More Than Everything
Page 27
Mr. Edwards made a hum that suggested otherwise. “And there’s the Red Cat Cafe. Be sure to visit. That’s where my daughter works. Best coffee in town.”
Only coffee in town, probably, thought Liam.
“How long does it take to get to this house?” he asked.
“Oh, not long. In better weather I would’ve suggested we walk the distance. I understand it’s a popular walk for schoolchildren in town.”
That was an odd thing to hear. “Why are kids walking to my great-uncle’s house?”
Those bushy eyebrows rose again. “Cooper’s Folly has been the talk of the town for generations. You really don’t know anything about it, do you?”
“I really don’t, but you’re beginning to worry me. Why is it called Cooper’s Folly?”
The land had changed and changed again; after a few turns, lush fields gave way to pasture dotted with black cows, then to trees, and now tall untidy bushes, bristling with branches and sharp-edged leaves, like squat guards patrolling the side of the road. Mr. Edwards pulled beside a gate which had been hidden by the overgrowth, like something from a fairy tale…or a horror movie.
“Perhaps it’s better if I just show you,” he said to Liam, removing a thick keyring from the center console of the car. “Perhaps seeing it would be easier than explaining it to you.”
The gate’s lock rasped and complained, its bars reminding Liam of some ancient prison. An attempt had been made to rust-proof the heavy wrought iron, but layer after layer of old paint was flaking off, and the disturbance of being unlocked was throwing up a flurry of black and orange. The untouched dirt on either side of the gate showed that no one had been through in some time. Vines had begun to strangle some of the bars of the gate, extending themselves from the chaos of shrubbery to either side.
The appearance was of the most desolate abandonment. An appropriate symbol for his father’s side of the family.
Each side of the gate was decorated with a single letter, a monogram, an ornamental S. “S, instead of C?” asked Liam. “S for Silas?”
Mr. Edwards worked at the lock until it finally gave with a metallic groan, letting the key turn heavily clockwise. Without speaking, he threw the gate open; the vines kept it from swinging completely, and in fact began to pull it closed again, but Liam quickly stepped up and kept the gate at arm’s length, so they wouldn’t crash onto Mr. Edwards and get his suit dirty. “You first,” he told the lawyer.
“Thank you. I really should have come out here earlier to prepare things for you, or at least sent someone to oil the gates.” He brushed his hands off with his handkerchief. “Mr. Cooper, if you’ll come this way.”
The drive curved off, so that the view was blocked by more of these ferociously untended shrubs. Something rustled within them, something that moved fast and low; Liam wondered if it was a rabbit. The drive turned from dirt to gravel, and their feet crunched against it. As they drew closer to that curve, Liam found that his breath was coming faster, his heart beating in anticipation. What was it? What cursed and unwanted gift had Great-Uncle Silas tried to bestow on them, that his father had refused…that he hadn’t even told his family about?
That was the strangest part of all this. It wasn’t just his father’s refusal of his inheritance. It was the fact he had never mentioned it to Liam, to Judah, or even to Mama.
“Now, I should warn you,” began Mr. Edwards, but Liam was tired of waiting. He hurried ahead, feet pounding against the gravel, until he had come around the curve and saw—
And saw—
“Oh my god,” he said.
Mr. Edwards came up behind him, puffing, and Liam felt a momentary guilt for making the old man run. Now he did put his hand on Liam’s shoulder, but more to support himself, than to support Liam. Although Liam could’ve used it.
The drive continued, sloping down until it encircled a defunct fountain, dry and so covered in dead vines it was impossible to tell what the statue in the middle of it represented. And past the fountain?
Past the fountain, the vines had continued their work, creeping up stone walls and green copper drainpipes, unfurling thick leaves to catch the sunlight, until they had nearly covered their prey. Somehow the columns jutting up to support the portico had been spared this botanical assault, but what looked like a hundred windows to either side peered down at him, the ivy leaves like the eyelashes of unblinking eyes, a sleepy giant considering whether to welcome him in or not.
“It’s… It’s a mansion,” said Liam, staring up, his breath hardly able to form the words. “A mansion?”
The hand squeezed his shoulder.
“Liam Cooper,” said Mr. Edwards, “Welcome to Superbia Springs.”
Find out more in Spring Forward, now available on Amazon!
Afterword
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