CHAPTER TWO: BREAKING IN AND DOWN
"Alright class. I hope you have a nice holiday and I'll see you next year," said Mrs. Turner as she let out her class for the Christmas holidays. Most of the students had already made it out the door before she quickly shouted, "And don't forget that your essay on how you spent your break is due the day you get back."
The door had slammed shut and Mrs. Turner was left in a ghost town of a classroom, a few sheets of paper landing on the ground as a sick allegory of tumbleweeds across a desert plain. She sighed and sat down to straighten her line of pencils.
Outside the school had become a smorgasbord of adolescents breaking off into their peer groups and lounging around before heading home. This was the difference between the secondary and primary schools, the younger ones couldn't wait to leave while the teenagers took their time before venturing into the outside world. The school grounds, some children believed, belonged to them and they could become different people once they came there in the morning and returned to being what society considered them when they went home.
It's that type of thinking that made Stewart Ward braver when he was around friends and less adults to tell him what he should do or how to act, just like his father always did. He was chatting up some of his mates when his eyes caught sight of a several girls nearby sitting on or around the bench on the left side of the school.
The girls looked like they were in Year Seven, a couple years younger than himself. Only a girl as young as that in this school would be in the position that grabbed his attention. She was lying on the grass, her feet up in the air and resting on the bench next to her friend who leaned down to pass her a bottle of Coke they were sharing. He could have seen up her skirt perfectly if she hadn't thought ahead and used her knapsack to block any view of it.
'She knows that boys look at her.' Stewart smirked and locked eyes with his friend Mark and nodded in the direction of the girls.
Mark glanced back at Stewart, "You want the blonde or brunette?"
"The one on the ground."
Mark leaned in to look her over and shrugged, "Her again? Alright mate, but you know how this story ends right?"
Stewart raised an eyebrow, "First time for everything."
Leaning back against the brick wall of the school building, Mark watched as Stewart made his way over to the girl who seemed just as eager to shoot him down as Stewart was to make her like him. Stewart may not have been the cutest boy at school but for a 14-year-old he was popular even among the oldest years. An accomplished cricket and football player he was never without friends or admirers. That's why Mark couldn't understand why Stewart had such a fascination for the Woodham girl, who hung out more with the free spirited crowd than mainstream kids. He had to admit it was fun watching her tell Stewart off without having to shout at him. She seemed to enjoy mouthing off and teasing as much he did, but she would always get tired of him and ditch the scene.
Moira didn't even notice Stewart was standing over her until his shadow loomed over face on the grass. She groaned upon recognizing the profile of his crew cut hair and the square shape of his shoulders. Closing her eyes she said, "You're blocking the sun, I'm trying to get a tan here."
"It's December." Stewart pointed out.
"Glad to know you can read calendars."
"My mate and I were about to go get a bite; you and your friend care to join us?"
Meeting the eyes of her friend Donna, the girls silently contemplated joining the boys. Moira didn't hate Stewart or purposely ever tell him to get lost; she could think of worse ways to spend the afternoon. There was just one problem.
"We haven't any money," Moira said. Donna nodded, "Yeah, I'm spent."
"We have money!" Stewart blurted before Donna had even finished.
Moira stared at Stewart from the grass, amazed at how far he was willing to go just to be with her. Inviting Donna was one thing but to pay for the both of them screamed desperation. Not necessarily a bad thing, she thought if he was willing to be nice to her for once.
Moira would never know what could have happened on her first date, because suddenly a voice cut across the near-empty school front. Moira looked up to see Jacob at the gate, panting as if he had just run like his life depended on it. He looked at her frantically before he screamed, "I think someone broke into the house. I need you to come home!"
Donna saw Moira pause for only a split second before she was up off the ground and running toward her brother in a panic Donna had never seen before. The last time Moira could remember being this scared was a year ago when they had to rush Angie to the hospital in the middle of the night, her stomach in so much pain she thought she would die. It turned out she had appendicitis and had surgery that night to remove the offending organ. After waking up from the surgery all Angie was upset about was that she couldn't see her appendix to say goodbye.
