Halversham Page 3

  “Why are you here?”

  “Just hanging out.” Andy shrugged.

  “How long?”

  “A month.”

  “That’s a long time,” Chuck said, rounding up the total. “Twenty-seven-twenty,” he said, looking at the cash register. Andy pulled his wallet from his back pocket. “Look, I know you’re from a rich family and stuff and you probably don’t need the money, but old man Milton up the hill needs some help around the house. His daughter from the city asked my ma if I could help out but I work here now. So if you’d like a job to kill time or whatever, just let me know and I’ll hook you up. I know how boring this town can be.” He chuckled.

  “Oh. That’s cool. I’ll think about it,” Andy said, handing Chuck a fifty-dollar bill. Chuck took it and gave him the change while he picked up his bagged goods. “Thanks. I'll see you around.”

  Outside, Andy rested his backpack on one knee, unzipped it, and stuffed in the plastic bag from Dorrie’s before glancing down the length of Halversham’s main street. Rows and rows of shops stood on either side of the street, advertising flowers, watches, a small motel, a gas station, a few diners, and other retailers typical of a small town. At one end stood Halversham’s train station, its tracks running across the main street. A steel-grey train stood waiting on one of the tracks. It was one of the smallest stations Andy had ever seen. At the other end of the street were rolling hills and a river that snaked through verdant pastures. Andy slipped on his backpack and turned left toward the hills.

  The main street was one long stretch of straight road, branching out to many smaller dirt roads and footpaths that led to farmlands and cottages along the way. Andy and his mother used to walk this street every morning when they visited. Though the sun was out, summer was always milder and more pleasant here. He breathed in the still morning air and sucked in the sweet smell of hay, which used to make his mother deliriously happy.

  Andy had walked for about a mile when the street tapered to a narrow road. Further up, Mr. Finney’s farm marked the official boundary of Halversham just after St. Anthony’s Chapel. To his left and right were green pastures dotted by tiny yellow flowers. He feasted his senses on the smell of cheese and the sound of cow bells clanging, both of them almost non-existent in the city. After three long years, he wasn’t sure of the routes, so he turned left and let the sounds of gurgling water guide his way. A few minutes later, he was standing in front of a wide river about three feet deep. Dark river rocks poked through the stream of clear blue water and a perfectly arced wooden bridge stood on his right, his mother’s favorite spot in Halversham.

  Andy paused to look at his watch. It was ten to twelve. He pulled the water bottle from his backpack, took a long drink, and looked around. The place was just the way he remembered. He and his mother used to spend hours on this trail, often pausing to look at an ant or a butterfly and to sidestep pretty ferns growing on the path. Once or twice he had heard her cooing to robins or taking pictures of fungi on decaying tree stumps. Andy continued walking after slipping the water bottle back into his pack. There used to be an abandoned hut by the river two miles up, which served as a marker for them to turn around and head back. As far as Andy knew, nobody went into the dense forest beyond the hut.

  Forty minutes later, Andy dropped his backpack on the moist ground and sat by the river to eat. Although badly in need of repair and most definitely uninhabitable, the hut still stood in the exact same spot. He unzipped his bag and took out Piffy’s lunch bag, thinking he’d have salad, sandwich, and some juice while listening to water gurgling in the river. He used to picnic here with his mother from time to time, and she would tell him stories of her childhood and how she met his father. Those were the good old days, and Andy vowed to always remember the simple pleasures of a modest life despite his father’s obvious wealth.

  After lunch, he headed back to the wooden bridge and passed through the same ferns and aspens that decorated the route. He crossed the bridge and smiled at trout jumping from the stream below. It wasn’t the most exotic experience, but it was enough to excite him, along with the fact that he was fast approaching the foothill.

  Andy’s mother loved two things most in Halversham: first, her long, quiet walks along the river, and second, feeding stray dogs. Although Andy enjoyed the quiet walks immensely, he liked feeding the strays more. They were such joyful, faultless creatures, it was impossible not to feel connected to them. He had never had a dog for a pet before, but he’d seen enough people walking theirs in the city. So when his mother took him to feed the strays in Halversham for the first time seven years ago, he was beyond excited.

