“Is the chicken from Frankie’s Restaurant?”
“Yup. It’ll be ready in about ten minutes.”
Aunt Marjorie never cooked. She had told me once that she preferred to let the professionals do their jobs, and she’d be glad to pay them handsomely for it. I hurried up the stairs and went to my room. I found the phone in the covers and flipped it open. There was one missed call from Dr. Pendleton. I ignored it and pushed the button to call home. Dad picked up on the third ring.
“Hi, sweetie. I thought we weren’t going to talk until tomorrow. What’s up?”
I was so relieved to hear his voice instead of Mom’s that I let out a breath I didn’t even realize I’d been holding.
“Hey, Dad. I just wanted to let you know that I thought about what you said and… I’m ready. I’m ready to come home.”
“Are you sure? Don’t you want to sleep on it? You don’t have to make your decision right now, you know.” Now he sounded unsure. “I don’t want you to regret this, Abbey. Why don’t you call me tomorrow and we’ll discuss it some more.”
“No, Dad.” I said. “My mind is made up. Can you guys come pick me up tomorrow?” The last thing I needed was time to reconsider.
“I guess. Then you’ll have a day or two to get settled before the ceremony. I’ll go tell your mother.”
I hung up the phone and heaved a frustrated sigh. First he was trying to talk me into going back, and now he almost sounded like he was trying to talk me out of it? I didn’t get it.
But at least the decision was made now.
I was going back.
Music seemed to be nudging me awake. Soft and faint, bare wisps of song floated along, and I could barely make them out. I thought I was dreaming.
I lay very still and opened my eyes wide. I don’t know why I thought not blinking would help me hear better, but it seemed to make some sort of sense as I held my breath in that hushed darkness.
There it is again.
It was old-fashioned sounding, like something that would play during an epic love scene of a black-and-white movie. Silvery strains slipped through the crack under my door, and I waited in anticipation. It was lovely and haunting.
But still too faint.
I threw back the covers, slid my feet to the floor, and tiptoed over to the door. Maybe I can hear it better this way. With one hand on the knob I turned it gently, easing the door open.
I followed the sound until it stopped. There was a pause, a shift, and the music changed to a Cat Power song. Her voice ached with longing and sadness. I closed my eyes, overcome by emotions the song evoked.
A soft clinking of glass interrupted the moment, and I found myself moving forward again, peeking through the sliver of opened door into Aunt Marjorie’s room. It was open far enough that I could see in without having to press my face close, but not wide enough for her to see me if she should happen to glance over.
Aunt Marjorie was standing in front of a vanity, pouring a drink from a glass bottle. The amber liquid splashed into the bottom of a tumbler, barely filling it half an inch. Then she picked it up and toasted a large picture frame of Uncle Gerald that hung over the vanity mirror. An instant later she tipped her head to one side and put the glass back down. A low murmur and a giggle escaped her, and she put her arms up like she was getting ready to waltz with someone.
Cat’s voice soared, and the words “Oh, oh, I do believe…” filled the room as Aunt Marjorie started dancing.
Once, twice, three times she slowly moved back and forth in a triangle pattern. She wore a long, flowing white nightgown, and I noticed that her hair was down. I’d never seen it that way before. She normally wore it tied back in a bun, but now the dark brown waves gently bobbed around her shoulders as she swayed in time to the music.
I smiled. So this is where I get my crazy dancing-with-imaginary-partners gene from. It was kind of nice to know it came from her.
Then the song ended. The room grew still.
Stumbling to an abrupt halt, she stood, arms frozen in place. Waiting for a partner who was not there. Who would never be there. Her shoulders shook, and a harsh sob echoed throughout the room. Within seconds it multiplied, and she started to cry like her heart was breaking.
I moved to go to her, and my toe bumped into the bottom of the door. I froze at the sound. What if she didn’t want me to see her like this?
