Элизабет Чандлер - Don't Tell

“Hey, Rocky. Wouldn’t Nick take you to school?” I let him in. When I sat down, the dog rested his chin on my knee, wanting me to pet him. “Maybe you can help, old boy. How are you at retrieving people?”

He wagged his tail.

I wondered if Nora was hiding somewhere off the property. There would be plenty of places in town where she could melt into the surroundings undisturbed by others — the college campus, the docks. I decided to search for her and hurried upstairs to put on my running shoes. The phone rang and I picked it up in the hall.

“Lauren? Frank.”

“Hi, Frank. What’s up?”

“Holly was over here earlier, looking for Nora.”

“Yes,” I said quickly. “Have you seen her?”

“Just now. I was chasing an army of geese off my lawn and saw her enter the boathouse.”

“The boathouse!” I exclaimed. “She’s afraid of going in there.”

“That’s what I thought,” he replied. “What worries me is that she, well — to put it mildly — looked disturbed.”

“We had an incident this morning,” I began.

“Holly told me about it. Is Holly there now?”

“No, she’s gone to school with Nick. I’ll check on Nora.”

“Is Jule at home?” he asked.

“Yes. Do you want to talk to her?”

He was silent for a moment. “No,” he said. “I was going to suggest that she accompany you to the boat-house, but on second thought, Jule doesn’t handle Nora very well. Don’t say anything to her — let’s see what’s going on first. I’ll meet you there myself, in case you need a hand. In about five minutes?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Frank clicked off. I put the phone down slowly. Holly was sure that Nora didn’t go off the property, and she was wrong.

Maybe I was just as wrong about Nora’s fear of the boathouse. Maybe Nora could pretend like the rest of us.

I went downstairs and called Rocky to take him outside with me.

“Who was that?” Aunt Jule asked as I passed by the dining room.

“Just Frank. I need to take some things back to him that were borrowed for the party.”

She nodded and continued with her needlepoint.

Rocky followed me halfway down to the boathouse, where Frank was waiting for me, then went off for a swim.

“I’m sorry to take up your time,” I told Frank.

“No problem. I thought about going in the boat-house myself,” he said as we walked toward it, “but I didn’t want to scare her and have her bolt again.”

The door was halfway open. “Nora?” I called from the entrance. “Nora?” I thought I heard a whimper and stepped inside. “Nora, it’s me, Lauren. Are you all right?”

My eyes slowly adjusted to the light. I saw a gray shapeNora lying still on the walkway.

“Frank, something’s wrong!”

I rushed to her. As I did, the boathouse door closed swiftly behind me.

I froze. I couldn’t see in the sudden darkness. “Frank?”

“Nothing personal, Lauren,” he called from outside, sounding as easygoing as when he’d said, “No problem.”

I heard him put the padlock on the door.

“Frank? Frank!” I shouted.

There was no reply. My mind raced, trying to comprehend the situation. Why would he do this to me? Why had he put me in here with Nora?

The thin slit between the river doors and the hairline fractures of light between weathered boards allowed me to see no more than her form. I took the last few steps toward her. If I touched Nora and she was cold — I laid my hands on her. She was warm and breathing, but unresponsive to my fingers.

People don’t fall asleep naturally in places they fear, I thought. I debated which to do first, get her conscious or find a way out, then I rose quickly. If Nora awoke and went beserk, I’d be trapped in here with her.

I needed the ax, the one I had left beneath the light chain.

Using my hands more than my eyes, I moved as fast as I dared on the narrow walkway, feeling my way along the wall until I touched the beaded chain. The ax was gone.

Frank knew it was here. He must have removed it — he or Nick. I was bewildered by his actions and sick at the thought that Nick could be involved, but I didn’t have time to figure out the situation.

Maybe the loft would have another tool. I continued working my way to the corner of the building and along the back wall. The ladder should be soon, I thought, it should be now. I should have passed it. I touched the second corner and my heart sank. The ladder, too, had been removed.

I heard a soft moan, then Nora stirring. I held my breath.

“Mom?” she called.

If she suddenly got up and fell over the side, I’d never find her in the dark water. “Stay still, Nora. Stay where you are,” I said, and began to retrace my steps.

“Mom?”

She might not become hostile if she thought I were Aunt Jule. “Yes, love. I’m here. Go back to sleep.”

“Where am I?” she asked. “Is this the place for crazy people? Are you locking me up?”

I winced. “No, Nora, you’re home.”

“You’re not Mom.” Her voice sounded clearer. She would soon realize where she was.

I said nothing more until I was four feet from her. “Nora, it’s Lauren.”

I heard her draw back.

“Everything’s okay. Just stay against the wall. Lean against it.”

There wasn’t a sound from her.

“Are you hurt, Nora?” I asked, moving closer to her.

She didn’t answer.

I took another step and crouched down. “What happened?”

Still, she was silent.

“Do you know what happened to you? Tell me so I can help you.”

“Don’t tell,” she whispered.

“It’s all right, you can tell me.”

“It’s a secret.”

“You can tell me the secret.”

She said nothing.

I waited a few moments, then tried a different tactic.

“What hurts?” I asked. “Does your stomach hurt? Your arm?”

“My head.”

“Why does it hurt?”

“Because I’m crazy,” she said softly.

I blinked away unexpected tears, imagining what it was like for her, trapped inside her own dark world. I felt for her fingers. “Take my hand and show me where it hurts.”

She guided my fingers. When I touched the crown of her head, she cried out.

“Is it sore?” I asked. “Is it bruised?”

She whimpered.

“Did someone hit you?”

“Don’t tell.”

“You can tell me. It’s okay.”

“It’s a secret.”

“When did your head start to hurt?” I asked.

“I don’t remember.”

“Were you in a hiding place?”

She was quiet for a moment. “In Frank’s garage. It hurts, my head hurts!” She whimpered like a small child.

In the distance I heard a boat motor. I hoped it was turning away from us and wouldn’t create a wake. “Did Frank find you in his garage?”

She continued to cry.

I laid my hand cautiously on her back, then rubbed it, trying to soothe her. The boat engine sounded closer. “Is the garage one of your hiding places, Nora?”

“Yes.”

Then either Holly or Frank could have found her there.

After her hair was knotted, Holly was scared and angry. Had she lost her temper? No, it was Frank who had lured me here, and most likely it was he who had struck Nora.

I heard the boat zip past us. So did Nora — I could feel her body get rigid. “Where am I?”

“You’re okay.”

She heard the watery movement and her voice quivered.

“I’m in the boathouse. Sondra is here.”

“It’s not Sondra. It’s just a wake.”

As soon as I said a wake, I realized my mistake. I quickly rephrased it. “It’s the waves from a boat, a passing boat.” I wondered if that was how these imaginings had startedsomeone saying it was “a wake” and Nora, haunted by the death of my mother, twisting the words in her mind.