[The History Mystery 01.0] Time and Again Page 5

  Merrideth didn’t respond. She was already huffing and puffing.

  Chapter 5

  Merrideth raced to the answering machine in the kitchen as soon as they got home. There were no flashing lights, which meant zero messages. Shoulders slumped, she kept her back to Abby.

  “Whew!” Abby lifted her damp hair off her neck. “I’m going to take a shower.”

  Merrideth looked in the living room before turning toward the stairs. “Kit Kat, Chippy, where are you?” The cats came galloping down the stairs, and Merrideth scooped them up and went to the living room.

  Abby followed her. “Man, I sure am hot and sweaty,” she hinted. “I can’t wait to get in that shower. But I will if you want to go first.”

  “I’m going to watch TV.” Merrideth flopped onto the sofa. The cats squirmed and tried to get away.

  “I must smell like a pig,” Abby continued. “I’m going to use some of my new kiwi-scented shampoo. I have plenty if you want to borrow some.”

  “No thanks. I hate washing my hair.”

  Well, she had tried. So much for the I’m-an-older-girl-and-you-should-let-me-be-your-role- model ploy. There was always the bribery technique, but wouldn’t offering more Kit Kat bars be contributing to the obesity of a minor? Couldn’t she smell herself? Maybe not. She should just say it. But how could you tell another human being, “You stink. Really bad. You should take a shower. Right away. And again tomorrow and the next day. And by the way, get that cat fur off your sweaty arms.”

  It wasn’t her job, was it? After all, she had come here to teach English and math, not personal hygiene. Abby sighed. Feeling like a coward, she left her student and started up the stairs.

  Knowing she was just going to get hot again, Abby resumed her exploration of the house after she had showered. At least it would be clean sweat. She had hoped that after the moment of bonding she had sensed earlier, she would be able to coax Merrideth to come along. But she was “too tired” and besides, her “favorite TV show” was on. So Abby continued on alone.

  The first thing she checked out was the dark pantry staircase. She came prepared this time with the high-powered flashlight her dad had given her as she left home for college. “Jesus is the light of the world,” he had said with a chuckle. “But this will come in handy, too.”

  The stairs were thick with dust and cobwebs. Pat’s great-aunt Ruth had undoubtedly been too frail to climb them in her later years. When Abby got to the top she tried the door, but it wouldn’t budge. Whether it was locked or just stuck, there was no use expending all her energy shoving at it. She would have to try it from the other side. She closed her eyes and pictured the layout of the upper floor. If she had it right, the empty room next to hers was on the other side of the door.

  She went cautiously back down the narrow steps to the pantry and then up the main staircase to the second floor. She knew there weren’t any extraneous doors in her room. And since Pat and Merrideth’s doors were open, she poked her head in each of them long enough to see there were none there either. Nor was there much else. She felt a pang of something like guilt. Pat had not expended as much effort redecorating them as she had the room she’d given Abby.

  Just as she had figured, the spare room did have an extra door. Just not the right one. When she opened it, sauna-like air—black, hot, and dry—rushed at her face. The stairwell was dark, the wooden steps narrow and dusty. But they led up, apparently to the attic, not down to the pantry. She closed the door, determined to explore that another time.

  There were no other doors in the room, not even a closet. But there was a beat up old cedar wardrobe. She smiled, hoping against hope, as she always did whenever she saw one, that it would lead to Narnia. As usual, it didn’t. There were only a few tangled wire hangers and a safety pin.

  But what if the secret was behind the wardrobe, not in it? She went to the side of it and shoved until she got it away from the wall enough to see that her theory was correct. A small door was built into the wall behind it. She pushed the wardrobe until it was out of the way.

  The lock turned easily and the door only squeaked a little when she opened it. She could see all the way to the pantry below and hear Merrideth’s TV program loud and clear.

  It was only a little mystery solved, but she was pleased. She called out, but Merrideth didn’t hear her, or pretended not to.

  “Hey, Merrideth, let’s play on your computer.”

