Page 7 of Lost Echoes
He whips his head around, stalks past me, then opens the closed door.
Looks like we’re doing this. I glance around for something I could use as a weapon. This journal will do nothing, and this hallway doesn’t have much. It’s just Ryker, me, and this journal against whatever’s slamming the doors.
He opens one door and steps inside.
I hold my breath and wait, but then I feel bad. Ryker shouldn’t have to go in there alone, especially when he’s here to help me. I’ve faced off against plenty of other scary things.
But this house is different.
It scared me as a child, when I was most vulnerable. Though now it appears I spent time at Radley too, and I’m brave there.
I take a deep breath before stepping toward the room Ryker’s in.
A noise sounds inside.
My senses all urge me to run the other way, but I can’t do that to him. I always wanted a big family, and now I have one. Time to go see if he needs help.
I quickly tap a few pressure points. Draw in another deep breath. Let it out slowly. I’ve got this.
Just as I step through the threshold, I nearly crash into him.
He steps to the side before we do. “It was an open window. That’s what made the door slam like it did. There must be a cross breeze with another one.”
My knees turn to rubber, and I lean against the wall. “That’s all it was?”
“The simplest explanation is usually right.” He moves past me and across the hall.
I’m not sure that axiom is true in this house, though he may be right about this particular incident.
If he finds another open window. It’s possible the cleaning team opened some to air everything out and forgot to close a couple. Nobody could fault them for that. This wing alone has dozens of them.
Ryker returns to the hall. “Yep, another open window. No ghosts.”
“Don’t say that word.”
“Sorry, I forgot how much it freaks you out.”
“You didn’t spend time here as a child.”
“No, but I was harmed by the older Brannons as much as anyone else here. My wicked grandmother kept me from knowing my dad for my entire childhood.”
“The same woman put Kenzi and me in a mental institution because she preferred child-free summers. Let’s hurry up and follow the map one last time.”
He looks thoughtful for a moment. “I guess none of us have escaped their harm.”
“Only Graham and Carol, who married into this mess we call a family.”
“Let’s do this. It could give you some closure. Imagine how that will feel.” He gives me a bright smile.
Sometimes I wish I had his kind of optimism, but my distrust of the world has kept me alive through circumstances most couldn’t even imagine. How many people can say that by the age of twenty-five they were already divorced and widowed? Plus, I’ve been kidnapped, had Regina Brannon as a stepmother, and outwitted an angry bear in Alaska.
Now I can add being institutionalized at Radley as a child, even though I can’t remember any of it—or much. Only the little snippets and flashes that pop into my mind and disappear just as quickly. Hopefully, continuing to work there will spark more.
Ryker and I head toward the back entrance to this wing. As we near it, a painting on the wall catches my attention. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it before, and there’s something about it that makes me stop in my tracks.
The woman is dressed in Victorian-era clothes and is almost smiling. Nobody back then ever did for pictures, supposedly because of the poor dental care available. I don’t buy it. If everyone had ugly teeth, why would anyone care? It’d have been normal. Plus, painters could’ve simply made the teeth look nice. It wasn’t photography. This woman has something haunting in her eyes, like she’s holding onto secrets that could pull the entire world from its axis.
She’s a juxtaposition of conflicts. Her almost-smile seems genuine, but the pain in her eyes sucks me in.
