Wildwood

13. Home

Home13. Home

I wait in the stairwell while Vanessa retrieves a wheelchair from the nurse’s station. Each time I hear footsteps, I crane my neck to look up at the floors above, wondering if Lucas is coming down, and wondering why he didn’t just follow right behind us.

The door opens, and Vanessa appears with the chair and a rumpled blanket.

“I grabbed this from your room. We’ll spread it over your legs,” she says. I sit in the chair, confronted with a wave of exhaustion the second I relax. “Do not, under any circumstances, speak of what happened in your room until we are out of this hospital and alone,” she orders softly. “Let me do the talking. If my husband asks you a question, then answer, but keep it short, and keep smiling. He’s a sucker for pretty girls who smile,” she says, rolling her eyes. I nod and scrunch deeper in the chair, wishing I had a hat to pull down over my face.

Vanessa pushes me down the hall. My pulse accelerates the closer we get to my room.

“I can’t go back in there,” I whisper.

“We won’t. I paged my husband. He’s going to meet us in the sitting area on your floor.”

“Okay.” Still, I grip the arms of my chair so hard my knuckles turn white as we pass by my open door. My eyes slide unbidden to their corners. The room is dark and still.

Dr. Andrews is waiting for us in the sitting area. He stands when he sees us, and his brow knits across his forehead.

“Is everything okay?” he asks.

“Tanzy is ready to leave,” Vanessa announces.

“It’s the middle of the night.”

“I checked her records. Her vitals have been perfect for twenty-four hours. She’s ready to move forward with my program.”

“I’m not sure she’s there yet. And even if she is, this could’ve waited until the morning.” He narrows his eyes.

“I don’t like hospitals,” I blurt. “They’re… freaky.” I can’t help but think of Lucas and how funny his face looked when he’d said the same thing. The idea of such a big guy being afraid of a hospital almost makes me smile. Remembering Vanessa’s advice, I force my mouth into an apologetic grin. Dr. Andrews’s face softens the moment he sees it.

“There aren’t many patients that do like hospitals,” he says. Behind me, Vanessa clears her throat, as if warning me to stick with the plan. I press my lips together. “That’s not a reason to leave before you’re ready,” he adds. Vanessa huffs.

“She’s ready, David. She’s remembering moments immediately prior to and after the lightning strike. I don’t want her to lose the purity of those memories before I have a chance to work through them with her.”

“Vanessa,” Dr. Andrews says, a note of warning in his voice. “I know your research is important to you, but need I remind you that Tanzy’s health comes first.”

“Mental health is every bit as critical as physical health. If these memories are mismanaged, she could suffer from anxiety, agoraphobia, depression…”

“That’s a big leap.” Dr. Andrews frowns, rubbing his eyes.

“There’s a family history,” I whisper, wondering if there’s any truth in Vanessa’s claims. Betrayal slices through me as I envision my mother staring out of the kitchen window, roaming from room to room, stopping just shy of the front door.

“David, I have seen it happen. You know I have. I wouldn’t take her out of here if I thought for one second leaving would do her more harm than staying. She… she can stay at our house, if it makes you feel more comfortable. Maybe you could even come by to check on her.”

I tense in the chair, my spine becoming rigid. I never agreed to go anywhere but home. And why would David have to come by to check on me at his own house? Doesn’t he live there?

“I don’t think—” I start, twisting to look at Vanessa. She gently knees the back of my chair.

“No, Vanessa, I’m sorry. My answer is no.”

“She’s seen things, David,” Vanessa pleads. “She’s seen… it. With her, I finally have proof.”

I hold my breath, realizing she’s talking about the Unseen world, the very thing she’d told me unequivocally to avoid mentioning. Dr. Andrews folds his arms and a scowl puckers his mouth.

“I hope you’re not referring to what I think you’re referring to.”

“I am. But David, I’m desperate. This is my first break in years. If you would just let me—”

“No.” He shakes his head. “I thought you had let this go, Vanessa. We agreed that you would.”