  And Merrideth, moving surprisingly fast, came pounding up the stairs. “Don’t touch it. It’s mine. My dad bought it for me.”

  “I didn’t touch your computer.” Abby followed Merrideth into the room. “Well, I e-mailed a few friends last night. Sorry, I should have asked first.”

  Merrideth took the seat in front of the computer, and Abby sat down next to her. Kit Kat appeared suddenly and jumped onto her lap.

  “My dad got me lots of games,” Merrideth said, pointing to the icons dotting the screen. “They cost a lot of money.”

  “That’s for sure. What do you like best?”

  “This one, I guess.” Merrideth clicked on the Bubble Town icon and the screen filled with colorful little bubble faces.

  “That’s a good one,” Abby said, setting the cat back on the floor next to Chippy, who had just joined them. “Kate and I used to get so caught up playing it that we would almost forget to go to class. But there are also a lot of educational programs here we could use for our studies. You have a cool multi-media encyclopedia and dictionary.”

  “Boring,” Merrideth replied without taking her eyes off the screen. She used the mouse to shoot a group of smiling pink faces, which disappeared with sighs and giggles. Next she aimed at some smirking green faces.

  “And a typing tutor program.”

  “Already know how to type.”

  “How about Music Appreciation?”

  Merrideth rolled her eyes. “Please,” she said, dragging out the word sarcastically. “All educational games are stupid and boring.”

  “Well, that one about architecture is educational and you like it.”

  Merrideth turned to stare blankly at her.

  “You know, Beautiful Houses.” Abby explained. “Your mom said you always play that.”

  “I don’t play that,” she said, brushing her bangs out of her eyes. “But it’s always showing up on the screen.”

  “Let’s take a look at it,” Abby said.

  Merrideth grudgingly minimized her Bubble Town game in progress and clicked on the Beautiful Houses icon. Immediately, the program flared to life. It featured homes of every type, from Beverly Hills mansions to thatched cottages in Ireland.

  “If you could have your dream house, what would it be?”

  “I don’t know, but it wouldn’t be anything like this dump,” Merrideth said.

  Abby picked up Chippy to make her quit pawing her shoelaces. “Once your mom gets this place fixed up, it will be great.”

  “But it will still be in Nowhereville.”

  “Well, I think it’s time I explored the kitchen,” Abby said. “Your mom would probably appreciate a hot dinner when she gets home from work.”

  “Something smells delicious,” Pat called when she got home that evening.

  Abby popped her head out of the kitchen. “Hi. I hope you like stir-fry. It’s a variation Mom and I invented.”

  “That sounds wonderful, but I never intended for you to have to cook,” Pat said with a small frown.

  “That’s okay. I like to cook.”

  Pat laid her purse on the hall table. “Where’s Merrideth? I don’t hear the TV.”

  “She’s upstairs on the computer.”

  They heard her clomping down the stairs, and then she arrived breathless at the kitchen door. “You won’t believe what I just found on my computer.” Then seeing Pat, she said, “Oh, hi, Mom. Abby, you gotta come see. This house,” she said, gesturing expansively, “is on my computer.”

  “Just a minute, Merrideth,” Abby said. “I’m forgetting th
e stir part of stir-fry.” She hurried back to the kitchen with Pat and Merrideth trailing after her.

  “Mom, you won’t believe how weird this neighborhood is! There’s a crazy old woman who lives down the road, and she has a really strange garden. It’s kind of pretty. And there’s this retarded boy that lives in an old train depot.”

  “So you went exploring the neighborhood.”

  “Yeah. There’s nothing else to do,” Merrideth said.

  Abby hid a smile at the way she suddenly remembered to make her voice sound bored.

  “I’m not sure Michael is mentally handicapped, Merrideth. And Mrs. Arnold isn’t crazy—just kind of eccentric…and very old.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Maybe you could go visit her sometime, Pat. She was friends with your Great Aunt Ruth.”

  “I’ve been planning to, and I will.” Pat sighed. “As soon as I get the time.”

  “You forgot to tell your mom the best part, Merrideth.”

