Page 15 of Missing Moon
Eventually, I don’t even notice that I’ve stopped paying attention to the GPS and started driving by memory. Lots of woods out here. Dirt roads mostly. It’s the kind of area where neighbors are too far away to see their houses. These are the back roads I wandered in my youth. My mind floods with memories of long days spent roaming the forest. Sounds so romantic-nostalgic to think about how we used to run wild through the trees, build forts, and swim in the creek on a whim… but honestly? If I had to do it over again, I’d prefer a normal life in the suburbs where we’d worrywhatwas for dinner, notifthere would be dinner.
I’d like to think I’ve given that kind of security to my kids, even with all the paranormal craziness.
Without even thinking about it, I navigate back to my parents’ house while my mind wanders through the past. The way to the house is barely a driveway; basically, just two dirt ruts with tufts of grass in between them, winding through the trees for maybe a quarter mile before they reach a large open spacein front of the house. Six vehicles are parked there, mostly off to the right against the trees: four pickup trucks, one old Toyota Corolla, and a fairly new-looking Nissan Sentra.
Those trucks have been there longer than I’ve been alive. None of them work. Dad always talked about fixing them up and selling them. No, it’s not a laziness thing. He actuallydidwork on them… constantly. The problem is, he’s not a mechanic and had no idea what he was doing. I think the old Toyota was Mom’s car before she went totally flaky. I’ve never seen her drive it. At any point in history, there might have beenoneworking vehicle around here and it was always Dad’s. And byworking,I mean it had about a fifty-fifty shot of getting him where he wanted to go without breaking down. He went through old cars like most people go through underwear. But I suppose when you spend $150 for a car, it’s not going to run for more than a few months.
Speaking of which, I don’t see any vehicle that looks like whatever might be Dad’s current (and barely) functioning beater. Hmm. I wonder if he gave up on driving? Hold up. There’s a spot of dead grass close to the house that looks like a car had lived there. My gut tells me it’s where Dad would have parked, but the car is gone. Meanwhile, the newish Nissan is an anomaly... until I see the Enterprise Rental license plate frame. A visitor is here. No surprise there, obviously one of my brothers.
As for the house itself, it’s every bit as bad as I remembered. The place is a huge ranch-style house, though only one story. We might not have had a lot of money growing up, but all five of us kids had our own rooms. Whatever genius designed it only put in two bathrooms. At least I only have one sister. Any more than two girls living here at once would’ve made mornings nightmarish. Dusk and River got into the habit of showering the night before to avoid conflict with me and Mary Lou. Clayton just ‘showered’ out in the yard with thehose. I think he got the idea after that time Mary Lou hosed him down when he was seven and had come home covered head-to-toe in mud.
The wood-shingle siding is exactly as I remembered, too, minus a shingle or three.
Seeing this place again is a mixture of heartbreak with the same sort of mood one gets when they’re about to get started on a major unfun project, like cleaning out a garage.
I sit there in the Momvan staring out the windshield at the house where I spent my childhood. The property is overgrown. One of the rain gutters has fallen halfway off, its right end on the ground while the left is still connected to the roof. It totally looks like the kinds of places you see onHoarders, except without the hoarding part.
Tammy whistles. “On this episode ofHoarders…”
I laugh. “I was just thinking that.”
“It really does.” Tammy grimaces. “Has Grandpa been sick for long?”
“Well…” I shut off the engine. “Knowing him, he wouldn’t have gone to the doctor until he passed out on the floor and someone else carted him in. He’s got lung cancer, so yeah… he would’ve been sick for a while. At least, pretty weak.”
Paxton pulls her shirt up over her face. “Ugh. Is this place gonna stink like cigarettes?”
I nod. It’s a good question. Truth is, I stopped noticing it as a kid, but Dad smoked a lot. When we brought Tammy out here to visit years ago, we weren’t able to breathe comfortably inside.
“It might, yeah,” I say, fidgeting.
“We’ll fix it,” says Tammy confidently.
“Really?” I glance sideways at her. “Youcan fix that? It’s been soaked into the wood for decades.”
Tammy makes a pondering face. “The faeries taught me a spell to get rid of poison. It’s meant to be used on people, but I can try it on the house. Also, I have a ‘fresh air’ spell…”
“Yay! Sounds good to me,” says Paxton.
We get out of the van.
As we do, the front door opens, revealing a bearded, scrawny guy who looks part homeless beggar, part Unabomber, part crazy science professor with a nuclear reactor in the basement. Okay, to be fair, he’s not particularly dirty ortoodisheveled. His brown hair is a little unkempt but it appears to be wet suggesting a recent shower. Is this a squatter?
“Holy heck…. Sam?” blurts the guy. “Is that you?”
I freeze. While I don’t recognize this person at all by looks, the voice I do remember. It hasn’t changed too much since he was sixteen. “Dusk?”
He fast walks over to me, nodding, and sweeps me into a huge hug. He smells like soap and fabric softener with an after-note of something herbal… chamomile? I hug him back, not really sure what my emotions are doing.
My brothers and I never had like a falling out or feud or anything. We got along great. Just… for one reason or another, ended up going our separate ways and not really staying in contact too much. Oh, there it is. I’m feeling a mixture of guilt and relief that he’s okay. The guilt is from me not making much effort to stay in touch.
After the hug, Dusk holds me at arms’ length and looks me over. “Wow. Sam. Just Wow.”
“Huh? Do I have food in my teeth?”
“No. You look… amazing.” He chuckles wheezily. “I’ve turned into an old salt of the Earth and you don’t look any different than I remember.”
“Thanks.” I hook my thumbs in my jeans pockets. “Just lucky I guess.”