the open door above the stairs, “are you getting steaks or herding the cattle?”
“Hold your horses, boy. We’re coming.” Oscar gestured for Karla to go up first.
She climbed the stairs, and when she reached the last step, Daryl took her arm and escorted her out of the office. “What were you two yapping about down there?”
“Andrew,” Karla said matter-of-factly.
Daryl scowled. “Oh, of course, always Andrew.”
Karla stopped and turned to him. “What do you mean by that?”
“Simply that you’re always thinking and talking about him.”
“Yes. That’s why I’m here,” she said with a stern look.
Oscar winked at Karla. “Pay no attention to him. The twins have always been at each other’s necks, even when they’re not in the same vicinity.”
They followed Oscar to the front counter where Daryl had set a basket filled with groceries. Next to it sat twenty votive candles neatly lined up in rows of five.
“So, that’s the clue? I need to find a store by a roadside?” Sarah shook her head in frustration. “Listen, Martha. First you send me on a wild goose chase to the left bank of the lake knowing full well that I would never find the house. Now you guide me toward a store that could be anywhere. I’ve been driving for hours and I’m tired, hungry, thirsty, and irritated.”
Silence.
“Let’s try another approach and find out if you can be a bit clearer. You are implying that Daryl is the one that’s threatening Karla. That’s why he purchased all those votive candles. Or is he buying candles in case of a loss of electricity? Which is it?”
Silence.
She pulled over and stopped. Bursting from the car she paced angrily. “You are so exasperating!”
She shook her head and leaned on the passenger door. “Look at that,” she pointed toward the horizon. “It’s almost sunset and—Oh! Almost sunset! I’m getting close, aren’t I? They’re just a few hours ahead of me!”
She got back in the car, revved it up, and took off. “Let’s find that general store. With a little luck, maybe you’ll let me use their phone.”
She pictured Conrad desperately searching for her, until her gaze settled solely on the road ahead.
Truth
“Daryl,” Martha exclaimed, “what on earth are you doing?”
He had decorated the entire living area of the cabin with votive candles. The incandescence of the room illuminated his satisfied grin as he sat cross-legged in the middle of the floor facing the fireplace.
He turned to her. “Hello Mother, I’m glad you’re here.”
“Why are you here, Daryl?”
His smile transformed into an angry grimace. “I’m not Daryl, you asinine woman.” He turned back facing the fire.
Martha approached him warily. She stepped over the votive candles, and sat in the armchair next to him. “Darling, you can’t fool me. Not anymore. You’re seventeen, and far too old for pretend games like that.”
“As you wish,” he growled. “Believe what you will.”
“Why have you come here? And why do all of this?” She indicated the votive candles.
He grinned. “You’re happy here. You’re full of love when you’re here.”
“Yes, I am happy here, but I’m also happy at home. Do you realize the fright you gave us running away like that?”
He shook his head. “I knew you’d come here.”
“How come?”
“The old cabin betrayed you.”
“What do you mean by that?” She reached for him, but he signaled her not to touch him.
“You created us in that old cabin. But it got its revenge—and killed Aunt Jenny.”
“Dear Lord, how did you get that idea?”
He looked at her with contempt. “I’m not stupid, Mother.”
“What’s wrong? What’s upset you? Why did run off like that?”
He narrowed his eyes and stared at her, the muscles around his mouth tight with anger. “You know why.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Are you going to pretend that those three books with all the poems that he so graciously gave us are not about his love for you? You’ve convinced yourself that we’re too naive to understand the truth.”
Martha blanched and felt her heart quicken. “What truth? Your uncle Gabriel is a generous man. You’ve said so yourself. He wished for you and your brother to have—”
“A part of him?”
“Well, yes, since you put it like that.”
“Do we have to read about his obsession with you? Isn’t it enough that he’s our real father?”
Martha leapt to her feet. “You’re wrong. What are you’re saying?”
He jumped up and moved closer to her. “Don’t lie Mother. I saw you in Paris, in his arms, in his bed.”
Martha gasped. “No, how? You don’t understand. I—”
“Oh, I do understand. You’re a whore.” He turned away and resumed his place on the floor. “Sit down, whore.”
“Daryl!”
“Don’t call me that! I’m not Daryl, I’m Andrew.” He took the book from his jacket pocket.
“Sit down, Mother, and I, Andrew, will read you a poem that I’m certain will make you smile.”
Stunned, Martha obeyed.
“The title is ‘Star.’ Do you remember it, Mother Whore?”
Martha remained motionless.
“Here it goes. I’ll try to do it justice.
“It looked as though
I had it in my hand…
A star.
I must have blinked
I guess,
Because now it’s gone.”
