Chapter Two
1
“Ivan Joshua Harvey! You get your buns down here right now; your supper is getting cold!” Mrs. Harvey shouted in a very exasperated tone directed towards her seventeen-year-old son.
Ivan sat on his bed, up the stairs, down the hall, in his room, reading a Stephen King book that he had smuggled past his parents from the library earlier that day. Mr. White had helped with this. Ivan liked Mr. White, the childrens' services desk librarian. Although Ivan’s parents did not like him reading Stephen King, H.P. Lovecraft, Dean Koontz, John Grisham and other such horror and suspense masters, Ivan loved to read masterpieces by those authors more than he liked anything in the entire galaxy. Moreover, Mr. White didn't believe in keeping books from kids and teens. Therefore, Mr. White helped Ivan get the books he wanted to read. Ivan placed his bookmark in the book, and slipped it inside his pillowcase before heading downstairs to the dinner table, where his family sat waiting.
“How nice of you to finally join us.” Mr. Harvey’s eyes glared down on his son, his face looking rather stern with pure annoyance. Ivan hung his head and muttered a quick apology before sitting down next to his mother at the table.
“What took you so long Ivey?” Four-year-old Christina asked her older brother.
“I told you to stop calling me that!” Ivan snapped, not knowing why exactly he was getting mad. Perhaps, it was because of the non-stop questions that his four-year-old baby sister asked constantly throughout the day. Maybe it was because she found out about his Stephen King book under his pillow earlier that day, when she had obviously been snooping around his room, and then threatened to tell his mom and dad about it. Ivan did not know if she had or if she hadn't told such things to their parents, but the mere thought of his parents finding out what he was reading was enough to make his stomach do back flips, cartwheels, hurtles and any other kinds of gymnastics one could possible think up. On the other hand, perhaps, it was just the fact that she was the baby sister who got everything she ever wanted… except for the pony, of course.
“Ivan, don’t talk to your sister like that,” Mrs. Harvey reprimanded, waving a fork at her son.
“Yes mother. Did you hear that there is a new family in town?” Ivan asked, antsy to change the subject.
“Yes, Thelma called earlier today and told me all about it. I swear that woman knows everything that goes on in this town.”
“I thought I told you to stop talking to her, dear,” Mr. Harvey interrupted his wife, looking at her with wide eyes. “She sticks her nose in other people’s business… which is exactly where it shouldn’t be... just so she can have something to talk about that makes her feel more popular and knowledgeable than others.”
“Oh, Hennery, she’s not like that. She just… notices things. That’s all.” Mrs. Harvey was quick to jump to Thelma’s defense, mainly for fear of her gossiping about them. She drove several people out of town due to her constant gibber jabber.
“Anyways...” Ivan said, picking at his food. His wandering thoughts were partway in the book he had just been reading and partway about the newcomers. “I was hoping I might be able to go there and greet them tonight?” he asked, stuffing a piece of broccoli in his mouth, nearly done with his food already. He was more than excited to meet them.
“Tonight? Ivan, it's Monday... A school night.”
“I won’t be too long, mom!” Ivan protested. He'd wanted to meet these people. Who would move into the old Lovehart Mansion? Most said it was bad luck to move into a foreclosed house. Those who didn’t, knew that it was expensive and worn down. No doubt, they were from out of state... but which state? New York? California? Oklahoma? Ivan always had wanted to visit Oklahoma for a week or two. Ivan’s mind wondered relentlessly.
Maybe they were rich and famous… or explorers from a completely different country… maybe they had some flax-golden tales to spin. Ivan’s heart longed achingly for a story from someone who had not always lived in that town. They said people did not make it out, if Thelma didn't drive them away. But, Ivan was dead set on getting as far away from this place as possible. Maine was where he was going to go. He did not know why, but he had always wanted to live there. So one day soon, when he was eighteen and had graduated high school, he was gone. Gone, gone, gone. Yep, he was going to make it outta Riverwolf Pass if it killed him. That's how serious he was about escaping.
“I expect you to be back by ten, no later,” his mother said, giving in to Ivan’s plea. She figured if she didn't, his adventurous side would take over and he would end up sneaking out and going there anyways. In which case, Thelma would have even more to gossip about.