  He cut through a green field and saw Mr. Milton’s place, the only house on the crest of the hill. A long stretch of steps leading up to the house was carved into the side of the hill and reinforced with tree roots. The property used to be open, but now it was fenced. Andy trudged to the foot of the hill where his mother used to call out to the strays and paused to drink some water. The sun was directly above his head now, but it wasn’t scorching. In fact, it warmed his skin pleasantly against the cool breeze. Andy lay on the grass next to a birch tree and linked his fingers behind his head to watch cottony white clouds shift across the blue sky. He tried to see shapes and make stories out of them, but it wasn’t as much fun without his mother.

  Minutes later, Andy rose and retrieved the plastic bag from Dorrie’s. He tore open a packet of dog treats and let the wind carry the scent for a while before whistling the way his mother used to. Usually, eight to twelve dogs and their puppies would come tripping over one another, wagging their tails and drooling. But this time, the place was silent, and no dogs came clamoring for treats. He continued whistling, but after a full minute and no dogs, Andy wondered if he was doing it right. He shook the treats packet and altered the tune of his whistle slightly, but still no luck. After another long minute, one lone dog poked its head out from around a large rock.

  “Come here, boy, come and get it,” Andy cooed, crouching on the ground. He picked up a bone-shaped biscuit and waved it. The dog glanced at the pastures, looked at him, and blinked. “Come here, boy,” Andy said again.

  The dog stepped out from behind the rock and lifted its nose, sniffing the air. The dog’s ribs made ripples on its skin as it took tentative steps toward him, tail between its legs. Andy was still waving the treat, but the dog stopped midway, refusing to come any closer despite being obviously famished. Finally, Andy tossed the treat at the dog’s feet and the hungry animal gobbled it up. He waved another one, but again the dog blinked and sniffed the ground, refusing to come closer. Andy tossed this treat too, and this time the dog caught it in its mouth.

  After four more pieces, the dog was finally confident enough to come closer and sniff the treat in Andy’s hand. He took a chance and stroked the lonely animal. Since the dog looked emaciated and there were no others, Andy opened another packet. And another. He stayed petting the dog for half an hour, and then unpacked Piffy’s snacks and shared his biscuits and cheese with the dog. When he ran out of food, the dog sniffed his backpack. Realizing there was nothing left, it retreated to its rock.

  Andy zipped up his bag, slung it on his shoulders, and left the place somewhat confused. There used to be many more plump dogs and puppies, and they would jump and groan in excitement whenever Patricia whistled. His mother even named each of them, and over time, they had learned to respond to their names. But today, Parky, Beth, Woolly, Frisk, Tintan, and the rest were missing. Only one was left, and it was skinny beyond recognition.

  On his way back, Andy stopped by Aunt Magda’s to say hello to his cousin. Her dogs, Jetta and Toddy, were left loose and they came to sniff his shoes, wagging their tails while the geese cackled.

  “Aunt Magda!” he called from the front door, rubbing the dogs’ heads. “Are you in there?” It was still early for Uncle Matt to be home, so he tried calling for Corrine when there was no response. A second later, Aunt Magda’s face appeared from around the corner. She h
ad a large bowl resting on her hip and one hand was in it, covered in grains. An apron was tied around her waist and her hair was covered in a floral print bandanna.

  “Hi Andy,” she said when she saw him. “I was just about to feed the geese. Why don’t you go in? I’ll be right along.”

  “That’s okay. I’ll watch while you feed them.”

  “We used to have a lot more, but we sold ten of them early this year. Now there’s only eight.” Aunt Magda leaned forward and filled a long feed tray with grains as the geese flocked around her, honking noisily. Next, she filled a huge concrete tank in the back with water, and bits of cabbages and cauliflower foliage.

  “Why’s this one different?” Andy asked, pointing at a goose with crooked wings.

  “Oh, that’s Buck. He’s got angel wings.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The feathers come out crooked like that when the goose is poorly fed. Somebody gave Buck to us and we decided to keep him. Right, Buck?” she asked the feeding goose, smiling. Aunt Magda washed her hands in a sink outside and headed in through the back door.