He tilted his head and looked up at her. “He wrote this because you left him. Right?”
Martha was speechless, her eyes welling with tears.
Daryl went on.
“Or maybe I saw
A ray of stardust
While I wished for a star
I couldn’t have.
“At least he knew he was wrong. Did you?” He glared angrily up at her.
She remained silent, staring at her son.
“Perhaps
I squeezed too tight
And now the star
Is dead.
Perhaps
I ran too fast
To show you my new prize,
“Is this about me?” He stared at the book in his hands. “Or is this his prize, these filthy pages filled with his poems?
“Or maybe stars are fragile
And it broke.
I don’t know where the answer lies,
Or what happened to my star.
Maybe it just got lonely
And hid behind the moon
To shed its tears.
Maybe
I never really had
A star
At all.
“Did you leave him for good?”
Martha noticed the flickering flames reflected in his hateful stare and remained silent.
“No matter.” He grinned through clenched teeth. “It’s time.” Slowly, he rose to his feet and approached his mother. Taking her hands, he raised her from the armchair, turned
her around to face the fire, and stepped behind her.
He clamped his arms around her, rested his chin on her shoulder, and threw the book of poems into the flames. “That was your book, not mine,” he whispered malevolently. “Mine disappeared long ago. His memory is now as dead as he should be. Nothing left of him. The poems—gone. His love—gone. Aunt Jenny will be happy.” He kissed her neck. “I’ll take care of you, Mother, especially now that you’re aware that I own the truth.”
Sarah gasped. “Dear God in heaven. No wonder you’ve been cautious. No one realized except Daryl, or was it Andrew? Which one is he, Martha? Who saw you in Paris?”
Silence.
“What a glimpse you’ve given me into your tortured reality. C’mon, please tell me, who is he, Daryl or Andrew?”
She followed the road, increasing her speed. “Maybe you’re not even completely certain which one he is.” She shook her head. “It’s clear that you discovered what he is, but maybe you weren’t sure, or refused to accept that one of your sons is a monster. Is that why you conceal his identity from me?”
Silence.
“Well, if that’s what you prefer, I’ll hush up as well.” She banged on the steering wheel and stared ahead, into the encroaching darkness.
18
The Cabin
The headlights on Daryl’s car illuminated the facade of a two-story house partly concealed by trees. Surrounded by wilderness, it sat mere feet from the lake where a small pier anchored the old familiar rowboat.
The car pulled up to the end of the driveway and Daryl climbed out. “Stay in the car. It’s very dark out here. Let me open the place up, start the generator, and turn on some lights.”
“No deal. I’m coming with you. I don’t want to miss anything.”
Daryl laughed. “Miss what?”
“What if Andrew is in there?”
“Oh, right. Let’s not forget Andrew.” The smile ebbed from Daryl’s face. “Wait till I get the generator going. Once the lights are on, we’ll go in.”
He disappeared behind the house and moments later the hum of the generator’s motor broke the silence of the forest.
Daryl walked back to the front door, opened it, and stepped into the darkened house.
The moment the lights came on Karla ran into the cabin. A large room glowed in the light of several table lamps. It was elegantly decorated with antique furniture dating to the early twentieth century. Though it was well kept, a discarded sweater on a chair and an empty cup on the coffee table made it look as if someone were living in it. The sizeable living room had built-in wall-to-wall bookshelves crammed with books, while family photographs and mementos covered most of the walls and available shelf space. Only a narrow door faced the windows that overlooked the front of the house, and a large stone fireplace separated the bookshelves. A furry white rug resembling a polar bear skin lay before the fireplace, and a couple of side chairs, and two sofas adorned the rest of the room.
“Looks like we’ve found him,” Karla said.
Daryl stopped. “What makes you say that?”
“Someone’s been living here. Look at this place—it’s spotless. And it’s not a cabin, it’s a beautiful house.”
Daryl snagged the cup, walked over to the dining room, and flicked on the light. A small kitchen with all the modern conveniences appeared beyond it. The stairs to the upper floor divided the dining room from the living room, but only a wooden counter with tall bar stools served to separate the kitchen from the dining room.
“Let’s unload the groceries,” Daryl said. “I’m famished.” He headed toward the front door where Karla remained standing. He shook his head and laughed.
She stopped him. “What’s so funny?”
“Your deductive powers.”
“Oh? Why?”
“Mrs. Oliver has been keeping the place up for years. She comes in twice a month. She was probably here yesterday. C’mon, let’s get the bags. I don’t want you to miss out on helping me carry all the stuff.” He grabbed Karla’s arm and dragged her out of the cabin.
They reached the car, and Daryl dug out one of the bags of groceries and handed it to her.
