Spirit Me Away

by Aaron Paul Lazar

  As I watched him sip his milk, an overwhelming sense of affection flooded through me.

  What will I do when I lose him?

  I pushed the fear away and helped him up from the table when he finished his milk. We climbed the stairs together and I said good night to my parents at their bedroom door.

  “I’m so glad you came,” my father said, hugging me hard.

  “Me, too, Dad.” I kissed my mother and padded with Shadow to my childhood bedroom. The dog tried to hop onto the bed, but his old legs weren’t strong enough. I hefted him up, pulled back the covers, and suddenly remembered I hadn’t called Elsbeth.

  I perched on the bedside, picked up the black phone from the nightstand and lifted the receiver. It was awfully late to call, but I knew that she’d be lying in bed, wide-awake with worry.

  “Hello?” She answered on the first ring.

  “Honey, it’s me. I’m here. Everything’s okay.”

  “I was worried sick, Gus. I thought you had an accident.” She quickly recovered when I explained what had happened, and switched gears. “Grandma Odette? Is she okay?”

  “She’s in a bad way, still in the ER. They sent us home.”

  “I’m so sorry, honey. Are you going back up in the morning?”

  “Yeah. As soon as visiting hours start. I think around eight. Oh, and Elsbeth?”

  “What is it, sweetie?”

  “I told her we got married. She opened her eyes for a minute, and I could tell she was pleased, even though she couldn’t speak. It was kind of special.”

  My grandmother loved Elsbeth and her twin brother, Siegfried, who had been my best friends since childhood. They stayed at Loon Harbor, my grandparents’ fishing camp in Maine, many summers in a row, and had endeared themselves to my grandparents. I couldn’t wait to see Sig. We’d been through a lot together.

  “I’m glad you told her, Gus. What did your parents say?”

  I hesitated. “I didn’t tell them yet. I’ll do it in the morning.”

  “It’s okay, sweetheart. You’ve got plenty of time.” She hesitated for a moment, as if unsure of herself. Finally, she asked, “Gus?”

  “Yes?”

  “Honey, I don’t want to upset you more. I know you’re stressed out because of your grandmother. But...”

  “But, what?”

  “Well, Valerie’s been acting crazy tonight. She saw someone on the street outside the building. It really upset her. I could hardly get a word out of her. She just kept checking the lock on the door and looking out the window. I wasn’t sure if it was something to do with her past or...”

  The monkey man, my brain screamed. My chest started to pound and I spoke rapidly.

  “Call Porter. I know it’s late, but he’ll want to know about this. Ask him if he’ll stay with you ‘til I get back. Can you do that?”

  “Sure, I guess. But why?”

  “Listen carefully. Tell him what Valerie saw. It might be the man who tried to rape her, remember? His real name is Nate, and he kinda looks like a monkey. You know, with leathery, wrinkled skin? He walked all hunched over and had really long arms.”

  “That’s the guy you called the monkey man?” she asked nervously.

  “Yeah. That’s him,” I said. “Oh, God. Maybe I should come home tonight. I saw him on the Commons the other day, honey. The bastard may be stalking us.”

  “No. You have to be there for your family, at least until your grandma is out of the woods. Call me tomorrow night, or sooner, if you can. I’ll let you know how it’s going. And I’ll get Porter to stay over, if it makes you feel better.”

  “It would. Have him call me, too, if you can. And check the door again. Make sure the deadbolt’s on.”

  “I will. Don’t worry, Gus. We’ll be fine.”

  “Can’t help it, love. I miss you so much.”

  “Me, too,” she said softly.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

  “Okay. But wait ‘til after ten. The Pops rehearsal goes ‘til nine-thirty. Sleep tight. Don’t let the bedbugs bite.”

  I laughed. It was what my grandmother had said to me whenever I’d slept in the big cabin with them at camp. “Will do. You, too. G’night.”

  “Night, Gus.”

  Chapter 39

  I hobbled down the porch stairs at quarter to seven in the morning and walked slowly across the field stretching between our house and the Marggranders’. My shin throbbed when I walked, but it felt a little better than yesterday.