  “Is Corrine home?”

  “Corrine and your Uncle Matt aren’t home yet.”

  “When will they be around?”

  “Late. Like father like daughter.” Aunt Magda rolled her eyes as they walked into the kitchen. “Why don’t you stay for dinner?”

  She opened the lid on a pan to stir chicken soup simmering on a stove and his mouth watered at the tantalizing aroma. It had been a long time since Andy had her delicious soup.

  “I’d like that.”

  She nodded and smiled. “Good. So, what did you do all day?”

  “Nothing much. I went for a walk around Halversham. Walked along the river bank, went to the foothill.”

  “You know, your mother used to do that. She loved walking by the river and her skin would glow when she came back,” Magda said before tasting her soup. Then, placing the ladle by the side, she added, “She was one of a kind.”

  “I know.”

  Aunt Magda nodded thoughtfully and they remained silent for a minute. Seconds later, she sighed and stared out the kitchen window. “You know, I—I wanted to come to the funeral,” she stammered. “I really did. I even saved some money and bought a cheap black dress, but…” She sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t make it,” she said and wiped her eyes discreetly.

  “It’s okay. I know you would have made it if you could've. Mom would have understood.” Especially if it had something to do with Uncle Matt, Andy thought.

  She nodded with a sad smile and turned to the cluttered countertop. There was some dough in a container and she busied herself kneading it. It was typical of Aunt Magda. In all the time Andy had known her, she was always working, whether kneading dough or cleaning the yard or feeding livestock. She made glorious breads and cakes and sold them to the townsfolk to supplement Uncle Matt’s farming income, which was virtually nonexistent. What little money he brought home after drinking away a tidy sum was never enough, forcing Aunt Magda to come up with ingenious ways to make ends meet without her husband’s knowledge.

  Andy’s father paid Aunt Magda a generous amount to take care of the farmhouse. But because this was within Uncle Matt’s realm of knowledge, he usually took a chunk of it, leaving little to run the household on. Fortunately, the couple had no more than one child. Unfortunately, that child was Corrine.

  “Do you know what happened to the dogs by the hill, Aunt Magda?” he asked to break the building tension.

  “What dogs?”

  “The stray dogs. Mom and I used to feed them whenever we went to the foothill. I was there today. I whistled for as long as I could, but only one appeared. I’m just wondering what happened to the rest.”

  “That’s strange. I don’t go to those parts, so I don’t really know what happened. But if they’re strays, maybe somebody caught them and sent them away.” Aunt Magda shrugged. Andy gave it some thought while she put the dough away again. She went back to the stove and turned off the fire. “Did you go up the hill?”

  “No. But Mr. Milton seems to have fenced his property.”

  “Maybe he’s up to something. Who knows?” she said, shrugging again.

  “I met Chuck Navasky today, and he told me Mr. Milton’s daughter is looking for someone to help him around the house. He said the job is mine if I wanted it.”

  “Old man Milton? You can’t work for him,” Aunt Magda said incredulously.

  “Why?”

  “Don’t you know anything about him?”

  “Like what?”

  “The man’s a monster, Andy. He hardly comes down from the hill, but whenever he does, he never fails to cause mayhem and misery. He curses at children and torments animals. Once when Corrine was seven or eight, he made her get in his car and kicked her out in the forest just before the main street. Poor child had to walk all the way home on her own. I mean, I know she can be a lot to handle, but that’s no reason to do what he did.”

  “That’s terrible,” Andy said.

  “A few years back, James Doyne told me he suspected the old man to have killed his cat. It was a nice plump Siamese, too. Milton came down to buy chicken from James one day and the cat happened to be roaming in the yard. James remembered seeing the old man staring at his cat. Then a few hours later, when it was feeding time, his wife Alicia called out for the cat, but it never came. It had vanished,” Aunt Magda said, motioning with her hands for effect. “The poor Doynes. And I heard that’s not the only thing Milton did to them.” Aunt Magda hesitated, then shook her head. “I’ve heard so many stories, I’m not sure what to believe anymore. One thing is for certain: the man’s evil and I’d say it’s best if you stayed away from him. What would I tell your father if something happened to you up there?”