“It’s real, David.”

“This conversation is over. Take Tanzy back to her room.” He turns away.

“I saw a ghost,” I say, practically shouting. “This place is haunted. It made me drink something. I can’t go back in there. If you make me go back… I’ll… I’ll sue.” Dr. Andrews spins around.

“Those are big words, Tanzy,” he says, his voice low, anger flashing in his eyes. The hair on my arms stands on end as a shiver of regret passes through me.

“This is an easy fix,” Vanessa soothes, stepping around to the front of me. Her hands are open and slightly raised, as if she’s trying to distract a mad bull. “Tanzy will agree to be in the inpatient portion of my program. She will have her vitals monitored, any meds administered, whatever you want. I can even bring in a nurse, if that helps.”

I wonder how much of this promise she’s going to try to insist we follow, and uncertainty gnaws at me. She puts a hand behind her back and crosses two fingers, as if reading my mind, and I have to stop myself from smiling.

“She could just leave against medical advice,” Dr. Andrews says, exhaustion settling on his face.

“She’s going to need insurance to cover this,” Vanessa answers quietly. “If she leaves AMA…”

“Okay.” Dr. Andrews puts his hands up. “If this is that important to you, and you really think you can handle this, and Tanzy has made it clear she’s leaving either way, then okay. Tanzy, I will have you sign an additional liability waiver addendum before you leave. And she’ll need to make an appointment to have a hard cast put on by the end of the week.”

“Of course,” Vanessa agrees. I’m so thrilled I nearly stand, stopping myself just before my toes touch the ground.

“I’ll get the paperwork,” Dr. Andrews says, walking forward. Then he stops. “Did I hear that you ran through the lobby?” he asks.

“I… I hopped. I held onto things,” I answer. He gives me a wary look.

“Any pain, anything at all,” he says, directing his gaze to Vanessa while he points at me.

“I will bring her back right away if there’s any concern. And Tanzy won’t protest.” She glances at me. I nod, too afraid to speak for fear I’ll say the wrong thing. Dr. Andrews lets out a sigh, and we follow him down the hall.

Vanessa wheels me across the lobby. I’m not sure if she’s pushing me twice as fast as she did before or if it’s just my imagination and my want to be out of here making everything feel rushed. The main doors are twenty feet away. Ten. Then they open in front of me. Winter air rushes in, eliciting goosebumps from the skin my forearms as we burst through the sliding doors.

The moonless sky is plum purple, and scattered with stars. I sink against the back of the wheelchair, keeping my face turned down. I press the extra blanket Lucas gave me against my chest. I can’t imagine Asher or another shadow would reemerge in the crowded hospital lobby, but I can’t shake the feeling of being watched.

Vanessa grabs her keys out of the front pocket on her satchel, and pushes a button. The lights flash on a black Maserati. She pulls open her door and slides inside. I duck into the passenger side and pull the door shut, finally feeling a little less vulnerable now that I’m inside something that can move quickly, and the hospital will soon be miles behind me.

She collapses the wheelchair and stows it in the trunk, and then turns on the engine. The tires squeal as she makes a hard turn, gunning the gas the second the car returns to nearly straight. I grab the door handle and the console, anchoring myself to the seat. Had we been in a truck, we would’ve rolled over. Where is my truck? Realization sinks heavily onto my chest: I’d parked right next to the barn. There’s no way it survived the fire. Wildwood has claimed my father, Teague, probably Harbor, the barn, all of the other horses… maybe the owner is right. Maybe that land is cursed. I stifle a sob, acknowledging that Harbor is probably dead making me feel like a traitor. There’s no proof, no body… Suddenly, I understand my mother on every level, and I burst into tears.

“Are you okay?” Vanessa asks, peeking at me from her peripheral.

“I don’t know,” I whisper.

“Do we need to turn around?” She straightens, and pivots in her seat so she can see me better.