  I’d called Elsbeth a half hour ago, even though it was early; I needed to know she was safe. Relieved to find she and Valerie were fine, she told me Porter had stayed with them all night. There were no more sightings of anyone resembling a simian creature in the area.

  The grass was still wet and my sneakers were soaked by the time I made it halfway to Siegfried’s house. Sig would catch the summer school bus at quarter past seven, and I wanted a chance to see him before we left for the hospital.

  Siegfried had suffered greatly as a teenager after recovering from a serious head trauma at age twelve. His family and mine almost always summered at my grandparents’ camp in Maine, and in one fateful summer, he’d collided while swimming with Mr. Baker’s boat. The accident that put him in a coma at age twelve stole a great deal from him. When he emerged from it after three long months, he’d lost his ability to walk, talk, and to do the simplest tasks. When he did speak, it was only in German, his first language. It took years for Siegfried to relearn English.

  Although he was eighteen now, his progress in school had been delayed four years. He’d recovered physically, had grown to a gangly six-foot-eight, and had finally made it to the tenth grade. He would probably have to attend high school and summer school for another two to three years before he could earn enough credits to graduate.

  I spent my high school years defending Sig from the bullies who taunted him when he struggled with school, with speech, and with social graces. Many a black eye or split lip followed. But I’d been proud of my wounds and had never regretted the fights when I’d defended my pal.

  One of the toughest parts about going to college in Boston had been leaving my best friend behind. Elsbeth, Siegfried, and I had spent most of our lives together, ambling down the dirt roads, riding horses, and sharing our deepest fears and dreams. The separation from Sig had felt visceral, almost as if a piece of our three-way entity was surgically removed.

  I knocked on the door and called through the screen, “Sig? You in there?”

  He bounded toward me, slammed the screen open, and pulled me into a bear hug.

  After a few seconds, he held me at arm’s length and looked into my eyes. “Gus? What are you doing, mein Freund? You should be in Boston, oder?

  “Yeah. But I had to come home. My grandmother’s sick. She’s in the hospital.”

  “Oh...I am very sorry,” he said, craning his head to look behind me. “But where is my sister?”

  “She has a big concert this week, buddy. The biggest ever. Didn’t she tell you about it?”

  The twins were on the phone two to three times per week. Elsbeth told me almost daily, how badly she longed for her brother’s company.

  “Ja. I remember now. It’s for the Pop. But I didn’t understand who this ‘Pop’ is?”

  “It’s the Pops, with an ‘s’. An orchestra, Sig. A pretty important one in Boston. She couldn’t back out of her performance.”

  “Ah,” the light dawned now. “She’ll play piano for them?”

  “Right,” I said.

  Siegfried glanced at his watch and looked anxiously toward the door. “I’ll miss the bus,” he said, grabbing his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder. “Auf gehts, walk with me.”

  “We’d better hurry,” I agreed.

  He hopped off the steps with a thud.

  “Jeez, Sig. Have you grown taller?”

  “Ja. I’m bigger than all the others now. Much bigger,” he laughed.

  “Do they still bother you
?” I asked gently.

  His face fell. “They don’t like me. They call me a...a retard.”

  “What?” I spluttered. “That’s ridiculous. You’re one of the smartest guys I know.”

  “I pass my tests now. Most of the time. And I have one friend. She is very nice. He smiled again. “She is very nice,” he repeated.

  “Does this nice girl have a name?” I teased, punching him lightly in the arm.

  He looked up, blushed, and nodded. “Ja. She is called Julia. She helps me study.”

  “Julia,” I said. “Very pretty name.”

  “Ja,” he whispered. “Pretty girl.”

  We walked along in comfortable silence for a few moments.

  When we were halfway to the bus stop, I said, “Sig? I have something to tell you.”

  He swung his long, blond ponytail over his shoulders and looked at me with his vibrant blue eyes. “I have something to tell you, too.”

  “You do?”

  “But you go first,” he said.

  “Okay. Here goes. I married your sister, back on May first.”