“Thanks mom,” Ivan said, standing up immediately. He kissed her on the cheek as he rushed to grab his coat, which was hanging by the door.
“Ten o'clock, remember,” his mother called after him.
“I won’t be late,” Ivan promised and slammed the door unintentionally. He rapidly searched his pockets for his car keys and started up the red Chevy Lumina he'd bought that past summer. He started up the road to the old Lovehart Mansion.
2
Mr. White arrived home shortly after seven. As he walked up the stairs, he caressed the hand carved railing, pausing for a sweet moment to admire its quality. His parents built the house when they were in their early twenties. They'd tragically died in a car accident not but five months ago. The untimely death was hard for Mr. White to deal with, but he had the help of his loving fiancé, Gracey, to help him through it.
The one thing he'd inherited, the house, meant almost everything to him. He intended to tend to its every need, keeping it perfectly preserved. He and Gracey had moved in three weeks after the death of his parents and there they planned to stay. In June, they would get married in the backyard, just like his mother and father had. In a couple years, they would have kids and raise them in the house. Then they would grow old together and enjoy watching their grandchildren play in the yard, laughing so merrily that it would bring tears to both their eyes. Yes, they would do all that in the house, the glorious house he had grown up in.
The sun had already set behind the mountains when he stuck the key into the keyhole to unlock his door. Dinner, left by Gracey, sat on the table, still warm and covered in tinfoil. Mr. White cursed under his breath; he'd hoped to catch a moment with the love of his life before she had to leave. It did not matter that much, she would be back around nine. She'd only headed to the coffee shop to grade papers for a while. Teaching high school students English was difficult and kept her on her toes. Nevertheless, she did it, and loved it, and that was what mattered.
Help by the Beatles played in the background as Mr. White ate his meal, watching the little white mutt that they had picked up on the side of the road at the dump one day, beg for food. After finishing his dinner, Mr. White sat down in his lounge chair, and read – for the millionth time – Interview with the Vampire by Anne Rice.
3
Thelma and her family sat in silence. They did not talk through dinner, except for the reason to ask someone to pass the mashed potatoes. Even with the modern-day ways, Thelma was a strict believer that children should speak only when spoken to, attend public school and get straight A's, and no one should ever, ever, ever speak at the table. Doing that would just be bad manners.
Her parents only wanted what was best for her. They had only wanted her to be the best little girl she could be... though, they didn't initiate that in the best way. Thelma had always felt like an outcast, with her giant glasses, her bulky braces, and the constant watch of her overbearing parents. Until she was in high school, her parents wouldn't allow her to attend sleep overs. When she had friends over, they would constantly check up on them every few minutes. While she was sleeping, her parents would peek their heads in and check on her. She wasn't going to make that mistake with her children. She always made sure that her children attended the most social events and joined the most social clubs. She respected their privacy and never checked
on them while they were sleeping or on sleep overs. The most she ever dared to do was forbid teenagers of the opposite sex to be in her childrens' rooms with the door closed. Though girlfriends and boyfriends were welcome over for studies in the living room and dinner at nighttime.
Thelma looked across the table at her husband, Peter. His mind seemed elsewhere, distant. She wondered what it could possibly be and she turned her head to her oldest son, Kurt. He was a wild-child, though Thelma never knew so. Kurt would be out with his buddies after school, riding dirt bikes around the old forgotten dirt roads and mountains in Riverwolf Pass. He would hand in his homework late, skip classes, and smoke on school property. However, Thelma never found out about these things because Kurt was smart, or possibly just good at being deviant. He knew how to hack into the school computer mainframe to change his grades; he knew how many classes he could and could not skip every month; and he knew what to tell his mom so she would not get suspicious.
Thelma’s other son, Gerald, on the other hand, was completely the opposite. He would go to all the school socials and love it. He spent his free time at the library studying (And not “studying” with girls, like Kurt did.) He also knew how to get along with Kurt, just simply cover for him. That was all Gerald ever had to do.