Reaching Jacob, he grabbed her hand and started running down the streets. Moira had forgone her bike to walk with Donna today and had wished that her friend's birthday had been that morning so her parents would finally buy her a new bike.
"How do you know—excuse me," Moira ducked under a woman carrying groceries, "How do you know the house was broken into?"
It had not even occurred to her until now that Jacob may have been mistaken about the entire thing. He would not live to see his next birthday if he was jerking her around.
"When I first walked inside I saw some of the furniture turned over and there was broken glass on the ground. No one was home." Jacob looked genuinely scared, like he didn't know what to do with himself. His eyes twitched and he kept his shoulders hunched and his arms out even when he slowed down. They came around the corner of their street and saw a crowd had gathered on the sidewalk.
And in front of their doorstep.
A small cluster of their neighbors had taken it upon themselves to gather and watch as a patrolman tried to assure them that everything was alright. "There is nothing to see here ladies and gentlemen. If you will all step back and please go back to your homes, we can clear this up quickly."
"Officer!" Jacob yelled.
The officer motioned him away, "Little boy if you'll please go home I'm afraid—"
"That's our house. I'm the one that called you." The officer tipped up his hat with his nightstick and looked at Jacob skeptically. Moira cried, "He's not lying, look at the pictures on the mantel. This is our house."
The officer told them to follow him into the house, keeping a hand on each of their shoulders. He led them into the hallway by the front door. From there the children could see that the living room couch had been tipped over and the floor was covered in glass from a vase that had smashed on the hardwood. A framed picture had also come off the wall leading up the stairs and had landed at the bottom with glass littering most of the steps. Two officers were walking around the house, lifting up their possessions and analyzing the scene.
"Dermot, are these kids the ones in the pictures?" The officer who escorted them yelled.
Officer Dermot glanced up at the school photos on the mantel above the fireplace and look back at the kids, nodding.
"Alright then young man, if you were the one who called then why weren't you here when we arrived?" The officer, who's name badge revealed the Anderson.
"I was using the phone to call you when I thought I heard something upstairs," Jacob began explaining. "I thought the robbers were still in the house so I just ran out. My sister's school is only a few blocks away so I went there to make sure I stopped her from coming in the house."
Moira listened to Jacob go on about how he's found the door open, and that they were home alone until their mom came home with Angie (which should be any moment now) and that there dad was working the late shift and they never had a clue where Tootles or Gram was before adding, "But that's not important because she's always missing before tea time and she won't let Tootles touch her tea after he almost poisoned us with his homemade lemonade—"
Jacob had this bad habit of rambling on about the most inappropriate things when he was nervous or scared, and it usually happened when he got bad marks in school. The officer grilled Jacob about all the specifics concerning the timeline of events from when he got out of school, to when he got home and how long he stayed in the house before calling the police. Moira could hear Nana III barking from her doghouse in the backyard, begging to be let back in the house, and she wondered if any of the neighbors had heard her barking while their house was being vandalized and turned their heads at the thought of inquiring if anything was wrong. He breathing had finally come to slow, her adrenaline started dying down, but the situation hit her harder than ever. Someone had broken into their house!
She didn't even want to think about what could have been taken, or what the rest of the house looked like. In her haste to run home her long brown hair had come out of her pony tail, small trails of it escaping and covering her flushed face.
Getting annoyed with Nana III's insistent barking, Officer Dermot reached his limit when he had to shout over the barks after having to ask again what time Moira usually came home from school that he turned to her and yelled, "Would you quiet that mutt up, please!"
"What happened!" Came a voice at the doorway.
Everyone, officers and children, froze in their spots when they heard Jane Woodham arrive home with her youngest in tow. Jane looked at the state of her house, the house she grew up in, and got this look on her face like she was about to be sick. Her eyes landed on Jacob and Moira, who didn't know whether to be afraid or flee into her arms.
