The Trespassers (6 page)

That night when Neely was getting into bed Lucie stuck her head in the door and said, “See, I was right, wasn’t I? No divorce, and Grub’s just fine.”

And Neely said, “Sure, Lucie. You’re always right. Everybody knows that.” But actually she wasn’t so sure. Oh, Lucie was probably right about Mom and Dad. After all, she had known them a lot longer than Neely had, and besides she’d taken all those college courses with titles like “Marriage and the Family,” so she probably was pretty much of an expert on things like parents and divorce. But she wasn’t an expert on Grub. Nobody in the world knew Grub as well as Neely did, and she was pretty certain that Grub wasn’t anywhere near as okay as Lucie seemed to think he was.

T
HEY HAD THE FUNERAL THE FIRST THING THE NEXT
morning. Grub picked out a place for the grave between the chicken run and the rabbit hutch, and Dad helped him dig the hole. Lucie helped Neely decorate the cardboard coffin and Neely finished painting Robinson’s picture on the tombstone she’d made from the central panel of an old chair back. Then the whole family made a procession around the property carrying the coffin and stopping in all the places Robinson had liked best—such as the arbor where he often slept on the sunny end of the picnic table and the vegetable garden where he liked to hunt for gophers. While they walked they sang
We Are the World
, which Grub said was Robinson’s favorite song.

Grub seemed to handle it very well. He didn’t cry, at least not out loud. Not even when Dad put the coffin down into the grave. When it was over everyone hugged him and said how brave he’d been and how proud they were of him. Neely said it, too, but she didn’t mean it. What she really was feeling was worried.

Something was definitely different about Grub. Something hushed and deadened. She saw it in his eyes and in the tight way he held his mouth when they were all hugging him. But there was no use mentioning it to the others since they obviously thought everything was okay. And Neely also knew there was no use trying to ask Grub about it because he probably didn’t understand it himself.

Lucie stayed almost until dark on Sunday and she and Neely had another talk while they were weeding the garden. At first they talked about Grub, and Lucie sort of said “I told you so” about how quickly Grub was getting over Robinson. Neely didn’t argue. And then, mostly to change the subject, she started talking about Willie and Dad and the valley property. “I guess there wouldn’t have been any problem if Dad had come home after he finished college,” she said. “Why
did
Dad stay in Berkeley instead of coming back to the coast?”

Lucie laughed. “Good question. You know how he’s always raving about the ‘old homestead’ and how he was born with the wild and wonderful Big Sur coast in his blood. But he just wasn’t cut out to be a Salinas valley vegetable farmer, and that’s what Grandpa wanted him to be. What Dad really wanted to do was teach literature at the university. But then before he finished graduate school he married Mom and they bought the bookstore instead.”

“Yeah,” Neely said. “I know about that.” She’d heard a lot about the bookstore from Mom and Dad, who seemed to remember it quite differently. Dad’s bookstore memories seemed to be about meeting interesting customers and reading all the great books, and Mom remembered worries about money and paying taxes.

It wasn’t until they’d pretty much covered the subject of the Bradfords in the pre-Neely-and-Grub days that Neely brought up the Hutchinsons and Halcyon House. The first thing she asked was if Lucie had ever met any of the Hutchinsons.

“Me?” Lucie said. “No, I never did. How old do you think I am, anyway? Dad remembers seeing all the cars going up to the mansion when he was a little boy, and then when he was a teenager I think he met Harold the third and his brother a few times. But even by then the family had stopped spending very much time on the coast. I think it was in the sixties, after Harold the second died, that they really stopped coming to Halcyon altogether. I don’t know why exactly. Maybe they couldn’t afford to come, or maybe they just weren’t as crazy about the place anymore. What made you think about the Hutchinsons?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Neely was a little disappointed that Lucie hadn’t much information that was new and exciting. “I was just wondering.”

It wasn’t until Lucie left to go back to Santa Cruz that Neely had a chance to talk to Grub. She found him in his room sitting on the edge of his bed, not reading or playing with anything. Just sitting. When she stuck her head in the door and said, “Hi,” he smiled and said, “Hi,” back. But the smile wasn’t real. He was in a mood, all right. A bad one.