She glanced up, her eyes meeting mine. I held my breath, waiting to see what she would say, or do. But she only wrapped her arms around herself and sank to the floor, a lonely old woman trying to make it through life with a piece of her heart missing. In some ways I knew exactly what she was feeling. As hard as I tried to forget, there was a Caspian-shaped hole inside me, too.
Slowly, I retreated. Her sobs echoed in my ears the whole way back, and even as I shut my door, I could not escape them. They followed me into my dreams.
I flung myself forward, sitting straight up in bed. I don’t know how long I’d been asleep, but a nightmare had startled me awake. My eyes searched the dark corners, flew to the clock blinking 3:12 a.m., and scanned the ceiling. Looking for whatever it was that had my heart racing.
My mind frantically tried to reassemble the jumbled pieces of my dream.
I’d been… running? No. More like stumbling, really. Hands outstretched in the darkness. There were things all around me, and I could tell by their shape and feel that they were tombstones. Sharp edges and jagged pieces that left my bumbling knees and shins bruised, my fingers scratched.
I shook my head, looking for the missing scenes.
Stumbling… stumbling… almost falling, always moving. I knew I had to keep moving. What was after me? What was I running from? I saw myself try to glance behind, but it was too dark. I couldn’t make out what was there.
The dream started fading, and I knew I was losing it. Already the bare fragments of memory were slipping through my fingers.
With a final glance at the room around me, I slid back down onto the sheets and pillows, closing my eyes. Stupid dreams. I should not have drunk that Mountain Dew at dinner. It always gave me the jitters.
And then I sat bolt upright again.
I knew. I knew what the dream meant.
I wasn’t running from something. I was running to someone.
Chapter Two
OUT OF PLACE
To turn and fly was now too late…
—“The Legend of Sleepy Hollow”
Late the next morning I waited impatiently with my bags by the front door for Mom and Dad to come pick me up. Time was dragging.
I gave my suitcase a kick and nudged it over on its side before sitting down on it. Aunt Marjorie was in the kitchen heating up a store-bought pie so that it would look like it just came out of the oven. She wanted to impress Mom. I scanned the distance through the glass door for the three hundred thirty-seventh time. When will they get here?
A horn beeped.
I jumped up and waited for them to pull in. As soon as they reached the house, car doors started swinging open and then slamming shut. Mom got to me first. I ran into her arms too, and hugged her for all I was worth. Sure, I was still a little mad at her for pushing the issue that I come home early, but she was my mom. And I’d missed her.
Dad came over and put his arms around both of us, and I turned to squeeze him tight.
“Hi, sweetie, we missed you,” he said.
“I missed you too, Dad.”
“Where’s Aunt Marjorie?” Mom asked. “I want to say hello.”
“She’s in the kitchen. I think she wants you to stay for pie.”
“Ooh, pie! How nice.”
Mom wandered into the house, and Dad leaned over to pick up my stuff. Suddenly I felt shy and awkward around him. Did he think I was still crazy?
“So how did the football game go last week?” I asked.
“Football season hasn’t started yet,” he replied. “But baseball season has, and last week the Yankees beat the Sox.”
I picked u
p my backpack and put it on the backseat. “I totally knew that. I was just testing you.”
We smiled at each other, and in that moment I knew everything was okay. Even though he’d been the one I’d gone to when I needed help, Dad didn’t think I was a freak.
He shut the back door and then turned to me. “So, your aunt made a pie, huh?”
“Made, not so much. Bought is more like it. I think it’s cherry.”
His smile widened. “Well then, let’s not keep her waiting.”
An hour later we were back at the car again, this time saying good-byes.
I hugged Aunt Marjorie one last time, pretending that I didn’t notice the way her eyes were getting all teary. “I’ll come back and visit again soon,” I promised. “You still owe me a couple more plane rides.”
She nodded. “You bet. Call me if you need anything.” She lowered her voice and looked me right in the eye. “Anything, okay, Abbey?”
“Okay,” I said. And I promise, your midnight secret is safe with me. I didn’t say it out loud, but she gave me an almost imperceptible nod, and then we were climbing into the van, waving as we backed out of the driveway and pulled onto the open road.