Officer Dermot approached her. "It appears like someone broke into the house ma'am, but they've left the telly and none of the drawers seem to have been disturbed. Is there a place where you keep your valuables that we should be looking?"
Jane took a moment to address the officer, still stunned at the scene before her.
"Um, yes. Please follow me upstairs and I'll show you."
Angie stayed downstairs while Jane went upstairs to see if any of the obvious valuables had been taken or her jewelry box ransacked. The little girl looked up at her siblings after observing the mess before her, "We got robbed?"
"Looks like it," Moira said gruffly.
"Did they take any of my stuff?"
Moira sighed, "Nobody wants to take your shell collection, Angie."
"But it's my treasure. I thought pirates were always looking for buried treasure." Officer Dermot could be heard walking down the stairs, followed by their mothers clicking heels. Jane was assuring the officer that she noticed nothing was gone, "I don't understand, they didn't take anything valuable. It looks like someone wandered in here drunk and knocked everything over."
Officer Anderson piped up, "Couldn't have said it better myself. At the worst it's probably some kids from the neighborhood with a sick idea of a joke. You should actually consider yourself lucky. You lock your doors, miss?"
Jane shrugged, "Sometimes."
"Well I'd start doing it every time you leave house. Get the little ones here a spare to keep on them to get in. These days we can't be too careful."
And with that the officers left, giving Jane a card for a maid service that would come clean the home cheaply if they so needed it, and congratulated Jane on having a boy that was smart enough to call police and run to make sure his sister was safe.
Jane closed the door behind them, the first time the door had been closed since Jacob had called the cops. She stared ahead, but not at the door. Jane was looking at nothing, into a space only she could see to try and make sense out of what had happened here today. Her forehead came into contact with the door and she finally closed her eyes.
Biting her bottom lip to keep from crying, Jane tried to keep her shoulders from hunching and her face from screwing up. For a moment she stopped breathing because she knew if she exhaled that her children would hear her breathe quivering. She would not cry in front of her children. British mothers never cried.
She didn't feel the small hands clutch at her skirt at first, nor the ones at her arms or the one that felt for her cheek. She leant into the touch of her eldest, her first baby, and wished so much that she would stay this age forever. Jane had so much wanted to grow up, and though she learned to enjoy being a child on the eve her father returned from the war she still urged to do grown-up things.
But all she wanted to do now was be twelve again and leave all her worries to her mother. She didn't want to be an edge anymore with the break-in, the bills, and the new—
"Mum?"
Moira rubbed her mother's shoulder lightly, but it was enough to snap her out of the full daytrip she'd taken after the police had left. "Are you okay?"
Jane nodded, first to herself and then looked into the eyes of her children, the faces that belonged to her and her husband. She didn't want them to live like she did, always somewhat on the edge because of her youthful experiences with a certain pirate so many years ago. There were days when Jane wondered if it all really happened, that her mother hadn't just implanted this idea in her head and it sprouted full bloom one night after that horrible fight they'd had. The same way her mother and uncles brought Peter and Hook to life the night her grandfather threatened to make Wendy leave the nursery. It could have so easily been made up but this small part of Jane's mind kept doing a double take, always checking for a lost shadow or listening for the tinkling of bells.
He children were hugging her now and she took all three of them in her arms. Jane forgot all her worries then and there.
Her children giggled as she laughed at what the sight of them must look like: a huddled form of pathetic motherhood among a mess of trashed items. She said, "What a day this has been, eh?"
When the children nodded she smiled and looked at all three of them in the eye one more time. "Do you know how I know how lucky I am to have you?"
"How, Mummy?" Angie asked.
She wrapped an arm around each of their shoulders and slowly turned them to face the interior of the house.
"Because."
A kiss for Moira.
"As a family."
A kiss for Jacob.
"We will all pull together."
A kiss for Angie.
"And clean this entire house."
