Beyond the Cabin Read online

  I’ll be like you. I won’t die, but this stupid FF’s not gonna keep me. I’m not gonna cry for you. I gritted my teeth in determination. This was only the beginning. I knew how I could show respect to Mal, to Mal’s memory. I’m not gonna cry. I opened my eyes and looked up, imagining somewhere far beyond the dark wood ceiling. I’m gonna live for you. I’m gonna live the way we talked about when we were building the cabin. I closed my eyes again. As soon as I can, I’m outta here. I nodded slightly, knowing this was right. I didn’t care about jumping through Miriam’s hoops. I would be gone soon, anyway.

  As I turned to go back to my chair, I had a final thought. And Mal? Thanks for the donuts.

  Only after I had sat down again and Andrew was leading the congregation in a solemn hymn did I notice that I still had my rose. As the singing voices grew louder, I turned it in my hands, staring at the petals.

  Abraham led the closing prayer. I whispered, “Amen,” and was the first one out of the room. I kept my eyes straight ahead and slightly unfocused. The pressure in the room squeezed me out of there. I nearly ran to the door.

  “Joshua.” It was Joan. “You still have your rose.”

  Right when Joan said “rose,” inspiration hit. I knew exactly what I was going to do with the flower. “Yeah,” I said, reaching for the door knob.

  “Joshua,” she said again. “Wait a sec.”

  I turned to her. Her eyes were red, but her face was thankfully dry. “I’m so sorry. But this was nice, wasn’t it?”

  “Sure,” I said.

  “Are you okay?”

  Something in her voice, or maybe her face, felt like it stabbed me. Or shoved me, shaking something loose. I had to look away. I had promised Mal! I took a careful breath. “I’m fine.”

  Joan reached out and touched my shoulder. “Are you sure? I mean, how could you be?”

  I gritted my teeth, swallowing hard. I couldn’t; I’d promised. But the tears came to my eyes all the same. My throat felt like hands were squeezing it. “It’s okay, Joan,” I said, staring at the floor. “Really. I’m fine.”

  Before I could react, she wrapped her arms around me and pulled me close. She whispered in my ear, “It’s okay to be sad. It’s right. I’m here if you need anything.”

  I shook my head, felt the tension drain from under my teeth. Maybe if I just hid my face in her shoulder, nobody would see. I couldn’t breathe! I needed to get rid of the pain in my throat! I kept my body rigid, but began to shake. NO! I promised! I gave Joan a squeeze, pushed myself away, and reached for the knob. “Thanks.” I opened the door and got out of there.

  It only took me a few seconds to reach the edge of the pond. The cool air seemed to ease the pain in my throat. My eyes wandered across the recently thawed water in the pond. Geese would be back soon. Random. When I felt like I could walk and breathe at the same time, I turned and followed the shoreline to the woods and headed to the cabin.

  Chapter 9

  After several minutes of walking, I reached the clearing where the cabin sat. It had weathered the winter pretty well, with only a few gaps showing where the mud between the logs had fallen out. Gotta put a roof on this thing somehow. I stood at the edge of the clearing for a second or two, taking in the picturesque view of the hardy cabin surrounded on three sides by tall trees. We made this. I actually did some of it.

  The heavy, woody taste and smell of early spring filled my mouth, slightly beating back the bitterness of the awful memorial service. Glancing at the trees, I saw small buds on the maples and elms.

  I went in to the cabin, quickly finding a rusted hammer with a rough handle. I chose an empty corner of the cabin and knelt. Using the claw of the hammer as a pickaxe, I dug through the hard dirt of the cabin floor in that corner. The work felt good.

  Before long, I had a hole about four inches deep and a little longer than the rose I’d taken from the memorial service. I tossed the hammer across the cabin, back into the pile of tools and took a few slow breaths.

  “Okay.” I picked up the rose and cradled it in both hands. “This may be lame, but it’s better than making that stupid pile bigger.” I lifted my gaze and saw the gray clouds through the naked rafters. “Mal. I don’t know if you can hear this. I bet you can. I’ve seen you a couple times since… well since you died. I mean, I know it’s not really you. And I don’t think I’m going crazy. Ah geez. It’s just weird.” I shook my head. “Okay, that really was dumb. Sorry.” I had to do this right.