I leaned my head back and settled in, sad to leave Aunt Marjorie behind. Anxious for everything I would be returning to. And nervous about what my future might hold.
Up front Mom chattered away. “We’re so excited to have you back home, Abbey! I can’t wait to show you the new colors I painted the dining room in. And last week I replaced the drapes in the front hallway…” I tuned her out.
I didn’t care about paint colors or new hall drapes. I only cared about what the rest of my summer was going to be like. Had word gotten out about the meltdown I’d had? Did anyone know where I’d been these past couple of months? What were they saying about me?
Trees zipped by, and so did several cars. The clouds shifted overhead, and I peered up at them. The shadows they cast seemed to stretch for miles, and for a while I amused myself with the what-does-that-cloud-look-like game. For some reason I kept seeing hippopotamuses.
Then my thoughts switched course. School was out now. What would everyone else be doing over the summer? Getting part-time jobs? Throwing pool parties? Hanging out at the beach? Driving around in their cars?
Would I be doing any of those things? I didn’t know what this summer would bring, but I didn’t think it was going to go down as “the one to remember.” Not with Kristen being gone. Not with me being… me. I wonder what Ben is doing.…
He’d called my cell phone once or twice while I was at Aunt Marjorie’s, but I still hadn’t called him back. I didn’t know what to say or how to act. Not only had I ditched him in the middle of our science-fair project, but then I had to go and have a mental breakdown on top of it. How do you explain that? Baffled as to what to do about Ben, I thought about it until we were almost home.
Dad had to say my name three times to get my attention, and I think he was amused by my obvious daydreaming.
“We’re going to cross the new bridge,” he told me. “In about ten minutes.”
I turned to look out my window, grateful for the distraction from my thoughts. I kept my neck craned and didn’t have to wait long. Dad pulled onto the main cemetery road, and even from a distance I could see the massive, looming structure.
The covered part of the bridge appeared to be at least twenty feet tall, and it had been made to look like it was a hundred years old. I couldn’t figure out why it was so big until we crossed it and an eighteen-wheeler drove past us. Of course, trucks would need the extra room.
Thick wooden beams crisscrossed each side, and a rumbling sound echoed underneath us. It was the quintessential covered-bridge experience… and I hated it. It felt ugly and out of place. A big, jarring reminder of what had happened to my best friend at this spot.
“So?” Mom turned around in her seat to see my face. “What do you think?”
“It’s, um, new. And huge. And kind of seems… like it will take some getting used to.”
Mom waved her hand. “You’ll get used to it in no time. And it’s already increased tourist traffic by thirteen percent.”
I returned to looking out my window. Great. Like I was really in the mood to be around more strangers. All I wanted was for Sleepy Hollow to be exactly the way it had been when I’d left it. Minus the crazy.
We pulled up to our house, and Dad parked out front by the mailbox. I climbed slowly out of the car and stood looking up at the white siding. It seemed… smaller than I remembered. The green shutters weren’t as dark as they’d once been either. In fact most of them looked like they could use a fresh coat of paint.
Mom came and put an arm around me. “Aren’t you glad to be home, Abbey? We have a special surprise for you. It’s up in your room.”
I nodded, and we started walking toward the house. Inside, everything felt weird. I had the oddest sense of something being not quite right… or out of place… and a sinking suspicion that the not-quite-right thing was me.
But I shook my head and tried to resist the urge to stand in one place for too long. I grabbed on to the stair banister for support. My knees felt funny.
Mom was grinning at me, and I started to get slightly nervous. Oh God, what if she rearranged my room or something? Was that the surprise?
When I got to the top of the stairs and stood in front of my closed bedroom door, I found myself shutting my eyes. I stood there for a moment before I felt Mom move away from me and then I heard the door open.
“Come on, Abbey,” Mom said, laughing. “You don’t have to close your eyes.”
Yes. Yes I do, I wanted to tell her. Instead, I took a step forward and opened one eye at the same time. Everything looked okay. With the exception of my floor being clean. Which was not how I’d left it. But if all she’d done was pick up my dirty laundry, then that was fine by me.
