World in Tatters Ch. 26

Once we get inside the carriage house, we climb a ladder up into the tool loft and take position by the window. The window isn’t big enough for both of us to stand watch together, so we take turns. Rachel takes the first shift while I pull over a couple of boxes to sit on.

While hanging out there, waiting for something to happen, I find a barrel with some dusty old chunks of wood. I pull out my knife and begin cutting away at a piece. Absentmindedly whittling to pass the time.

After a while of silence, I look up from my crude frog carving, “You see anyone out there?”

“No. It’s strange. I can see most of the property from here, but there’s not even a gardener. A place this size, you’d think somebody would be working by now.”

“There could be a lot of explanations for that.”

“Still, though. It’s odd.”

“Well, what can you see?”

“I dunno. The side of the house, most of the back yard, doors to a cellar. Oh! I think…I think I see Chris.”

“Really? I guess the others found a back way in. Too bad he’s not very good at hiding.”

“Oh, leave him alone.” Rachel defends.

Confused, “You’re…you’re defending him? I didn’t even think you wanted him around.”

“I didn’t. Not at first anyway. I didn’t trust him.”

“But you do now?”

Sheepishly, “I don’t know. Maybe. I mean, he did give us this lead.”

“Rach, you don’t need to be ashamed that you’re warming up to him. He’s a good kid.”

“How do you know that? You’ve barely spent any time with him.”

“It’s just a feeling, really. The kid’s been through a lot.”

“So, he says.”

“Yeah, well, I choose to believe him. And I think you do too.” Rachel squirms a little bit, “That’s not a bad thing. Look, I know with everything we’ve been through, especially lately, trusting people is hard. But not everyone is out to get us.”

Under her breath, “Sure feels that way.” After a quiet moment, “It’s your turn.”

I rise from my perch, sheathing my knife and tossing my wooden creation aside. “Hey, there’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”

Hesitantly, “…Okay?”

“It’s… about the bounty hunters from last week.”

“Oh. That. We really don’t have to talk about it.”

“But I want to…I mean, if you’re willing to.” I take a moment to collect my thoughts. “I don’t really know how to talk about this…But, I overheard some of your conversation with Alice last night.”

“You…What? Why?”

“I was a bit drunk coming back from the bar, and when I heard you two talking, I kinda just listened. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop on you or invade privacy, but I heard what you said about that day.”

“You shouldn’t have been spying on us.” Betrayal evident in her voice, “That’s not cool, Steven. You can’t just…”

“Rach. Please.” I plead, “I know I shouldn’t have, and I’m sorry. I don’t have an excuse for it. But I heard some of the stuff you said. Rach, I had no idea.”

“Of course you didn’t!” she hisses. “You left! You left me for a week with Jason and two strangers!”

“I had to. I was trying to find out why they were after us. Why they attacked us. I had to go. I…”

“I know…” The fire in her speech dulls to a low flame.

“Did you talk to Jason? I mean about what happened.”

“Look, I love Jason, you know I do. He’s the closest thing we have to family, but he’s not my brother.”

“Well, I’m here now. You can talk to me about it.”

“Really? Now?” Her flame heating up again. “Now you want to talk about it? What do you want to talk about? You want to talk about the bounty hunters? How they took us hostage. How about the fact that it never would have happened if you’d taken Jason and me with you?”

“Rach, that’s not fair.”

“Fair? That asshole put a gun to my head. If you hadn’t…” Rachel glares daggers at me, the whites of her eyes turning red as a tear runs down the edge of her nose.

I’ve seen those eyes. The deep gray shimmering against bloodshot red. The fear. The anger. The sadness.

I know those eyes. Because I’ve seen them in the mirror.

“Rachel, I know what it’s like to feel helpless. What it’s like to fear for your life.”

“How could you know?” She spits.

“There’s something I need to tell you.” I hesitate, looking out the window, unable to face her. Speaking softly, my memories flooding my mind. “I should have told you years ago.”

“What?”

“I’ve only felt true helplessness once in my life. The night…” The words catch in my throat. “Rach, I killed our father. You know how he was those last few weeks after mom…He attacked me…I…”

Rachel wipes away her tear. The fire in her eyes fizzling out. When she finally speaks, there’s no trace of it left. “I know.”

“You do?”

“How could I not, Steven? You changed when dad died. You stopped sleeping. When you did, you had nightmares. Things were just different.” She looks away from me, staring holes into the floorboards. After a long, tense pause, “Besides, I was there.”

Rachel’s words catch me off guard. To say the least. “Why didn’t you say anything before?”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I thought…I didn’t want you to hate me. I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“Yeah, well, how do you tell your brother that you watched him kill your dad? Especially when he can’t even admit it.”

“Point taken. But, what do you mean, you were there? What did you see? When I got up that night, I thought you were still asleep.”

“I was. At first.” Rachel squirms in her seat. Her stare turns vacant as her own memories ripple in her eyes. “I woke up to find you gone. I was only eleven, and after what happened to mom, I was scared. I went to find you. I saw the candles in dad’s tent and heard him yelling at you, but I was scared of him. So…I hid.”