Then there was Thelma’s nineteen-year-old daughter. She lived in town and worked at the local movie rental. She was just like her mother. From looks to personality she was the spitting image of her mother. Her name was Dorothy and although she was not part of the town council, she loved to tag along with her mother to the meetings occasionally. She had not missed a day of school since she was four and had the chicken pox, a reasonable excuse to miss school. She went to the school regularly to give pep talks to the cheerleaders and help them organize their routines... since she had been a star cheerleader herself, this was appreciated and expected of her. She also would attend all the football and basketball games to show her support for the school. Yep, a darn-tootin' spitting image of her mother.
After Dinner, a conversation took place about the new family in the old Lovehart Mansion. Thelma babbled on about how she is looking forward to meeting them the next day. Peter nodded while he read his paper and muttered a “yes, dear,” once in a while, scarcely paying attention to the gibberish that came out of his wife’s mouth. Kurt went to his room and later sneaked out to meet some friends and friends of friends at the railroad tracks to drink some beer and party all night until school the next day. Gerald studied until eleven and was asleep by midnight, aware of Kurt’s doings, but not saying a word to anyone.
At precisely 8:30PM, Dorothy called her mother, like she did every evening. They rambled on about the new family moving into Riverwolf Pass. They made plans to go there tomorrow in the early morning. They planned to bring the school's new brochures that they had provided. They planned out their speech. Later that night, Dorothy baked cookies to welcome the new family into their hometown.
4
Preacher Nelsen entered his house alone. He was not used to being alone. When he was alone, he was jittery and nervous. Images of horror movies he had seen as a child danced in his head, hopping around from one thought to another. Jason was who scared him the most. Jason from the Friday the 13th movies that his older brother had made him watch when he was far too young. He knew it was foolish, getting jumpy at all these thoughts. After all, he was a grown man with a family and all. He thought about his family to sooth his troubled mind.
His sixteen-year-old son, Hector, had gone away on a camping trip with his friends. Preacher Nelsen had made sure that there were no girls along on this trip, just his four best buddies, Norm, Max, Benjamin, and Willard. They were going camping at the Riverwolf Pass campground, not too far away from the town of Riverwolf Pass itself. About a thirty minute drive if you did not speed through town, which was a nearly guaranteed speeding ticket if you did. His daughter, Celeste, was ten years old and away on her first Girl Scout camping trip in an entirely different state. She left on the bus this morning for Georgia, nervous and excited with all her friends. Preacher Nelsen’s wife, Katherine, was with her quilting club, and would be home before long.
Preacher Nelsen sat down in his lusciously squishy chair in front of the TV and turned on the seven-o’clock news.
5
Hiram arrived home at 7:30 that night. He had worked at the general store all day. It had been a rather slow day with nothing much to do at the store. He'd swept it three times just because he was bored and had no costumers. That was typical for a Monday. Tomorrow there would be a few more people, and Wednesday there would be a crowd of people there. Thursday would be slow until school let out when the kids came to buy his fifty-cent candy. Friday would seem to last forever. He always took the weekends off.
His wife was waiting for him, cooking in the kitchen. He entered the room and gave her a quick peck on the cheek.
“Your son called for you today, got himself in trouble again, Hiram,” she said and stirred the creamy sauce she was cooking.
“What happened now?” Hiram asked, sounding rather tired indeed.
“Got in a fight at the bar down in Bristol. He’s in jail, wants you to bail him out.”
“I’ll go down there after supper,” Hiram promised and sat down at the table, waiting for his meal. His wife jibber-jabbered on about how she was grateful that he was going to bail their son, Bobby, out of jail and how if he was left there he would resent them forever, and Thelma would gossip relentlessly about it.
Hiram ate his food and afterward got in his car and headed down to Bristol. He thought about the long talk that he would soon have with his son.
6
Ivan pulled into the old Lovehart Mansion’s driveway and parked his car. He looked around for another one, but didn't see any. He stood there, in front of his car, for a minute, looking at the old mansion as he thought to himself that a lot of work had been done on the house since he'd last visited a few years ago. His footsteps wandered back and forth in a shuffling type manner. He looked up at the gigantic house that stood before him. He saw a light on in the highest room. He thought he saw a figure standing there. But, when he looked back again, it was gone. He decided that there could be no harm done in knocking on the door, although he found himself wishing that he had brought some cookies or something to use as an excuse to welcome them into the neighborhood.