I shot a glance over at my freshly made bed. Not how I left that, either. Okayyyy… so maybe she changed the sheets, too?
Mom was still grinning, so I put a fake smile on. “You cleaned my room. Thanks, Mom.” I tried to look genuinely happy.
“You don’t see it yet, do you?”
“Sure I do—” I stopped and my jaw dropped open as I turned to my right and looked over at my work desk. Sitting on the floor next to it was the most amazing curio cabinet I’d ever seen. It looked like a giant old-fashioned card catalog.
“Oh. My. God.” I ran toward it. “Mom! Where did you guys get this? I love it!”
I don’t think her smile could have gotten any bigger. “Uncle Bob found it in pieces at one of the supply places he gets his storage crates from. So he called your dad and asked if we wanted it. We went and picked it up; Dad glued it back together and fixed all the split ends. Then I painted it.”
I ran my fingers over the gilded edges. They were a pale cream color and sanded down in spots to appear worn with age. The cabinet was at least three feet tall, and there were rows upon rows of little drawers, all stacked up on top of one another. Each drawer had a tiny gold rectangular handle, with a two-inch space above the handle to add in a nameplate. When I opened one of the drawers, I saw that it had been painted a deep gold inside.
“I added some gold flaking to the bottom of each one,” Mom said. “I wanted it to have that special feel to it. It’s for all of your perfume supplies.”
Stunned gratitude and sheer amazement took over when I realized how many painstaking hours she must have put into it. “Mom, I can’t even… I don’t know what to say. Thank you.” I leaned over and wrapped her in a giant hug. She squeezed me back, and for a moment I pretended everything was normal again.
Then she pulled away, and I saw a desperate look in her eyes. She tried to hide it. Tried to put on a smile, but I could see what she was thinking. She wasn’t sure if I was better yet.
“I’ll let you get settled in and unpack your things,” she said. “Dinner’s in an hour. I’m making your favorite—lasagna.”
“Thanks, Mom,” I said again. “Sounds good!”
She gave me one last glance and then left my room. I let my smile drop as soon as she was gone, and I quickly shut the door. It was so strange to be back here. Back home.
I moved slowly around the room, pausing at my desk to shuffle through an old stack of perfume notes. Running my hands over the computer screen. Picking up a small glass paperweight and rolling it round and round. My stuff. My things. Every little piece that made me was represented here. Somehow.
Then I moved on to my bed. Sitting cautiously so I wouldn’t wrinkle the sheets, I placed both hands on the comforter, palms down. It was cool beneath my fingertips, and I got lost in thought there for a while. I stared at the red striped walls, the fireplace mantel with the silver swirly frame, my telescope in one corner…
Mom’s voice broke through my thoughts, calling that dinner was in thirty minutes, and I stood up to move to my window. Sinking down onto the window seat, I grabbed Mr. Hamm, a stuffed bear resting next to Jolly the penguin and Spots, a giraffe, musing that I hadn’t left them so neatly arranged, and hugged him to my chest.
My eyes traveled to the closed closet door. Is the black prom dress Mom got me still in there? I’d never even checked it to see if she’d had all the tiny tears mended from when I’d worn it last, on Halloween night. When I’d gone to the cemetery and danced in the rain. That night I’d lain in the river and Caspian had walked me home and then we—
No! He’s not real. Caspian is dead.
A shout outside drew my attention away from the closet door, and I turned to look out the window. On the street below me a little boy was running after a small, white, fluffy dog and yelling for him to stop. The dog kept trotting right along, dragging a blue leash behind him.
I smiled and watched them for a minute until something else caught my eye. Heart pounding, I sat straight up and put one hand to the glass. A figure dressed all in black darted toward the trees that stood by the side of our house. The sunlight shone on his white-blond hair.
“No,” I whispered. “No!” My hand turned into a fist and I pounded once on the window pane. But he was moving fast, and an instant later I lost sight of him.