Jane smiled through the roaring groans of her children and led them into the kitchen where the dust pans and trash bins awaited them. While they got started she went to telephone her husband's work at the docks. The manager there had a crush on her in secondary school and always put her calls through to Jack. She told him very carefully what had happened, specifying every few minutes that nobody was home when it happened and nothing had been taken. He said he would leave home at once but she timidly reminded him that loosing half a day's wages was not worth the trouble and that they'd see him at dinner time.
For most of the afternoon they gingerly picked up broken glass and dealt with the array of neighbors who called on them and asked if everything was okay. The doorbell rang so often that they took turns answering and had the same responses for all of them: How nice to see you. No we're fine. Just crazy kids. Nothing important broken or taken. Why thank you for the dish, I'm sure we'll enjoy it.
There was soon a small pile of plates and bowls filled with casserole, pies and sandwiches left at the foot of the stairs. The routine of answering the door was broken when it came down to Angie's turn and a high-pitched scream brought everyone running to the door. Tootles stood at the door with a bloody apron, just coming home from his new job at the butchers, and Angie thought that a murderer had come back to finish them off.
Tootles hated it when kids were genuinely afraid of him. Sure he had played being a scary monster in hide and seek games but the children could hardly stop giggling enough to scream in terror. Now he had Angie refusing to even look at him until he had taken the apron off and thrown it out of site. She looked somewhat more relieved at Tootles holding his hands up in surrender but still didn't stop shaking until Gram came home and could hold her while Jane made dinner.
Moira sat next to Tootles on the couch as he solemnly watched Angie being cradled by Gram. Tootles looked absolutely horrified that he had scared her that much. "She wasn't afraid of you, Tootles," Moira said. "She saw the blood and just panicked. With the break-in I guess she just thought the worst."
Tootles nodded but his eyes remained fixed on Angie and Gram. Angie had begun sucking her thumb, something her parents had only weaned her out of the year before. Moira perked up when she heard Tootles mumble something. "What was that?"
"I just hate seeing kids scared like this." Tootles sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. "I guess it reminds me too much of when I was younger and surrounded by all the broken buildings during the war."
He moved his hand and the leant his face forward. "It's like looking in a mirror sometimes," he gestured to Angie and Gram. "It feels just like yesterday I was being held like that way by Wendy, when I was Angie's age."
"Back when Mum brought you home?"
"Yeah." Tootles cracked his neck to the side to get rid of the strain from constantly looking down to slice meat at the butcher shop. "Though sometimes I see pictures of Wendy when she was your age and I swear I've seen that face looking down on me and holding me like that." He took Moira around the shoulders and hugged her close and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. "Course with all the beautiful girls in this family it's hard to keep track of all of them."
Moira laughed and tweaked Tootle's nose, something she'd done since she was small, and he responded by blowing raspberries into her cheek as she struggled and laughed to get away. He let her go and told her to check on how Jacob was doing.
In truth he needed a moment to gather his thoughts together. As he watched her go he couldn't help but contemplate how lately his thoughts had become jumbled together, his dreams combining with reality so that he would start daydreaming at work and almost slice his fingers off. Just today he became so badly shaken when his boss picked up one of the fish hooks and was using it to wield around one of the pig carcasses in the freezer.
Tootles froze while carrying eight pounds of briskets as he saw Mr. Osmond slam the hook into the carcass and carry it with his bulging arms as if it were nothing. The way the hook so easily slid into the flesh and ripped it part of the way sent a shiver up Tootles' spine. He closed his eyes for a moment but saw a flash of red, not the color of blood but it covered a man like a coat, and he saw shining eyes that lit up when he laughed as the hook came down—
He had to open his eyes because of the jolt of fright that shot through him and Mr. Osmond yelling at him to stop looking stupid and get back to work. "Yes, sir!" Came his Navy riddled response.
He was no stranger to these sorts of dreams, he'd been having them on and off since he was a boy. He and Jane had worked out that they came from Wendy's Peter Pan stories when they involved Captain Hook. He was the boogeyman for Darling children when the lights went out. Tootles used to beg his adopted parents to keep the lights on after Jane had frightened him by saying Hook had stolen her away in the middle of the night.