She pauses for a long time, seeming to be lost in the remembrance. Once she notices that her hands had begun to shake, she folds them in her lap, pressing them between her knees. I don’t think I ever noticed how much alike we are. I knew that we share our mother’s eyes, but as Rachel gets older, I see more and more a reflection of myself. Down to the painful memories haunting our lives.

The worst part is, I’ve been so wrapped up in my own crap that I couldn’t see it. I couldn’t see how much our parents’ fates affected her.

Even so, it’s like weight has been lifted from my shoulders. All this time, I thought I was keeping this secret about our father from her. A secret I kept, thinking it would protect her. Or at least protect our relationship so I could protect her.

Maybe I just kept it to protect myself. I thought it was because she was young and if she never forgave me, she’d be alone. I believed it would ultimately kill her if she knew. But it’s much clearer now. I was terrified that I would lose her.

After everything that’s happened to both of us, I couldn’t be alone. Rachel’s the only blood family I have left. I can’t lose her. For five years, she’s been the one that’s kept me sane.

I’ve tried everything I know how to take care of her without mom and dad, but I need her too. Probably more than she needs me.

“I heard dad yelling.” When she finally speaks, she steels her voice. Looking up at me, bloodshot eyes contrast against the deep gray, she forces herself to tell the rest of her story. “I heard you trying to calm him down. All I could see were shadows, but I saw him lunge. You both collapsed. Next thing I saw was you coming out covered in blood. The look on your face…you…I knew what happened. I may have been young, but I wasn’t stupid.

“I ran back to our tent and cried until you came back.”

“I can’t believe you’ve been carrying that alone this whole time.”

“Why? You did. Besides, I didn’t carry it alone. Jason knows all about it.”

“You told him?”

“Not exactly. He came to talk to me a few months after it happened. He said he saw me that night, wanted to know what I saw, so we talked.”

“He did? That’s, um, that’s good.” I feel myself tearing up. “I’m glad you had someone to talk to.”

“It should have been you. You should have been the one there. My brother.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Doesn’t really matter now, I guess. You know now…Can we stop talking about this? Get back to watching the house.”

“Yeah, sure. Um… I still haven’t spotted anyone around the property.” I try to bring myself back to the moment at hand, pushing back the dark thoughts and memories.

“Maybe this was a waste of time.”

“No, I don’t think so. There’s something wrong here. A property like this requires constant caretaking. There should be at least one gardener, but so far, nothing.”

“Maybe it’s just their day off.”

“Maybe…I just have a bad feeling is all.”

“All we can do is wait and watch. I’m gonna go take a nap. Wake me up when it’s my turn again.” With that, Rachel goes to hide behind a nearby shelf of tools. I hear her rustle around for a moment to clear a space before lying down and going quiet.

I don’t know if Rachel is angry with me or if we just stirred up rough memories. She’s probably mad at me because we stirred up those rough memories, but it’s been five years, and this is the first time she and I have talked about what happened. I spent so much time and energy trying to repress my feelings about what I did, that I was blind to the fact Rachel’s been internalizing her own pains. I wish, more than anything, that I could make that pain go away for her.

Now that I know, I don’t know if I’ll be able to ignore it.

*****

I decide to let Rachel sleep instead of having her take her turn. At first, I couldn’t tell if she was actually sleeping or just avoiding me. That changed when I heard her snoring like a bear.

I used to be just like that. Able to fall asleep in even the most uncomfortable places. She’s a good kid, but she’s been through a lot. It’s one way we differ. The memories of the last five years make it difficult for me to sleep, but there she is, zonked out on the splintery wooden floor in the tool loft of a carriage house.

I listen for a long moment, the sound oddly comforting. After a while, I try to ignore the sleeping bear noises and focus on the house. Hours pass without any movement in or around the house. The longer we’re here, the more uneasy my mind becomes. There’s no conceivable reason I can come up with for this property to be this empty.

Rachel wakes up again in the mid-afternoon. We don’t talk for the rest of our time in the carriage house. When the sun finally starts to sink in the sky, Rachel and I pack up our stuff and remove any remaining evidence of our perch. We lost sight of Chris a little while ago. The others must have already started their return trip to the tavern.

When we get downstairs, I take one last look toward the main house. Just as I’m about to turn away, something out of the corner draws my eye.

The creak from the heavy iron gate echoes across the Luther estate. Rachel and I duck down behind the side of the carriage house, peaking out to get a look. A small wagon comes through the gateway led by a young-looking man with scraggly hair. A middle-aged man sits quietly beside him. The smartly dressed interlopers pull the wagon up to the front of the house before hopping off, heading inside, and pulling curtains closed in every window we can see.

There is something strange about the older gentleman’s demeanor. He seems shaky, hesitant, avoiding eye contact with his counterpart. I catch only a glimpse more of the scraggly man. I see his face as he peers through the last window. His eyes betray no emotion, but something tells me his intentions are less than noble. He snaps the last curtains closed, disappearing into the garish home.

Rachel and I stand by at the carriage house for a few more minutes, hoping to glean a little more information about our first visitors of the day. However, with the curtains closed tight, and the time growing late, we decide it’s time to return to the tavern with the others.