His footsteps slowed as he walked towards the door. He lost his footing and came crashing down with a thump on the deck. He heard a screech, but saw nothing in the darkness that had wrapped its arms around the manor. Ivan quickly stood up, dusted himself off, and hoped to God that no one inside the house had heard the loud commotion. His feet shuffled around the porch, his arms flailing in front of him, searching for anything that may lie in his path. His hands scraped against the old wooden door. He jerked back, startled, when a tiny splinter stuck his palm. He shook his hand and brushed it against his 501 Button-Fly jeans. He found the doorknocker and banged it three times. As he waited for someone to answer the door, he straightened his shirt, tucking it into his pants, double-checking to make sure the collar was straight.
His mother bought all his clothes for him. It was not his style and he didn't like half of them, but she never listened to him. Not about clothes, not about who really started the argument between him and his sister, not about that one time when he was mis-graded and got a F. She did not listen about anything nor did his father. Therefore, he kept his mouth shut tight, never truly speaking his mind unless someone asked him to or it was important to him, like meeting the new people in town. That was important to him, as childish as it sounded. The idea for out-of-towners moving into the mansion in Riverwolf Pass enthralled him. In addition, he would do nearly anything to get to them first, hear their stories, meet new exotic people and tell his friends about them before anyone else could. That was the only reason he'd spoken during dinner earlier that night.
The door creaked open and it seemed to take an eternity bef
ore Ivan could make out the figure standing there. When he could finally see her, he thought his heart might stop... or possibly beat out of his chest; it was hard to tell at that moment. She was a beauty, drop dead gorgeous. Her sixteen-year-old looks made her adorable to Ivan. The light pink dress she wore came down just past her knees and looked as though it was made of silk. Ivan found it fascinating she was wearing a dress – not very many girls did anymore. Most girls wore tight jeans - too tight in Ivan’s opinion - and shirts that were see-through and could not possibly be any tighter. Ivan wanted a girl with taste, a girl who wore different, more eloquent attire... a different girl.
When Ivan looked up at this fallen angel he saw before him, he was entranced by her eyes. They were emerald green, almost misty looking. They were different from any other eyes he had ever encountered. The way she was looking at him sent his heart beating, jerking around in his chest in eight different directions at once. She was pale, nearly as white as the snow that would soon come next month. Her golden hair laid neatly curled against the skin of her neck, meandering down over her curvy bodice.
“Can I help you?” she asked, the words she spoke sounded sweeter than any words Ivan had ever heard before. The way she looked at him said that she was anxious and curious to know why he was there. It seemed as though she was awaiting his response with baited breath.
Ivan was suddenly at a loss for words. He knew why he came. Nevertheless, he just could not think of how to put why he came there into words without sounding like a busybody.
“Uh, well,” he stuttered. He shoved his hands into his pockets and stared at his feet, rocking them back and forth.
The girl laughed. “May I ask why you’re here? I didn’t mean to sound unwelcoming if I did.”
“Oh no!” Ivan said quickly. “You didn’t sound like that at all!” He looked up into her eyes and then back down again. They seemed to be looking for an answer. “I just came, to uh, to welcome you. I’m Ivan Harvey.” He held out his hand and when the girl placed her hand in his he fought the urge to kiss it softly with his lips. How old fashioned would he seem if he were do to such a thing?
“I am Latianna. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Ivan,” she said, smiling. Ivan had only heard that phrase and a girl say it like that on the television. Ivan looked back up to her standing there in the doorway, not knowing what to say, but hoping with all his heart that she would invite him in.
“Look,” she said, sounding a little less formal. “It’s really nice of you to welcome us, but I think you should be going now.” She looked behind her as if she was expecting at any moment for someone to scream at her for socializing.
“Of course, I didn’t mean to intrude, it’s just-” Ivan, cut short of his words, stood there, gaping at the man who stood before the door.
“Latianna, you didn’t tell us we had company,” he said. He was easily six-foot-five, maybe even taller. The muscles in his body bulged from under his suit. Ivan thought to himself that he would not like being on the receiving end of a punch by him. The man was most likely in his late thirties, early forties, no doubt the girl’s father. He rested his hand on Latianna’s shoulder whilst his eyes pierced into Ivan.