“No,” I answer sharply, and then exhale hard in an attempt to settle my breathing. “Thank you for getting me out of there.”

“I really think you need to come home with me. I said what I said to my husband to help you get out, but there’s truth in all of it, even in what David said.”

“I need to go home. I need to check on my mom. I’ll do everything you ask me to do, but from my own house.”

“Okay,” she says softly. “Tell me how to get there.”

I don’t say much on the drive to my house, other than the usual directions on where to turn and which roads to take. The quiet is nice. So is the movement; the world whizzing by my window. Everything is dark, and most of the trees are winter bare. I want to be able to crawl into my bed and listen to her shuffle from her room to the kitchen or press my ear against her door just to make sure she’s in her room and breathing, just so we can go back to the way we were before. I used to wish that life away. I would give anything to have it back now. The Unseen world seems like it’s been destined to come for me. My old reality has been on borrowed time for a year.

We turn onto my street. My heart begins to pound the moment my house comes into view.

“I just realized I don’t have a key,” I mumble. “My keys were in my truck. I parked it directly in front of the barn. I don’t think there’s any way it came through the fire.” I scan the front of the house for it, but there’s no sign of it on the street or in the driveway.

“Do you have a hidden key outside somewhere?” Vanessa asks.

“We do,” I say, brightening. “It’s under a rock on the side of the house.”

“Let’s go check,” Vanessa says and puts the car in park. We climb out, leaving the engine running.

I head for the side of the house. The medium sized gray rock sits by itself in a patch of dirt. I roll it over. The key box is lodged in the ground underneath. I slide it open. It’s empty. I drop the box and jog to the front door to test the handle. As I climb the steps, the memory of running down them and into the night, my mother’s screams at back, pulses in my head. It should have been you…

But I hadn’t locked the door.

I twist the handle. It doesn’t budge.

“Is there a back door? Maybe she left it open,” Vanessa offers from behind me.

“Maybe.,” I’m unwilling to register the note of hope in her voice. We traipse around to the back of the house and up the porch stairs. I feel foolish standing in the shadow of my own home without a way in. I pull the screen door, but the latch on the inside has been closed. I pry at a loose place in the screen with my finger until it gives, and then reach in and pop the latch. I stride across the porch floor, urgency breathing down the back of my neck. I grip the handle and try to turn it. The back door is locked.

I spin on my heels and fly down the steps.

“Something’s wrong,” I mumble.

“Tanzy, it’s the middle of the night. She didn’t know we were coming. It’s completely reasonable for someone to lock their house.”

I circle back to the front of the house. The lights are all off. A glow from the opposite side of the house paints a faint yellow circle on the lawn. I run in its direction, gazing up. The light in my room is on. I beeline for Mom’s bedroom window, press my fingertips under the lip, and lift. The pane slides up. I shove it open enough to slide through, and then hoist myself over the sill.

“Do you want me to come in with you?” Vanessa asks. I peer back, having momentarily forgotten her presence.

“No. Stay here.”

“What if—”

“I’ll be okay,” I say, cutting her off, and then drop into Mom’s room.

Her bed is made. I stand stone still, unable to look away. Mom hasn’t made her bed since Dad’s accident. I touch it, just to make sure it’s real. The comforter gives under my hand, leaving an indention when I pull back. I smooth it out, and then step into the hallway on trembling legs.

“Mom?”

She doesn’t answer.

I check the kitchen first, flipping on the light switch. The light doesn’t come on. I open the fridge. It’s empty and silent. I travel room to room, but none of the switches work. I wrap my arms around myself and my teeth chatter. I can see my breath. I haven’t been gone but a week. Even if the electricity bill was past due, they wouldn’t have turned it off that fast.

I pass by the stairwell and freeze: there was a light on in my room.

I take the stairs two at a time, keeping my eyes fixated on my door as it comes into view. The yellow glow is visible under the door. I reach for the door, suddenly terrified it’ll be locked, too. What if she’s in there… what if…?