  I kicked my brain into gear. “This is my memorial. Your memorial. This is our cabin. I wish you hadn’t died,” my breath caught somewhere in my chest. No. I already said I wouldn’t. “So I’m gonna bury this rose here. I’m sorry I didn’t help you more. But I’ll finish the cabin.” I searched for something good to say, something that would finish it. Something that would work in a movie or book.

  After a minute of silence, I shrugged and put the rose in the shallow trench I’d dug. I pushed dirt on top of the rose, covering the dark green and the red velvet petals.

  “That’s a good idea.”

  I jumped in surprise. I spun to face the doorway, my heart thudding. Esther stood in the doorway of the cabin. A thought flashed. So I guess maybe she and Mal must have met here. I shook the thought away. “What are you doing here?” That sounded bad.

  The anger in my voice seemed to make Esther step back. Hurt shot across her features. “I… I wanted to talk to you.”

  “Why not Aaron? He’s older.”

  Esther made a confused face at me. “But he doesn’t talk. Even though you say terrible things, he just speaks computer and science. I don’t get him.”

  The sudden anger in my gut disappeared. She noticed it too. I stood there in silence, wondering who was supposed to speak next.

  “Anyway,” Esther said, her mouth tight. “I didn’t know if you knew; if Mal had told you.”

  “Told me what?”

  “About us. About him and me.”

  Geez. I studied the cabin walls. Seriously? I really didn’t want to hear this. I tried not to meet her direct gaze. “Uh no. He didn’t. But—I kind of figured it out.”

  “I’m not surprised,” she said. “We had planned to leave together. But he was so impatient. He said he couldn’t take it anymore. And I have to wait until I’m eighteen.”

  I nodded. Zero idea of what to say.

  “I—I felt like I should tell you. Mal was the best thing about this place. About the Faith I mean.”

  “I know,” I said. “I couldn’t believe he was leaving. I mean, I believed it, but it seemed fast. And then he only came back a few times with donuts and stuff.” I still couldn’t look at her. Were all girls like this? Did they all only want to talk about feelings and stuff? I wanted to sit, or maybe cut down a tree.

  “Yeah,” Esther said. Silence grew and filled the cabin.

  The noises of the forest seeped into my ears: the wind in the pine needles, the creaking of tree trunks.

  “And I wanted to make sure you’re okay,” Esther said.

  “I’m fine.” I made the mistake of looking at her face. Her eyes, greener than I remembered, stared at me intensely. I saw all of her sadness right there. I dropped my eyes again, feeling embarrassed.

  “Are you sure?” She stepped a little closer. “I mean, I didn’t see you—you know. I just, it’s okay to be sad. Really,” she said.

  What was this hang-up with crying? First Joan and now Esther. But Esther really meant it, and Joan had too. And it was nice that they actually seemed concerned. I wasn’t mad at her, but I wanted this to be over. I sighed. “I really am okay. Okay? Really.”

  She nodded. Her shoulders seemed to droop. The next moment her face, she really was pretty, kind of sagged. She looked tired. “You know. I sometimes thought it would be nice to have you as a brother. You and Aaron I mean.”

  “Yeah, but if we were your brothers, you couldn’t—“ I stopped, embarrassed. “I mean, you and Mal—“

  “No. I mean brothers-in-law.�
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  “Oh.” Oh. Holy cow. They had been that serious? I nodded and, again, had no idea what to say next.

  “Anyway,” she said, “I’m glad you’re okay.”

  I nodded. Before I knew I was going to, I asked, “How about you? Are you okay?” I remembered how broken she had looked during the memorial. She lost him too.

  She nodded slowly, looking at the ground. Slowly she raised her head until her green eyes shone again at me in the damp light filtering through the forest. “Yeah. I’m fine. I’m gonna be fine. More than fine.”

  Her last three words sounded different. Something in her voice. Something strong. I peered at her face. She wasn’t crying anymore. I nodded back and felt like I was nodding too much. “Good.”

