by John Gray
Chase shook her head, then remembered, “Oh, wait, actually, yes. Question. Who has good pizza around here, a place that delivers?”
Nick scratched his balding head and said, “The fastest is Luigi’s but they’re not the best. The best, believe it or not, is Marty Burke’s place, the South End Tavern. There on Mill Street, if you Google ’em.”
Chase repeated his words out loud, so she wouldn’t forget, “The South Side Tavern.”
Nick quickly correcting her, “End, South End Tavern. Old Marty Burke’s place. Ain’t that funny. The best pizza in Briarcliff is made by an Irishman. Go figure.”
Chase thanked him, continued her short walk, and placed the rose on the rock wall. She paused momentarily, looking into the woods beyond the property, wondering how the flower managed to vanish each night. Then she pushed the thought aside and headed back toward the house to open some wine and see if Gavin wanted to build a fire.
As she inched closer to the French doors that led to the kitchen, she could see through the door glass that Gavin was holding the bottle of Merlot in one hand and a corkscrew in the other, but his face instantly made her stomach turn.
She stopped, and through the window she mouthed the words what’s wrong? Gavin just waved the hand holding the corkscrew, motioning for her to come in.
The moment she turned the latch and opened the glass doors she instantly understood why Gavin looked like he had seen a ghost. Faintly, but in a rhythm you could have set a clock to, Chase heard barking. It came every few seconds and always three times in a row, bark, bark, bark. A slight pause then, bark, bark, bark.
Gavin held up the unopened wine bottle and asked, “Should I even bother?”
Chase, with her own ashen face, now quipped sarcastically, “I’d wait. Something tells me we’ll need a drink after.”
After placing a pizza order by phone, the two of them walked through the house, neither one harboring any real hope that Scooter was barking at a squirrel or had his collar stuck in a door, anything normal to justify such a commotion. They knew what was happening before they even got there.
Sure enough, in the room off the den, they found Scooter standing upright, positioned like a watchdog who had cornered his prey, barking at the shelf full of board games again.
The moment Scooter saw them approach, he stopped barking and sat down as if his work here was done.
Chase patted his head and said, “Again, buddy? Really?
Gavin said, “Just to be certain, pick up a different game and see what he does.”
Chase looked back and said, “You think? Okay, let’s see.”
She grabbed a box off the shelf and said loudly, as if to drive home the point, “SO, WHO WANTS TO PLAY BATTLESHIP?”
As she turned with the game in hand, Scooter gave her a low growl, his way of saying, don’t mess around, grab the right one.
Chase put Battleship back and traded it for Scrabble. Once Scrabble was in her hand, Scooter lay down on the rug, put his ears back, and just stared at the two of them with contentment.
Gavin opened the box and said, “Stupid question, but, do we even bother playing or just see what happens when you pick letters?”
Chase sounded annoyed now: “You think I have a clue? Let’s, um, let’s both just pick letters.”
They opened the game’s board out of habit, laying it face up on the carpet, then took up the cloth bag that was filled with 99 Scrabble letters, all printed on wooden tiles.
“I’ll go first,” Gavin said, taking seven of them out in this order: V S T U E B O. He stared at them a quick second and observed, “I can make VEST, BUT, BOUT. I have a few words here. Now you.”
Chase shook the bag briefly then retrieved E Z R A B K Y. Chase looked long and hard and said, “The words I see are KEY, YEAR, BEAR, BRAKE, the other spelling of BREAK, BAR, RAKE and BAKE.”
They placed all the letters back into the sack, gave them a hearty shake and went again.
Gavin got M P X O D L R. He moved the letters around and said, “Okay, this time I can do MOP, ROD, POM, like something a cheerleader would have. None of my words repeated.”
Chase reached back in and pulled seven new letters in one big bunch, getting K O E D R B A. They both looked them over carefully when Gavin said, “I see RED, BRA, BAKE, BAR again, ROB, DO, READ, RAKE again, and DARE. That’s all I’ve got.”
