Chapter One

The Green House

Life just wasn’t fair. Why was he here? Tomorrow was his thirteenth birthday and he was thousands of miles from his friends and family. Dennis O’Connor drew in a deep breath of humid air and coughed. “Are we there yet?” Hearing no reply, he opened his eyes and sat up. “I said, are we there yet?”

Moss-covered oaks created a canopy of protection overhead. But, even the shade didn’t reduce the stifling heat of Savannah. Gaps in the leaves allowed a torturing brilliance to stab through the covering. The light reflected off the slick dark hair of the driver. The man was impeccably dressed, flawlessly groomed, and as silent as a grave. Other than his greeting of, “Get in,” his only other words on the long drive from the airport had been, “I want you to go home as soon as possible and take your grandmother with you.” Denny released a pent-up breath as they turned into Jefferson Street and pulled to the curb.

“Get out.” The voice brooked no refusal.

“A man of few words.” Denny quipped.

Jeffery Bland’s head spun around. His black eyes glittered. “You think you’re funny. Hah, punk?”

Denny wrenched the door open and leapt out. His foot caught on the uneven ballast stones of the road. Only youthful agility saved his knee from a bruising blow on the high, stone curb. He righted himself, straightened his baseball cap and stared at the green house.

Like many homes built in the late 1700’s, the upper level was constructed of wood atop a brick first level. Two separate staircases joined in a graceful arch, giving access to an entry on the second floor. At street level, a small door stood in shadow. Denny could see it was padlocked and needed a fresh coat of green paint, as did the rest of the house.

A movement next to the door attracted his attention. He narrowed his eyes and studied an ivy-covered window, set deep within a brick alcove. Light played against its blackened surface. Shadows danced. Wind stirred the leaves. For just a moment, a tiny face peeked through the growth of ivy. Denny held his breath and took a step nearer. The sun glanced off a jewel-green eye, watching him. He took another step. He blinked. The eye was gone. A hand seized his shoulder from behind and spun him around.

“What do you think you’re doing? Can’t you tell that door’s locked?” Jeffery Bland pointed to the trunk of the car. “Grab your bag. We’re going up the stairs.”

Denny pulled away, but did as he was told. He was tall for his age. Lean muscle covered an athletic frame, which showed promise of height and strength. But, he was no match for the bigger man. He heaved the suitcase out and dropped it with a thud onto the sidewalk.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Bland slammed the trunk shut. “Do you think I’m carrying your bag up for you?” With a hard laugh, he turned and sauntered off.

Denny’s eyes narrowed as they followed Bland. “What’s that guy’s problem?” he muttered, dragging his case to the staircase and raising it from step to step with quick, angry jerks. Halfway up, he stopped and turned to look over his shoulder. Not a leaf stirred near the recessed window.

“If I have to come down there, you’re going to be sorry.”

The threat served its purpose. Denny’s head swiveled from the alcove to the man above. He gripped the suitcase and heaved it up the remaining stairs until he stood in front of the main entrance. Beside him, Jeffery Bland smiled, leaned down, lifted the case and pushed the doorbell.

Through the door came the creaking sound of approaching footsteps. Latches clicked, chains clinked and there was the rustle of several more security devices being unlocked before the door was finally unfastened. A woman pushed it open. Her brown hair was laced with silver and stuck up on the sides, as if nervous fingers had been at work. She was of medium height but bone thin, with thick glasses that made her blue eyes appear huge as she looked at Bland, then shifted her gaze to the boy at his side. With a small gasp, she opened her arms. “My goodness, Denny. I was expecting a child, not a young man.” Her soft southern drawl wrapped around him like a warm blanket. Her lilac-scented arms followed, hugging him. “You’re the spitting image of your father, except for this.” She brushed a finger across the fringe of smooth, sandy bangs beneath his cap.

Denny hesitated only a moment, then pulled his cap off and shoved it into his back pocket. He bent and kissed the offered cheek. “Hi, Gram.”

“Gracious, you’re taller than I am. Has it been that long since—” She broke off, her face pink with embarrassment. “I forget my manners. Come in, both of you.” She ushered them into the foyer, closed the door and turned to the man with the suitcase. “Jeffery, it was so good of you to pick up my grandson.”