Neely came in and sat down at the end of the bed. “Look,” she said. “I’m bored. How would you like to play a game of checkers? Or dominoes? Or maybe Scrabble?”

Grub looked all around before he answered, as if he hoped a good answer to Neely’s question were written somewhere on the walls of the room. Then he shook his head and said, “No. I don’t feel like playing a game. Not right now.”

Neely began to feel frustrated. “Well, what do you feel like then, you little dweeb? Just sitting there moping all evening?”

“I’m not moping,” Grub said. “I’m going to...I’m going to...read a book.” He got up off the bed, went to his bookcase, and picked up a book—without even looking to see what it was. “See. I’m going to read this book.” He held it out toward Neely and smiled.

There was something so pitiful about Grub’s phony smile that Neely felt guilty for getting mad at him. “Okay,” she said. “Read your book. But let’s do something special tomorrow. Okay? Something fun.”

“Okay.” Grub nodded, but his eyes said he didn’t much care one way or the other. “Like what?”

“Well... Neely racked her brain, and came up with: “Hey, I know. Tomorrow’s Monday. We could go to Halcyon House.”

Grub looked up quickly. “And go inside?” he asked.

“No. Not inside. We can’t
do
that anymore. It’s too...dangerous.”

“Oh.” Grub shrugged and turned away.

“Well,” Neely said. “I don’t know. We could just go there and see about it. We could visit Lion and see about going inside.”

“Okay.” A spark flickered in Grub’s eyes. “Let’s go see about it.”

B
UT THEY DID GO INSIDE HALCYON HOUSE THE NEXT DAY
because, as it turned out, nothing else worked. Nothing else—not playing with Lion or watching the tadpoles, even though they were beginning to grow hind legs and were pretty interesting, or making up a new game to play in the stable—did very much to change Grub’s mood. It wasn’t until Neely suggested that maybe they could go back inside the house again,
just for a little while
, that Grub began to pull out of it.

“Okay,” he said, turning quickly to look at Neely. “We’ll just stay for a little while.”

“Right!” Neely said as they climbed up the wisteria vine and made their way carefully across the slippery shingles. “Just for a little while—and for the last time. That’s for sure.”

Opening the window was a little easier, but it still required quite a bit of tugging and pulling, and while Neely was still working at it Grub squeezed through ahead of her. She was just starting through herself, on her stomach, when from inside the room she heard Grub saying loudly, “We’re only going to stay a little while today.” But by the time she’d scrambled to her feet he was going through the drawers of the dressing table, and when she asked who he’d been talking to he only shrugged and smiled and said, “Myself. I was just talking to myself.”

They started at the top floor ballroom that day and really didn’t stay very long, at least not up there. Just long enough for Grub to play one record and for Neely to walk quickly around the long room, stopping briefly to look out the window behind the bandstand. The one with the window seat in front of the great view down into the canyon and then on out to the ocean.

On the other floors, too, they moved fairly quickly. As they entered each room Grub ran around opening drawers and cupboards and making comments about what was inside. He found old clothes and papers mostly, but sometimes interesting things like a hairbrush and mirror set with tarnished silver backs, a beautiful crystal paper weight shaped like a rose, and a collection of fancy perfume bottles.

Sometimes Neely went to look at what Grub had found, but mostly she just stood still, looking and listening. Looking to see if Grub was leaving any noticeable foot- or fingerprints in the dust and listening for whatever it was she couldn’t quite hear. After a few minutes of uneasy listening and watching she whispered, “Stop that, Grub. Stop touching things. And come on. We have to hurry.” Then she went around quickly smudging out Grub’s foot- and fingerprints before they left the room.

So their visit might really have been a short one if it hadn’t been for what happened in the library. After stopping briefly to stare at the family portrait over the fireplace, Neely began to read the titles on the old books. Most of them seemed to be about history or travel, but in a small alcove she came across some old children’s books. She sat down on the padded bench that was built into the back of the alcove, and for a little while forgot about hurrying.