Chase agreed that she could only see the same nine words as Gavin. He was about to scoop them up and return them to the bag when Chase grabbed his arm to stop him.
“Wait. Gavin.” She then moved the letters around, to spell once again the words BRAKE and BREAK.
They both were quiet a moment, thinking, then Gavin said, “So BAR, RAKE, BAKE and BRAKE with both spellings repeated. Skip me and just take out five letters, like we did with Bella, remember?”
Chase sat back and looked deep in thought, staring at the Scrabble pieces on the floor. Then she surprised him, saying, “What if we don’t? What if we just leave it be, whatever this is.”
Gavin rubbed her knee and said, “I’ll do whatever you want but …”
Chase then, “But what?”
Gavin put the tiles back in the bag, stood up, and paced a moment as if he wanted to be certain how he said what needing saying next: “In Vermont and now here, what you saw helped people. There’s no denying that. Look at Charlie and Bella. Chase … YOU help people.”
He went silent now, and Chase stared at her dog who was also quiet and offering no opinion on the matter.
Finally, she relented, “You’re right. But I’m getting sick of playing this game.”
Chase grabbed the bag from Gavin’s hand and instead of taking out five wooden tiles with letters on them, she moved off the carpet and shook the whole bag upside down violently, forcing them all to fall out.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING? Gavin yelled, causing Scooter to get startled and jump.
Chase ignored him and kept shaking until all 99 tiles hit the hardwood floor and bounced in all directions. They scattered across the room in an area five feet wide.
Gavin was looking at Chase, worried this might be upsetting her, but she seemed calm as a cup of cocoa, gazing down at the floor.
She turned her head, and a slight grin crept up in the corners of her mouth, causing Gavin to ask, “What is it?”
Chase simply said, “Look.”
Gavin glanced down and realized every single tile was face down on the floor except four of them. Chase knew if she dumped those tiles a thousand times, she couldn’t get 95 of them to fall face down.
The only four tiles that were facing up were the letters- R A K E, in exactly that order.
Chase looked to Gavin and said, “Close. We got four out of five to land face up.”
They both stood in silence when Chase added sarcastically, “Maybe I’m supposed to buy a rake.”
Gavin replied, “Somehow I doubt that.”
Then she paused and added, “It’s possible this is just a weird coincidence.”
Gavin answered, “Do you really believe that?”
Chase giggled, “No, but I’m trying not to lose my mind here, so let a girl dream, okay?”
Gavin again: “Maybe you’re right, only four flipped over, so maybe this is all nonsense, Chase.”
Chase, feeling a bit better about things, agreed, “Would you look at the two of us? We are making ourselves nuts over some random letters. It’s just a stupid board game.”
Just then Scooter barked, causing both of them to look. Once he secured their attention, the dog slowly walked over the shelf where the games were kept and scratched his paw at something on the floor. Sure enough, there was a single tile that bounced farther than all the others, a good ten feet away, and the letter was face up. They couldn’t make it out from that distance, so Gavin walked over, picked it up and turned so Chase could see. It was a B.
Neither one felt like cleaning up the mess. Chase just looked at Gavin and said, “Wine?”
Gavin agreed, and as they
started toward the kitchen, almost as if on cue, the door knocker banged loudly, and Scooter went running in that direction. It was the Irish pizza guy bringing them an Italian treat.
For the next hour they sat in the kitchen, chowing down on the best pizza either had ever had and finishing the bottle of wine.
Gavin, still holding the letter B in his hand, raised the tile up and said, “Break. Maybe someone is telling you to take a break.”
Chase shook her head, “A break from what? I haven’t written a word since that article for the New Yorker, and I barely worked before that.”
Gavin was lost, responding, “I honestly don’t know then.”
Chase: “Besides, what if that’s the wrong break.”
Gavin: “What do you mean ‘wrong break’?”
Chase, being a writer, explained, “B-R-E-A-K is the kind of break you’re talking about. What if I’m supposed to be seeing B-R-A-K-E. Like a brake that stops something.”
Gavin, now understanding, replied, “Oh, like when you pump the brakes in a car.”