  “What? You mean the part where we almost had a heart attack because we thought Michael had been run over by a train. Or do you mean the part where we almost got attacked by a pit bull?”

  “No, what Mrs. Arnold told us about. That this used to be a regular town. It was named after a man called Colonel Miles, and this was his house,” Abby explained.

  “Well, how about that,” Pat said. “This must have been an important house. You would never know it from seeing it as it is now.”

  “Mrs. Arnold said this house has a soul,” Abby said, grinning.

  “Maybe it does.” Smiling, Pat stroked the faded wallpaper. “Like they always say—if only these walls could talk.”

  “Yeah, and there used to be trellises on the front porch,” Merrideth added. “With pink roses growing up them. There’s a picture of it on the computer upstairs.”

  “What do you mean?” Pat said.

  “I found it on that program, Beautiful Houses. That’s what I was trying to tell you.”

  Abby smiled kindly at Merrideth and then told Pat, “The program features houses from around the world. She must have found one in the style of this house.”

  “She is standing right here. And she found this house, not one like it.” Merrideth stormed off.

  Abby’s bedroom was on the uncomfortable side of warm. But even so, in a way she was glad the house had no air conditioner. It was sort of nice to lie there listening to the natural sounds of the night. Crickets chirped enthusiastically. And down the road, the pit bull barked twice, and was silent. The curtains fluttered, and that soft sound blended with the creaks and murmurs of the old house.

  Other people on long-ago nights had slept here. Perhaps the crickets wouldn’t have seemed so loud for them, for there would have been other, town sounds—horses’ hooves, wagon wheels, church bells, the depot whistle, low voices, footsteps on board walks. Abby wondered what Colonel Miles and his family had been like.

  She didn’t realize she had fallen asleep until she started awake at the sound of footsteps, quiet and careful, in the hall. Merrideth, going down the hall to the bathroom? But then came ten tiny beeps. Someone was using the phone just outside her room. She didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but the house was quiet and Merrideth’s voice was clear.

  “Hi, Dad. It’s me. Sorry, I didn’t know it was so late. I waited and waited, but you didn’t call…. I don’t know. Okay, I guess…. Yeah. Say hi to Sylvia too I guess…. Yeah. She got here two days ago. And she’s not a babysitter… But exercise is so boring and… Dad, you don’t understand. There aren’t any health clubs around here. This is Hicksville and… I told you she’s not my babysitter…. She knows about a lot of stuff, but why should I spend my summer studying? I bet all my friends at home are hanging out and doing fun stuff…. Yeah, all right, but when can I come stay with you?”

  The hall was silent as Merrideth listened to her father’s explanations. At last, she replied, her voice small and resigned, “Oh. Well, bye.”

  Abby heard the phone settle into its cradle, and Merrideth’s footsteps—more a shuffle than a stealthy tiptoe this time—and then a door closing. Poor kid. It must be tough to be so far away from her dad. Merrideth had refused to talk to her all evening, and Abby had finally left her to her game of Bubble Town.

  She turned over and tried to get sleepy again. Just as she felt herself floating away, the blue light was back, insistently streaming into her room again. Funny, she hadn’t heard Merrideth come back.

  She got out of bed and went to check the computer across the hall. Yep, the houses were doing their slide show again. Why was it so difficult for Merrideth to admit she liked an educational game?

  Chapter 6

  “What do you know? Actual traffic.” Merrideth stared out the front window where she sat supposedly reading. “That silver Camaro we saw just went by. Funny, he doesn’t look like the kind of guy who would say the words we heard coming from under that car.”

  From the other windowsill in the living room, having gotten there before Kit Kat, Abby looked up from her Bible. “Okay, enough excitement. Time to get back to your reading.” For about the millionth time.

  “I don’t know why we have to waste time reading. I want to use my computer.”

  “Quit acting like I’m torturing you.” She took several calming breaths. “Merrideth, if the only thing I accomplish this summer is to get you to read a book, I’ll feel like I’ve been a success.” Although it was unlikely her college supervisor would agree.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I already heard this.”