I twist the handle and throw my shoulder into the door. The handle turns, and my momentum sends me sprawling through the opening door and into my floor. I land on my side, wincing, and then look up. My room is completely empty, save a single lantern and piece of paper sitting under the window.

I sit up, blinking. I rub my eyes. My room doesn’t change. I slowly stand and turn in a circle, digging my nails so hard into the skin on my arm I draw blood.

“This isn’t happening,” I mutter. I walk to where by bed should be, certain I’ll c***k my shins on the wood frame. I only stop when I reach the corner and can go no further. I turn around, expecting something, anything to be different, or for my mother to be standing there in the open door. I’d give anything for her to scream at me, say whatever she needs to say, if it meant that she was here.

I’m alone.

The lantern light flickers, making shadows dance on the wall. I step forward, eyeing the piece of paper. Seeing her hand writing makes my heart begin to hammer even harder. I bend down to pick it up.

Tanzy,

This house is no longer your home. I am no longer your responsibility, and you are no longer mine. Don’t look for me. You won’t find me. Our paths will not continue unless we walk them alone. Leave, Tanzy, and don’t come back.

Hope

She signed the letter with her name. Her words knife through my heart and begin to twist. My heart shudders in my chest, and I gasp with pain. I drop to my knees, catching my face on the heels of my hands, and choke on a deep sob.

“How could you?” I cry out. “How could you!?” Where am I supposed to go? What am I supposed to do? I grab the paper from where it fell to the floor and tear it down the middle, letting out a scream. My eyelids crush shut, sending down two rivers of tears. “How could you?” I whimper. Could this just be another bad day? Will she snap out of it and come home? Where is she? What if she’s truly lost her mind? Do I need to call the police and report her missing? What’s the point? I press my knuckles to my chest, wondering if my heart could still be beating with such a cold thought taking root in my brain.

A gust of air whips through the room. My eyes fly open as the lantern flame roars, and then snuffs out, plunging the room into darkness. I scan my room, the raspy sound of my breathing echoing in the empty house. A prick of fear sends a shiver down my spine.

“Tanzy?” Vanessa’s voice calls from far off, stirring me to motion. “Is everything okay?”

I push up to my feet, staring down at the torn paper and the dark lantern. I back out of my room. The wood floor creaks under my steps.

“Tanzy?” Her voice is louder now.

I pass through my doorway and turn before I collide with the banister. Vanessa is standing in the foyer, peering up.

“I thought you’d fallen asleep,” she says.

“No.” I blink away the image of my empty room. Should I stay here anyway? Sleep in her bed or in Dad’s favorite chair? How long would I have to wait to have the electricity turned back on? It’s bitter cold, and from the looks of my room, Mom didn’t leave me any clothes. This wasn’t a whim. This took planning, conviction, follow through.

If she left the house, why couldn’t she come see me? If she’s this angry, why couldn’t she have the courage to tell me in person? She left a note in the empty floor of my room like a coward. The heat of anger laces through me, and I clench my teeth to keep from screaming.

“It’s cold in here.” Vanessa shivers where she stands. “Why is it so cold?”

“I can’t stay here,” I say.

“What’s going on?” Vanessa asks slowly.

“I’m not welcome here anymore,” I say, squeezing my hands into fists.

“Is your mom here?” Vanessa looks up the stairs. “I can talk to her.”

“No.”

“No she’s not here, or no you don’t want me to talk to her?”

“Can we just go, please?” I say, my voice breaking.

“Of course.

We can call someone…? Friends? Family?”

“Vanessa, no,” I manage to say, my insides quaking.

My mind is a storm, my body a ship. I stumble to the front door.

“It’s the middle of the night. The only place I can think to go is my house. Is that okay?” Vanessa asks hopeful.

“Anywhere but here,” I whisper. I pull the door open and walk into the night.