Chase again: “Yes, that kind of brake. But what does brake even mean?”
They sat silently, when Gavin observed, “Well, with the word Bella we didn’t know what it meant until it whacked us over the head. Maybe this will be the same way.”
Chase had a very uneasy feeling about this mystery word, although she couldn’t put her finger on why.
As she placed the dirty dishes in the sink and the empty pizza box in the garbage she said, “Why don’t we both sleep on it.”
Chase faced another restless night. Something told her this message was different, and that the worry she felt deep down to her bones was not misplaced. By the time the sun rose on Manhattan, Chase knew what she needed to do.
CHAPTER 20
Check It Again
When Gavin arrived back at Briarcliff Manor the next morning, he could smell bacon and syrup wafting from the kitchen. Chase’s hair was pulled back in a ponytail, no make-up in sight, and she was jumpy, having already finished three cups of coffee. Gavin had long ago stopped telling her how beautiful she was without a stitch of make-up, because she refused to believe him, but he thought it every time he saw her this way.
As he entered the kitchen, Chase pointed at the tall wooden chair with two slats on the back and said, “Sit.”
Gavin, feeling a big like a Golden Retriever, did as he was told and saw his first cup of coffee was already waiting. He gave Chase a look that said, Go ahead. I know you have a plan, so hit me with it.
Chase took a large bite of toast and jumped right in, “Remember the snowmobile falling through the ice, back in Vermont? Of course, you do—you were there chasing after it. Anyway, I’m thinking this could be the same thing, sort of.”
Gavin took a drink of his hot coffee and spoke for the first time this morning, saying, “Explain what sort of means?”
Chase continued. “I saw something in that church window back in Manchester that warned me the snowmobile and the rider were in danger, that they might fall through the ice. And it turned out to be true. I think it’s happening again here. Not the same way, but kind of the same, me getting a warning, a premonition.”
Gavin understood where she was going, so he replied, “Go on.”
Chase then, “The words I kept getting last night in those Scrabble pieces were bar, rake, bake, break, and brake. And as we discussed over pizza, I don’t go to bars, I don’t bake, I don’t need a rake or to take a break, so that leaves us with the spelling that means a BRAKE that stops something. And what has brakes?”
Gavin, following along, replied, “A car.”
Chase, “Exactly, but that’s not all. Trucks have them too. Like your pick-up truck.”
Gavin reached over for a piece of slightly burnt bacon, placing it on his plate and said, “So you’re worried my brakes are going to fail or something when I’m going down a hill?”
Chase then, “A hill or highway or wherever. Yes, I am worried about that, and not just you.”
Gavin was curious, “Who else?”
Chase slid over a piece of paper that had a long list of names in black ink, “I was working on this while you slept. Obviously, we need you to get your brakes checked and Matthew, my driver. But I was also thinking of a few people back in Vermont, my mom in Seattle, of course, um, Raylan at the café, Deb, Oscar too, although I’m not sure he even has a car.”
Gavin thought a moment and said, “And you plan to call them all and warn them something might happen?”
Chase corrected him, “Called, past tense, as in I already did it. At seven a.m.”
Gavin shook his head, looking somewhat displeased. “CHASE, you must have woken people up and worried them with this.”
Chase felt defensive at his comment, responding sharply, “Hey, these are the people I care about, and you were the one last night who said I can’t ignore this stuff and, I might add, pointed out that all the messages in the past helped someone. So …”
Gavin could see she was getting annoyed, so he reached for her hand and said, “No, you’re absolutely right. You can’t mess around with this. Whatever it is, you did the right thing.”
As Gavin took another bite of bacon, Chase said, “I called Nick Hargraves, the groundskeeper, and he told me he does his own brakes on his pick-up, you know, instead of a repair shop, and he said he knows his brakes are fine. As a favor, he’s coming over this morning to check your truck.”
Gavin smiled and said, “Man, that guy is a jack of all trades.”