Karla took the small bag. “Twice a month? If you ask me, that’s a waste of money.”
He handed her another bag of groceries, carried one himself, snagged his suitcase, and locked the car. “When you love a place you don’t care about the money, especially if you have it. C’mon.” He steered her toward the cabin.
Inside, Daryl put his luggage down, closed the door, and nudged Karla toward the kitchen. He relieved her of the bags and placed them on the counter in the center of the kitchen under a copper hanger crowded with cooking pots, pans, spoons and ladles.
“The main house is deserted and this cabin as you call it—is kept up? I don’t get it.”
Daryl stepped into the living room, picked up his suitcase and disappeared down a hallway off the main room. “The big house,” he called out over his shoulder, “was never as warm a place as this. We all loved coming here. Particularly, Mother.” A light came on in the hallway.
Moments later he came back into the kitchen. He unpacked the groceries, placing them expertly on shelves or in the refrigerator. Karla leaned on the counter watching him.
“We? Who is ‘we’? Does Andrew—”
“Look,’ he said, clearly exasperated, “there’s no mystery here, so drop the investigation.”
“Don’t get so uptight. I was only wondering who—”
“You wonder too much.”
In silence, he finished storing the groceries, grabbed the small paper bag filled with votive candles and strode into the living room. He placed the candles in the top drawer of a cabinet by the front door just as the lights went out engulfing the cabin in total darkness.
“Shit!” he exclaimed
“What happened?”
“The damn generator. I’ve been meaning to give it an overhaul, but I haven’t had time.” He retrieved a pack of matches from the drawer, lit a couple of votive candles, and gave them to Karla. He returned to the opened drawer and grabbed a flashlight. “Here, use this.”
“What’s with the generator?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why do you even have one? With all your money you could have—”
“Yes, could have, but didn’t. Can you cook?”
“Yes, I can cook, but weren’t you going to make me the best steaks ever?”
“I am, but you can help with the salad. I’ll fix the generator and light a nice, cozy fire.” He marched off without waiting for a response.
Karla shook her head. She took the vegetables from the counter and placed them in the sink. She searched for a strainer amongst the items hanging over the table, then continued her search through various cupboards by flashlight. She spotted a strainer that satisfied her needs and headed toward the sink. The lights came on and she blew out the candles.
Daryl came back, dusting himself off. He shut the door and headed for the fireplace. “Hope it’ll last for a while. I’ll get a fire going. If it shuts down again, at least we’ll have some light.” The fireplace was prepared, with crumpled newspapers and logs set in place waiting to be lit. Daryl stroked a long match and held it to the newspapers. They ignited, and in moments the logs were burning. As he poked the logs, he heard Karla scream in the kitchen.
He dropped the poker and sprinted to her side.
Karla stood before the sink, her face, hair, and clothes, dripping wet. “The cap on the faucet wasn’t on right.”
Daryl laughed.
“Don’t stand there! Give me a towel!”
Daryl grabbed a small kitchen towel, and handed it to her. “I assumed you knew how to handle yourself in a kitchen.”
Karla raised her head from the towel. “Don’t push your luck.”
“C’m
on, you got to admit it’s pretty funny,” he said, trying to contain his laughter.
Karla frowned. “
“Really?”
“For crying out loud!”
“C’mon. I’ll show you to Mother’s room so you can dry off.”
He escorted her through the dining room and up the stairs.
They entered Martha’s elegant bedroom. Daryl opened a closet filled with clothes. “Mother was smaller than you, but one of her nightgowns might fit while we dry your clothes. The bathroom is that little door by Mother’s boudoir. While you make yourself presentable, I’ll get some wine from the cellar. Then I’ll fix you a martini to help warm you up.”
“I’ll be right out. Thanks.”
“Drop your clothes outside the door and I’ll put them in the dryer.” He left her, closing the door behind him.
Taking a robe from the closet, she dropped her clothes outside and made her way to a bathroom every bit as refined as the bedroom. She grabbed a towel and dried herself.
19
The Reveal
Sarah left her car in the parking lot outside a familiar building. The sign read General Store. At the door, she reached for the knob just as Oscar was flipping the “Open” sign over.
He noticed her and opened the door. “We’re closing, ma’am, sorry.”
“Please,” she gasped. “Oscar?”
He smiled and nodded. “This is a first. You know me but I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”
She extended her hand. “We’ve never met. I’m Sarah Thompson.” They shook hands. “It’s really you and your name is indeed Oscar.”
He chortled, amused by her comment. “Nice to meet you Sarah. And yes it is I and my name is indeed Oscar. What’s all this about?”
“I’m more than happy to tell you, but first may I use your restroom? Been driving all afternoon—”
“Yes, of course. Come right in.”
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