  Esther saved me from another uncomfortable silence by turning and quickly walking away from the cabin. Her shoulders, drooping before, rose and straightened. I caught sight of her profile before she walked behind a tree and turned again. Something in her face had hardened, seemed almost sharp like a hatchet. Her eyes were focused tightly on the path in front of her. In less than a minute, she was gone, obscured by the trees of the forest.

  I turned back to the cabin interior. I didn’t want to sit anymore. Feeling suddenly restless, I left the cabin, turning right and heading directly into the woods. As I walked, I brushed the trunks of maple, oak and Douglas fir trees. We’d been out here so much, I could tell the trees apart by the difference in the texture of their bark.

  A few minutes of walking brought me to our vine swings. Mal and I had found them wrapped tightly around the trunks of some of the maples and oaks. We had tested the strength of the vines simply: by pulling them out and jumping up and down while holding tightly to them.

  Now the vines hung free, anchored high up in the trees’ upper branches. I grabbed the first vine and walked backwards a ways, climbing a slight rise. I sucked in a breath, said, “This is for you, Mal!” and jumped, pushing hard off the rise. Holding tightly to the rough vine, I swung in a long arc, first down and then rising. A smile stretched my lips.

  “Yeah!” I shouted, reaching to grab the next vine as the first one propelled me upward. Swinging like an insane monkey, I shouted at the top of my lungs. The wind whistled in my ears and the air in the forest filled me.

  It had taken some doing to arrange the vines so that me and Mal could do this. The old Tarzan show we’d seen had made it look easy, but the truth was that if you jumped from a swinging vine to a vine that was hanging straight down, you weren’t going to get very far. So we’d started by freeing up a bunch of the vines so they hung loosely, then we had to anchor them at an angle. It had been Mal’s idea to use forked branches stuck in the ground. After a few tries, mostly with Mal swinging and yelling at me that I needed to put the forked branch somewhere else, we got it right.

  We had gotten in the habit of replacing the sticks in the ground and hooking the vines over them when we were finished so that we could swing as soon as we showed up.

  I hit the high point of the last vine’s swing and held on as it swung back. At its lowest point, I dropped off, hitting the ground with my feet and letting my momentum carry me into a tumble. The pine needles coating the ground had been my idea. I lay on the ground catching my breath, staring up at the sky through the budding branches above me. The vine I’d just let go of brushed gently across my legs, using up its momentum. The leaf and pine needle-strewn ground felt damp under my back and head.

  My muscles sang from the exertion, my heart still pounding. This was better than incense and a glass altar. Better than ranting and boring hymns.

  Darkness had edged out the sun’s fading light when I woke up shivering. I glanced around, confused for long seconds. Pine needles dripped off my back. I grunted and blinked a few times to clear my vision. Getting to my feet, I looked around and got my bearings. I took a step toward the house, then stopped. I could walk the other way. Never go back. I looked the idea over. I’ll be fifteen in another couple of months. I could get a job. But who’d hire me? And I bet the police would look for me.

  Still. I let my gaze jump from tree to tree, not really focusing on them, imagining the world out there.

  Not now. I turned toward the house and thought of the vines. I knew I should reset the vines, but the night had grown colder in the last minute. The dark grew thicker with each step I took. Also not now.

  I headed out, taking a direct path toward the house. In a matter of minutes, I came to the cabin’s clearing. As I passed through the clearing where the cabin stood, I glanced over my shoulder at the door.

  Mal, blond hair shining in the dark, stood in the doorway.

  “Mal!” I lurched toward him.

  Mal’s face turned and looked at me. A smile spread across my brother’s face.

  I stopped, tight panic shoving my gut toward my back. “No. You’re not real. You’re dead. I buried your rose.” I closed my eyes and grabbed at the sides of my head, squeezing. What the hell?

  When I opened my eyes again, the vision was gone. My heart thudded heavily in against my chest. “That is messed up,” I said, shaking my head violently. “Come on, that’s ridiculous.”

  I turned back toward home, tingles still coating my skin. I consciously tried to slow my heart. “I gotta stop that.”

  I had to say it; had to repeat the words aloud. Maybe it would help the weird visions to stop. “Mal’s gone. Mal’s dead.”