Chase continued: “And Matthew promised me he’d take his car directly to the BMW dealership that’s like two blocks from his place in Manhattan, so he’s covered.”
Scooter scratched at the back door, letting them know he needed to go out and do his business. As Gavin opened the door, he glanced out toward the rock wall, and sure enough, the small yellow rose was gone as usual.
He turned to Chase and said, “You know I’m a patient man, but this rose thing is driving me crazy. At some point I’m going to have to sleep in the yard by that rock wall and see who takes that flower and why.”
Chase joined him by the window, resting her hand on his shoulder, and said, “I’ll be honest, it’s driving me nuts too. Someday we’ll figure this vanishing rose out and the rest of it.”
Gavin replied, “Oh, you mean the window that can’t be washed and the yard that can’t be dug. Have we considered the possibility that the old man who left these rules was cuckoo and we are idiots for playing along and acting like the FTD florist every night?”
Chase looked away from the yard and back at Gavin saying, “Cuckoo enough to give me a mansion that’s got to be worth, jeez, I don’t even want to think about it.”
Gavin seemed lost in thought, and then said, “Hey, something just occurred to me. The taxes on this have to be in the stratosphere. I wonder if you have to pay them.”
Chase looked back out the window at the rock wall and said, “Maybe some money will suddenly appear on the wall where the rose was and pay them for me.”
Gavin laughed and replied, “Wouldn’t that be nice.”
Just then a knock on the front door sent Scooter scrambling around the outside of the house.
It was Nick, the groundskeeper, saying, “I need the keys to the truck to check the brakes.”
Gavin scooped them off a small table by a coat rack inside the front door and handed them over, prompting Nick to say, “I have no clue why you folks need your brakes checked this early in the day, but I’m here, so just give me a half hour or so.”
Chase watched as the old man drove one side of Gavin’s truck up on a metal riser that acted like a jack. Nick then proved he was doubly smart, taking a wooden block and jamming it against Gavin’s back tire, making certain it couldn’t move while he was underneath the two tons of steel. A moment later Nick got down on his back, facing the white December sky, and slid under the chassis.
Chase’s grandmother Marge was fond of saying, “A watched
pot never boils,” so Chase stopped snooping through the front window and ran upstairs to take her morning shower. She figured by the time she got done, they’d have a verdict on Gavin’s brakes.
Gavin was playing ball in the front yard with Scooter when, a short time later, Nick appeared to his left, his hands covered in dark grease.
He said confidently, “Your brakes are fine. Looking at the pads and rotors I’d say you have another eighteen thousand miles before you’ll need to change ’em. That means you have more than a year before you’ll need to worry about it.”
Gavin saw Chase coming out of the house, wearing a pretty white sweater and a pair of Jordache jeans she found at a vintage shop in Boston, when he said, “We’re all good, hon. No problems with the brakes. In fact, Nick says I’ve got at least another year before …”
Gavin couldn’t finish that sentence before Chase cut him off, saying in a stern voice to Nick, “Check them again.”
Nick, wiped his dirty hands on his pants, gave a loud sniff as if fighting an early winter cold, then said, “Miss, I just checked. He’s fine.”
Chase looked at the truck and said, “You checked all four tires? All four brakes? The brake lines, everything?”
Nick nodded, “Yes, ma’am. As you can see from the grease, I really got in there, and his brakes are fine. I promise you.”
Gavin looked at Chase and shook his head in the affirmative, “I think we’re okay, love.”
Chase walked over and put her arm around Gavin, giving him a hug, turned her eyes back to Nick and said, “I appreciate you getting up and coming over here so early to do that dirty work.”
Nick bowed his head and said, “It’s no trouble, Miss Chase. I’ll just grab my tools and be on my way.”
Chase then, “One last thing, Mr. Hargraves.”
He looked into her normally warm, beautiful eyes and saw they were hard and intense at this moment, as she said, “Check them again.”
With that she turned and went back into the house, patting her leg, a sign to Scooter that she wanted his company for a while. The dutiful pup obliged, picking up the green tennis ball he’d been playing with and followed her into the house.