  Milton sounded like a horrible person. Andy had a lot of respect for Aunt Magda, but still, he refused to believe rumors before verifying the facts.

  “Anyway, you’re a man now. I’m sure you know what to do. If you want a job or something, you can work at the diner or Dorrie’s, and I’ll be glad to put in a good word for you. It’s getting dark. Let me get you dinner. Have a nice bowl of chicken soup and bread, eh?”

  “I’d love that.”

  “Good. Come over and grab a chair,” she said, pointing at the wooden table in the dining room. “I’ll be right back.”

  A minute later, Aunt Magda reappeared with a wide plate in her hands. Andy’s stomach groaned at the sight of the big bowl and bread on the plate. She placed it in front of him and warm steam rose deliciously.

  “Won’t you join me, Aunt Magda?”

  “Why not?”

  She went to the kitchen and came back with another bowl of soup. Andy grabbed his spoon and slurped the hot soup slowly as she took a seat. The mix of herbs and chicken tasted heavenly. He tore the aromatic bread, dunked it in the soup, and pushed it into his mouth. A warm, silky sensation slithered along his taste buds and Andy closed his eyes to savor the delightful flavor. Aunt Magda watched in amusement while sipping her own soup. When he had thoroughly enjoyed the little feast, he looked up at Aunt Magda and asked her about the one thing that had been bothering him since the day he arrived.

  “Aunt Magda, you said Corrine dropped out of school, but where is she?” Corrine’s unexplained absence seemed a little too conspicuous to ignore.

  His aunt’s face changed and she rested her spoon on the plate. There was a hint of hopelessness in her eyes. “I don’t know where she is,” she said. “She wakes up around ten and leaves the house almost immediately—wanders about town, I suspect—before returning just after midnight. I don’t know where she goes or who she’s with.”

  “Did you try talking to her?”

  She nodded slowly. “She hardly talks to me. To anyone. She stares into space whenever anyone asks her anything. Her answers, when she chooses to answer, are always rude and scathing. It’s like she’s gone mad and I don’t know how to reach her.”
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br />   “How long has she been like this?”

  “Well, she dropped out of school when she was thirteen. That’s when she stopped talking.”

  “But that was three years ago. Didn’t you take her to see a doctor or something?”

  Aunt Magda’s eyes sagged and her lips made a sad curve. “I tried. Believe me, Andy, I tried. But Corrine’s father…” She broke down then and wept into her hands, letting out deep sobs from the depths of anguish. A few minutes later, she raised her head and wiped the tears off her face. “I saved some money to see a doctor without his knowledge, but one day he found it. I tried to explain Corrine’s condition to him, but he said it was useless. So he took the money and left.”

  “Why didn’t you tell my father? He could have helped.”

  She sniffled and shook her head. Her cheeks were wet with tears and her face contorted in grief. “You have no idea how much I already owe your father, Andy. And what with your mother sick, I couldn’t add to his burden.”

  “But I’m sure he would have helped. Even now.” Andy’s father might have been absent a great deal, but he had always provided for his loved ones.

  She wiped her face and shook her head again. “I was so glad when Paulie called the neighbor to say you were planning to spend some time here.” She absently pinched off a piece of bread. “I was hoping you could talk to her and find out what’s going on. She was a fearless little devil when she was a kid, and I had hoped she’d outgrow it when she became a teenager. But now that she’s sixteen, she’s only gotten worse. She isn’t much more compassionate than she was before, and she argues with the townsfolk. There isn’t a single person in this town with a nice thing to say about her. Crazy Corrine. That’s what people call her. Even when she was just a child. They think I don’t know it, but I do.”

  A pang of guilt pierced Andy’s heart. Did he not call her Crazy Cousin Corrine?

  “Now it seems like she really is crazy.” Fresh tears formed in her eyes and poured down. “I am terrified for her, Andy. Her father doesn’t give a damn and I don’t know what to do. She’s young and has her whole life ahead of her.” Aunt Magda reached for his hand and clasped it in hers. “Will you please try and talk to her? Will you try to reach my daughter? You two used to be close. Maybe she’ll open up to you.”