Most of the books were about animals, mostly horses and dogs. And the ones that weren’t about animals seemed to be about girls. There was
Little Women
,
Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm
,
The Secret Garden
, and some others she’d not heard of before. But all obviously about girls. Still holding an armload of books, Neely went back to look again at the portrait and particularly at the little girl with the big eyes and the faint sad smile. Then she went back to sit on the padded bench again.

There was a peacefulness there in the alcove, and a different kind of quietness. A hush that didn’t feel like a barrier behind which other sounds were hiding. The silence in the library felt deep and real. The alcove was, she decided, the kind of place where someone could come and curl up with a book and feel private and secret and safe.

Neely had looked at several books and was a page or two into a horse story called
Black Beauty
when she heard a jingle and Grub stuck a bunch of keys under her nose. Heavy old bronze keys with large oval-shaped heads, each with a decorative border surrounding an engraved number.

“Look, Neely,” he said. “Keys. There’s eleven of them. I found them in that big old desk down there by the windows. Let’s go see if one of them is for the locked room.”

As Neely stared at the keys she felt it again, the sudden deep beat of fear that came from somewhere near the pit of her stomach. She shook her head quickly. “No. No, we couldn’t do that.” But even while she was saying it she could feel another part of her mind beginning to wonder. To wonder if one of the keys would really unlock the door, and if it did...what might be inside. “Grub,” she said. “We can’t do that. We haven’t any right to open that door. And besides, the right key probably isn’t there.”

Grub looked at the keys. “I know. It probably isn’t. But we could try them. You know, as a kind of experiment.”

Neely took the keys from him. They weren’t like any keys she’d ever seen before. They felt odd in her hand—heavy and brassy. “Well,” she said. “I guess we could just try. But it probably isn’t one of these.”

She was still telling herself that the key to the locked room certainly wouldn’t be right there on the ring with all the others when they got to the door.

“Look,” Grub said. “They match.” He pointed to the keys and then to the bronze plate that surrounded the doorknob and keyhole. The embossed border pattern on the keyplate was the same as on the keys themselves.

“I know.” Neely nodded. “But that doesn’t mean anything. All the doors have keyplates like that. That doesn’t mean one of these keys will open this door. The key to this door is probably locked away somewhere in a safe, or a secret drawer.”

Grub nodded. “Probably in a secret drawer,” he said. “In books they always find keys to mysterious places in secret drawers, don’t they?”

Neely tried the keys in order, the number one first and then the one labeled two. When she got to number eight she stopped to say, “I told you so,” but then the very next key made a rusty clicking sound and turned—all the way around inside the lock. Grub reached out quickly and turned the knob.

The door opened on dark shadows and the smell of dust and mildew. Against dim light that filtered in through heavy drapes, dust hung in the air and swirled in small eddies where it had been stirred by the opening door. Neely coughed and covered her mouth and nose with her hand.

“I’m going to open the drapes,” Grub said. She grabbed his arm to hold him back, but he pulled away and began to make his way toward the windows, around large vague shapes that seemed to loom up in his path. Neely started after him and whacked her shin on something that made a creaking sound and began to move. She reached out quickly to keep it from falling and her hand touched something that felt like coarse hair. She jumped back, squealing with fright, but just at that moment Grub reached the windows and pulled back the drapes.

Blinking in the sudden light, Neely gradually became aware of a large room cluttered with boxes and chests and several pieces of furniture. Small, child-size furniture. And toys! Toys were everywhere, scattered across the floor, piled up in the corners, and crowding the shelves that ran around two sides of the room. Old-fashioned toys, the kind you sometimes saw in the windows of antique stores—old style cars, trucks, and trains, model forts full of toy soldiers, and model farmyards full of wooden horses, cows, and chickens. Against one wall there was a huge three-story doll house, and near the door stood a large rocking horse with a horsehair mane—the strange hairy creature that Neely had stumbled against in the dark.

And everywhere, coating every object and swirling in the disturbed air, there was dust. The thick, heavy, ancient dust of long, lonely years.

G
RUB CAUGHT HIS BREATH
in a long drawn out “ohhh,” and then sneezed twice.