  I stopped and faced the cabin. The visions had to stop. I didn’t think my heart could take it anymore. “Mal’s dead.” The doorway to the cabin hung black and empty in the darkening woods. “He’s gone.”

  The words hurt, but not with the same kind of sharp stabbing as before, but more like with an ache that might never go away.

  Seconds passed. I stared at the cabin. It stared back. The words echoed in my head, as if the cabin were speaking to me. Mal’s gone.

  Chapter 10

  “Hey,” Saul said. “Where’d you go yesterday?”

  I looked up from putting my pants on. We had to hurry or we’d be late for the Sunday morning Prayer Circle. “Huh? Me?”

  “Yeah, duh. People were looking for you.”

  “I was just out.”

  “Out with a girl?” Luke said, his smirk wide.

  “Shut up,” I said. “Although that might have been nice…”

  “You guys are nasty,” Saul said.

  “Thank you, Sanctimonious Saul,” I said, “for your lovely judging.”

  “You guys have no morals,” Saul said, pushing me out of the way so that he could get at his drawers.

  “Shut up, Sauly,” Luke and I said together. We exchanged a look and burst into laughter.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Luke’s the one with no morals. Don’t group me with him.”

  “Shut up!” Luke said, springing from his bottom bunk and grabbing me. “Who knows what you’re doing in the woods all the time?”

  “Come on,” I said, a bright ember of anger flaring at Luke’s stupid grip on my arm. I tugged my arm free from Luke’s stupid hand. “And making a gym out of trees isn’t messed up?” I headed for the door. “Moron.”

  “What’d you call me?” Luke shouted, lunging for me and getting hold of an arm again.

  I tried to casually shrug him off, but Luke was pretty strong. “A moron. Try reading some time. Do you even know how?”

  “Jerk!” Luke pushed me and followed as I stumbled.

  I wasn’t worried. We scuffled all the time. I stepped back when Luke pushed me. I planted a foot against a dresser. When Luke charged me, I lowered a shoulder and pushed off the dresser.

  We came together with a dull thud. Laura and Ezekiel’s irritating little dog, one room over, started barking. In seconds Luke and I were on the ground, each trying to pin the other.

  “Stop! You guys are gonna get in trouble!” Saul called out.

  Luke, always the dirty fighter, and definitely taller than me, reached around my neck, trying get a choke hold. I snagged Luke’s
right arm and yanked out, sticking an elbow into his gut.

  Luke grunted and swore. He jerked his arm free of my grip and slammed his forearm into my neck and began to tighten his grip.

  I caught my breath at Luke’s blow, the bright ember of anger I felt earlier fanning into a flame. Freakin’ idiot. I wiggled and got my left elbow into Luke’s gut. This’s the problem with Luke, he doesn’t know how to hold back. “Luke! Moron! You want me to bang my head into your face and break your stupid nose? Let go dummy!” I said. My voice sounded rough to me. The dummy was actually cutting off my air!

  “No! You don’t tell me what to do!” Luke shouted.

  Moron! I pushed hard with my left elbow into Luke’s stomach, but not as hard as I might have. Then I squirmed and got my hand on Luke’s right arm. Geez, I’m having trouble breathing! “Luke! Stop it!” This guy deserved a beating. He had zero restraint! But he was strong, too.

  “Shut up! I’m beating you like always!”

  You wish. I could destroy you, but I know what restraint means. A bright, furious thought followed. Maybe this once I should give you what you deserve. I got a hold of one of Luke’s fingers and bent it backward. Luke shouted and swore again.

  “Stop! You guys have to stop!” Saul said.

  “I got this,” I said, trying hard to fight down the urge to break Luke’s stupid finger.

  “I got you!” Luke retorted.

  I bent Luke’s finger back more. He gasped and his arm loosened. All at once, Luke pushed away from me and stood. His pale face flushed red and he was breathing hard. “You’re lucky I’m sick of this.”

  I stood, stretching my neck and catching my breath. “You’re an idiot. You don’t care if you hurt someone.”

  “So what? Of course not! I won!” Luke said.

  “Dummy. You’re gonna hurt someone,” I said.

  “That’s the point,” Luke said.