  Abby was just ready to resort to bribery again, when Merrideth picked her book up. She had brought along Jacob Have I Loved because it had been one of her favorites when she was about Merrideth’s age. She turned back to her Bible reading for the day in Romans eight, and pondered the meaning of verse eighteen. She heard Merrideth turning pages but carefully kept her eyes on her own reading.

  “There, I finished chapter one,” Merrideth said with satisfaction. “Nineteen more chapters to go. That’s 202 more pages.”

  “Sorry, reading time is not over.”

  “But this is boring.”

  “Maybe it seems boring to you because you haven’t gotten past the author’s introduction. It’s not the most exciting part, but you have to read it before you get to the action.”

  Merrideth sighed dramatically, and even without looking, Abby knew she was rolling her eyes. She went back to Romans, and soon she heard Merrideth flipping pages.

  “But I don’t get it. Who’s Jacob? I looked through the whole book, and there are no characters named Jacob.”

  “It’s an allusion to Jacob and Esau in the Bible.”

  Merrideth dropped the book as if it were contaminated. “I’m not reading a religious book.”

  Abby’s eyes widened in surprise. Before she could think of what to say, Merrideth asked, “Who were Jacob and Esau?”

  “They were the twin sons of Isaac. ‘Jacob have I loved’ is a quote. God said it when he blessed Jacob. He went on to say, ‘Esau have I hated.’ The author wants you to think about that while you’re reading the book.”

  “Does it have anything to do with Caroline and Louise?”

  “They’re twins, aren’t they?”

  Merrideth found her place and began to read again. Abby breathed easier. After a while, she closed her Bible, leaned back against the side of the window, and smiled at the sound of Merrideth steadily turning pages.

  Abby went to the window and looked out. Merrideth didn’t seem to notice, even when the mail carrier’s mini-truck stopped at the mailbox in front. After it had gone around the bend, Abby saw Michael scuffling along down the dusty road. He was carrying something covered in what looked like foil that sparkled in the sunlight.

  Three boys came out of the trees and joined him on the road. It was nice to see that Michael had other friends his age to play with. Then, one of his erstwhile friends shoved him and Michael almost fell. Now that they were closer, she realized that what she had tak
en for friendly smiles were not that at all. Another boy grabbed whatever it was Michael was carrying, while the third began gleefully pounding on his arm.

  Abby tugged at the window, but it was heavy and swollen shut. Anger gave her added strength, and suddenly the window flew up. The boys were chanting, “Michael is a retard. Tardo, tardo. Michael is a retard.”

  Fury bubbled up in her throat and she couldn’t speak. At last, she sputtered, “Stop that. You, stop that,” and ran to the front door.

  Frowning, Merrideth put her book down and followed after Abby.

  The three tormentors were gathered around what turned out to be a plate of cookies Michael had been carrying, and they were stuffing them in their mouths as fast as they could. Seeing Michael’s avenging angels come barreling out the front door, the boys dropped the plate and made a hasty retreat. Abby shouted for them to stop, but they kept going, one boy turning to grin at her.

  “He’s just a little kid,” Merrideth shouted to their backs. “Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?”

  “Actually, they are his size, Merrideth. But I just can’t understand how boys that little can be so mean.”

  “Girls are just as bad,” Merrideth said. “They think they’re so special, so above everyone else. They think they can call you anything they want. It’s their right in this world to put you down, as if you didn’t already know you’re a loser. They just can’t be happy until they make you cry.”

  Abby blinked and looked closely at Merrideth. Her face was red and she looked close to tears.

  Merrideth knelt beside Michael, who was valiantly trying to wipe the dirt off the two remaining cookies. “Good for you. They didn’t make you cry, did they, Michael?”

  He held out the plate to Abby. “Mrs. Arnold made these cookies for you.”

  The pink glass plate looked like an antique, its delicate beauty now marred by a large chip. The cookies were heart-shaped and frosted in pink to match the plate. They would have been pretty except for the gravel and dirt embedded in the icing.