  His eyes sparkled and he smiled as if he already knew. “Ja? Is that so? Well, it’s about time.”

  I gawked at him. “You don’t seem surprised. Did she tell you?”

  “Natürlich, she is my twin.”

  I snorted a laugh. “She didn’t tell me you knew.”

  “Ja. I know.” He grinned from ear to ear. “We tell each other everything. You should know that, Gus.”

  We’d reached the bus stop, which was simply the dirt road at the end of his very long gravel driveway.

  “That makes us brothers-in-law,” I observed. “Pretty cool, huh?”

  He nodded and smiled. “Listen, I do not want you to tell Elsbeth you know this. But I cannot keep it inside.”

  “Okay.”

  “Promise?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “I mean you must really swear. She is not sure yet, but if it is true, she wants it to be a surprise.”

  “Sig! Come on. I promise.”

  “Pinky swear.”

  I laughed, but gave in. Just like when we were little kids, we locked our pinky fingers, shook, and finished by crossing our hearts.

  Sig grinned. “Okay. Good. Now you can’t tell.”

  “Tell what? Come on, you’re killing me.”

  “Ja, okay.” His face split in a huge smile. “I may be an uncle soon.”

  The bus trundled up the hill, ground to a halt, and opened the doors. I gawked at his back as he leapt up the steps and turned to wave to me.

  “What?” I shouted. I nearly boarded the old bus with him. “What did you say?”

  The driver signaled for me to back away and started to close the doors. Siegfried flashed an impish grin and waved.

  He said he might be an uncle.

  My heart began to flutter and I broke into a sweat. I watched the bus in a daze as it turned around in the driveway and headed down Sullivan Hill.

  Could Elsbeth be pregnant? Already?

  I took a few deep breaths, trying to absorb the news. It hit me like an enormous tidal wave, almost knocking me over. And then a huge grin spread over my face.

  Chapter 40

  I ambled toward home, this time following the dirt road that curved through the trees and fields between the Marggranders’ driveway to my family’s homestead. Wild cherry and black locust trees lined both sides of the road. Sparrows and goldfinches sang glorious refrains in the branches above and twittered gaily in the lustrous foliage that stretched to the sky.

  The possible news of my impending fatherhood filled me with incredible joy, but was quickly followed by panic. We’d always been so careful about taking precautions. Well, most of the time.

  A baby?

  Am I ready?

  How will we manage? We’re only halfway to our undergrad degrees. How can we afford it? Diapers and a crib and a stroller and...

  I began to worry in earnest. The mourning doves cooing in the trees nearby seemed to echo my sentiments. Plaintive calls from the birds wafted in and out of the branches above, and I plodded homeward, realizing it wasn’t set in stone yet. “She wasn’t sure,” he’d said. “Maybe,” he’d said. Before I started buying a crib, I needed to wait. If it were true, she’d tell me in her own time. And if so, I wanted her to be able to surprise me with the news. There was nothing more disappointing than keeping a sweet secret to share with someone, and finding out he or she already knew about it.

  I turned a corner, surprising a fawn and her mother who raised their heads to stare at me. I’d interrupted them nibbling blackberries from bushes on the side of the road. I stopped and watched their ribs move in and out, breathing and staring, breathing, and staring. With a loud snort, the mother suddenly bounded away toward the field. I felt strangely alone when they left.

  I wandered over to the bushes to pick some blackberries, having missed them in Boston. There weren’t too many berry bushes in the Boston Public Garden or the Boston Common. Plump and sweet, their tangy, sweet flavor lingered on my lips and summoned memories of hot summer days when my father and I had picked buckets full of berries for my mother’s pies.

  I couldn’t help but think about being a father. If it were true, or when it happened for real, would I be as good a dad to my child as my father had been to me? Would I take him to games, or take her sledding? Would we camp out in the woods, and toast marshmallows? Would we plant beans together in the spring, and pick apples together in the fall?

  I pictured myself holding the hand of a little girl or boy, walking out to the barn with the toddler, introducing him or her to the kittens and horses. I imagined wandering through the gardens, introducing our little one to green beans or strawberries. Somehow, the idea was incredibly exciting.