“It was my pleasure, Elsie. You have a delightful young man here. We had a very interesting conversation on the way from the airport.” Jeffery looked down at the suitcase in his hand. “Where do you want this?”

“In Rob’s old room. It’s to your right at the top of the stairs.”

“I’ll take it up and be on my way.”

“Nonsense. You can’t leave. I have sandwiches fixed in the kitchen. I’m sure you’re hungry after that long drive. Won’t you join us?”

Bland gave her a tight smile. “Give me a moment. I wouldn’t feel right if your grandson had to drag this heavy case up those stairs all by himself.” He lifted the suitcase with ease and mounted the stairs.

Watching Bland ascend, Denny’s expression ranged from anger to puzzlement. “Jerk,” he mumbled, turning away. A flash of color caught his attention. In the well beneath the stairs, a potted plant and umbrella stand stood side by side. An eye peeked through the fronds. It appeared to be studying him and was the same emerald green as the one he’d seen in the alcove outside.

“Are you coming, Den? I still know how to make your favorite root beer float.”

Denny started and shifted his gaze from the stairwell to his grandmother’s face. Heat coursed up his neck and into his cheeks, giving them a ruddy color. “Give me a moment to get my bearings. I haven’t been here for some time.”

“I’m afraid it’s not quite as you remember.” His grandmother’s pretext of jolliness disappeared and a depth of sadness shadowed the blue of her eyes. She lowered her voice and whispered, “We’ll talk later.” Then, she disappeared into the kitchen.

“Tasket, he’s seen us.”

A rustle near the plant made Denny spin on his heels. His eyes returned to

the fern. One frond waved, as if from a breeze, but whatever had been there was

gone.

A second voice sounded from behind the umbrella stand. It held a melodious lilt that was pleasant to the ear. “Calm yerself. The lad can’t see us.” The floorboards squeaked overhead. The voice hardened, its rhythm brittle as rusted chains. “I dinna ken how, but Jeffery Bland is indeed back.”

“I told you. I never forget a face.” There was a pause. “He’s still staring. Why is that boy watching us if he can’t see us?”

“Pipe down, Charles. He probably thinks yer a mouse. Boys of that age have very keen hearing, ye ken.”

Denny backed up and let his eyes wander over the walls of the foyer, pretending ignorance of the conversation beneath the stairs. The appearance of the once-grand entranceway caught his attention. The walls were bare of paintings and the rich antiques were gone, their placement immortalized in the faded wallpaper, like ghostly silhouettes. Even the rich carpet had vanished, leaving a shadowy darkness on the bleached hardwood floor. Questions filled his mind. The look in his grandmother’s eyes, the run-down state of the house, all came into focus. “Where is everything? What’s happening here?”

Bland descended with a noiseless tread. Seeing the boy alone in the hall, he walked up to him and wrapped his arm around the youth’s shoulder. Denny gave a start and then a small yelp of pain as he attempted to pull free. “Do you remember everything I told you on our drive here?” Bland increased the pressure. His fingers dug into the boy’s arm and pressed it back and up. “I asked you a question.”

Tears welled up in eyes grown huge. Denny gave a sullen nod. “You told me to go home and take Gram with me. But, I don’t understand. What’s going on here? Where is everything?”

Bland grunted and released the boy, then brushed his shirt as if flicking away a speck. “It’s very complicated and your visit has made it more so. You have to believe that I’m only looking out for your grandmother’s welfare. It would be better for both of you if you went away.” He walked to the kitchen door and held it open. The smell of baked ham wafted out. “I believe lunch is ready. After you.”

Before acquiescing to the invitation of the open door, Denny turned once more to the stairs. He pulled the baseball cap out of his pocket, slapped it on his head, winked, then whirled toward the door and was gone.

“Did you see that? Tasket, I believe that boy just winked at us.”

“Aye, I saw that and a lot more.” The reply held a hard edge of fury. There was a rustle. The plant shook as if brushed, then all was silent.

deborah ann cidboy