“Hello, sir, I was uh, just coming, um, to uh, you know, welcome you,” Ivan said, resisting the urge to smack himself in the head for sounding like an idiot.
Ivan could feel the man's eyes scanning his whole body and what seemed like soul. It was an odd feeling, having someone scan your soul. Ivan felt like the man was doing a background check on him, but of course that was a ridiculous notion. It wasn't the first time Ivan had felt judged. He hated that feeling with a passion. Too many people had judged him in his past. Too many people had assumed things about him that weren't true. Too many people and now the new people were doing it too. Ivan wondered if there was ever such a place that he could live without being judged right away. He hated it when someone disapproved of him, or stereotyped him, by the way he talked, walked, and dressed or what kind of friends he made. Right then was the moment he decided he was going to work on those things. All of them, without a second thought about any of them.
“Of course,” the man said, smiling, “You will come in?” he phrased it as a command, but spoke it as a question. Latianna looked frightened, and that made Ivan feel confused.
“I wouldn’t want to be of any inconvenience,” Ivan said, wanting to sound respectful. His curious side caused him to peer inside just a little
“Nonsense, come in, come in! You must forgive my daughter’s poor manners; she should have invited you to come inside in the first place... you are after all, quite cold.”
Ivan did not think it was very nice to hint that the girl had no manners; he could hardly believe her father was doing so. Then, realizing how cold he was outside, after dark, in the fall weather, Ivan went inside the house, rubbing his hands together. Once inside, Ivan lost his breath, aghast at the immense abundance of the house. If one thought it looked big from the outside, they would have thought it to look twice as big on the inside.
Straight ahead, after entering the door, there was a huge staircase, a marble one with a golden railing. Ivan wondered if it was actual gold, and then subsequently began to wonder how rich these people were. To the right of the stairs, there was a precariously placed door which rested smugly, flush with the wall... To the left, there was a fireplace where the fire roared, keeping the house nice and toasty. There, before the fireplace, sat chairs and couches placed comfortably apart from one another. There was a coffee table, and two swinging doors, which Ivan assumed led to the kitchen.
“Sit?” the man demanded and asked all at the same time as he walked toward the chairs. “I don’t believe I caught your name,” he added, sitting down. Ivan sat down on the couch next to the chair and spoke his name.
“I’m Mr. Dyebuko, you can call me sir, and this is my daughter, Latianna,” he said as Latianna sat next to her father on the couch.
Mr. Dyebuko put a hand on his daughter's thigh and slowly moved it up and down along her silk dress. Latianna breathed in deep and seemed to hold her breath for a very long time, her eyes averted from Ivan and off into a corner of the room where she focused very hard on a painting that sat in corner.
Ivan remembered his manners and stated how nice it was to meet them. He attempted to think of appropriate questions to ask at a meeting such as this, but his thought process was broken when Mr. Dyebuko called to his wife. She entered the room walking down the staircase in her pink slippers. She wore less eloquent clothes than her daughter did. She wore jeans, a blue long-sleeved shirt, her hair pulled back into a bun with a bandana over it. Ivan immediately assumed she was cleaning the upstairs. Then, he wondered why she would be doing that at nighttime. Ivan did not ask, he thought it might be perceived as rude.
“Oh, who’s this?” she asked smiling.
“Ivan, Ivan Harvey, ma’am.” She managed a parched sounding “nice to meet you.” and then hurried into the kitchen when Mr. Dyebuko suggested she make some hot cocoa.
“So where were you before you moved here?” Ivan asked Mr. Dyebuko curiously.
“Nowhere interesting,” Latianna answered quickly.
“West Virginia, if you must know,” Mr. Dyebuko chimed in, smiling and looking at Ivan with dancing eyes. This made Ivan smile not only with his mouth, but with his heart as well.
“Like I said, nowhere interesting,” Latianna reiterated.
“It sounds interesting enough to me, more interesting than Riverwolf Pass, that’s for sure,” Ivan stated with a smile, just curious to know about anywhere other than where he had always lived.