  Maybe I could be a good father.

  I was almost home. I glanced at the old Greek Revival farmhouse nestled at the end of our long, winding driveway. The green barn stood proudly behind it, bordered by hedges of lilacs and white post and board fences. My mother’s flower gardens erupted with vibrant colors. Morning glories wound around fence posts and climbed up the porch trellises, bursting with sky blue and brilliant magenta hues. Scarlet bee balm stretched tall and strong in the corner of the porch steps. She’d edged the garden with white alyssum this year. They burgeoned to a widespread perfumed carpet. I breathed deeply, finding the scent intoxicating.

  I wanted to call Elsbeth back and ask her if she was really pregnant, but I’d sworn to Sig that I’d keep the news quiet. And why hadn’t she told me? How could she keep such a huge secret?

  Could I do it? Could I keep such a thing inside me?

  I steeled myself. I’d have to try. For Elsbeth’s sake. It would be the unselfish way to handle this, although the idea of the whole thing still shot electrical fireworks inside me.

  Climbing the steps two at a time, I burst into the kitchen, feeling renewed and hopeful.

  A plateful of eggs sat before my father. With one forkful suspended in the air, he smiled at me.

  I grinned. Dad looked much better this morning.

  “There you are. We wondered where you were off to so early,” he said.

  I sat down, poured a large glass of orange juice, and drained half of it in one gulp. “Went to see Sig. He’s in summer school, so I thought I’d catch him early.”

  “Oh, that’s nice,” my mother said. “I’m glad you got to see him. I know he misses you two terribly.” She turned from the stove with a spatula in her hand. “Hungry, honey?”

  “Starving.”

  She set a plate of eggs, toast, and sausage before me, and I dug in. “Did you call the hospital?”

  “Yep,” my father mumbled, “An hour ago. Gram’s doing better. She’s breathing without the oxygen this morning.”

  I waited to reply until I’d chewed and swallowed, somehow hearing my mother’s voice in my head, don’t speak with your mouth full, Gus. “That’s fantastic.” Shadow ambled toward me. He sat at
my feet and turned his big, sad eyes upward. I tore off a piece of toast and surreptitiously fed it to him.

  My mother saw it, and reprimanded me. “Gus, the vet says he’s overweight. No table scraps.”

  “I know. Sorry, Mum. Hey, these eggs are great! How do you make them so good?”

  She laughed, sat down, and placed a paper napkin on her lap. “Flattery will get you everywhere, young man.”

  My father grumbled and frowned at the newspaper he just opened.

  “What’s wrong, Dad?”

  “Boston. That darned city you live in. That’s what’s wrong.”

  “What about it?” I said with a smirk. I loved Beantown. There wasn’t much he could say to persuade me otherwise.

  “They’ve been losing young women in droves, Gus. Sixteen women have been abducted in the past two months. Right in your city, Gus. Not one of them has been found.”

  I frowned. I’d heard about missing women on the news recently, but hadn’t had time to pay attention to the details.

  A chill ran through me.

  Could this be related to the slave ring we ran up against?

  I pictured Ike, Jarvis, Nate, and their network. Ike and Jarvis were dead. But we’d seen Nate in the park near our apartment, there was no doubt about it. And he had friends who’d driven to the yellow house in that second black sedan. Their tentacles might have spread across the entire city.

  “And look here. The same thing has happened in Pittsburgh and Baltimore. It’s alarming, son. I wish you two would just come home and go to Eastman. You know it’s the best music school in the world.”

  I managed a smile, pouring more juice. “But Dad, you have to be accepted at Eastman to go there. We didn’t get in, remember?” It was a sore point for Elsbeth and me, because we’d really wanted to go to Eastman.

  We ate in silence for a few moments as my father rustled the paper and shared the world news with us.

  Finally, I screwed up my courage. “Not to change the subject, but I have something to tell you. It’s...it’s pretty big.”

  My father put down the paper and looked at me. “Well? Don’t keep us in suspense.”