"Why would he do that?" His voice was soft after only just learning how to use it.
"He wanted to use me as bait for Peter Pan. But the silly old codfish couldn't even do that right because Peter swooped down and saved me from the giant octopus—"
"Giant octopus? I thought a crocodile followed Hook around?"
Jane rolled her eyes and blew her short hair out of her eyes. "Yes, but remember Hook led the crocodile out to sea before coming back to Never Land. He'd thrown it off the trail but now the octopus got a taste and does the same thing."
Tootles looked at her quizzically. "How could I remember the octopus? I haven't heard this story yet."
Jane answered quickly, "Because you were there with me when the octopus chased the pirates in their longboat."
Jane's brother Danny piped up next to him. "I remember when we went on that hike through the plains and I almost bagged a lion. Do you remember Tootles?"
He struggled to, but faintly he could recall running from a giant cat and the skinned elbows from stalking an animal in the dirt. And the laughter of a gaggle of boys that started in the morning and didn't end when the sun went down. This was enough for him and he found himself nodding, "Uh-huh, I remember."
"Good, because I'm tired of talking about Hook." Jane snapped before turning to Danny. "How in the world did you bag a lion?"
Nana III started barking as the master of the house, Jack, walked in and saw that while most of the mess had been cleaned up there was still some fixing to do with his family. His youngest took her thumb out of her mouth and whined for him and he happily gathered her in his arms, rubbing her back and asking how she was doing. "Should we go see how Mummy's doing? I think we should."
Jack carried his youngest into the kitchen to see his wife's back turned to him furiously chopping away at what appeared to be a carrot before sliding all the slices into a boiling pot. Jack knew that his wife made stew when she was a) tired b) annoyed c) had pent up anger or d) all of the above. She had circles under her eyes this morning after tossing and turning most of the night, which with the added stress of the vandalism didn't ease her mood any. He heard her grunting and talking to herself as she viciously chopped poor defenseless potatoes with a little too much force and chucked them into the broth so hard that some escaped and splattered over the stove.
"Hey, luv," He said softly to get her attention. His wife hid it well but he still saw her jump before turning her head to face him. She smiled briefly before turning back saying that dinner would be ready soon, "I know it's wasteful to make so much soup when all that food was dropped off but I can still cook for my family if I want. But you eat all of it tonight because the neighbors are filling your lunch pail the rest of the week and you know how Mrs. Ambrose goes overboard on her green bean casserole."
Jane was talking about nothing at this point, and Jack knew that she was just trying to put on a brave face for him. He knew for a fact that she hated when anyone felt sorry for her because she thought that mirrored her being weak. The war years were not very good to her, he should know since he'd attended school with her through most of them.
He remembered how gorgeous she looked from the moment he'd laid eyes on her when he sat next to her in class when they were in Year Five. His father used to give him five pence to give to the church on Sunday but he would pocket it and conveniently run into Jane and offer to buy her something. If he saw her at the market he would buy her a sweet, next to a street merchant she got a trinket. He followed her around like an annoying puppy but she never once told him to go away.
Being the youngest of three boys Jack always had to fight or be a complete pain to get anything he wanted. If Jane ever told him to go away he was sure he'd be respectful and bow out of her life as she wished. At least until she forgot why she found him annoying and then he would be three steps behind her again. He remembered how out of place she looked whenever he offered to do something nice for her.
Smiling fondly, he often guessed that was why he fell for her so early in life. She wasn't spoilt or delicate, but springy in her step and tough with her fists. He didn't have to walk on eggshells or feel like he had to hold back about most topics. But the one thing that convinced him he had to marry her was that she laughed at his jokes; and sometimes at him, but not in the mean way. She was also the first girl to ever say he was cute.
Shifting his daughter into one arm he walked slowly towards Jane. She didn't turn around but could feel the heat of his body and then the touch of his fingers as he tenderly stroked her neck. The fingers danced their way onto her left shoulder and across her upper back as the rest of Jack's arm wrapped around her. She closed her eyes and lent her head to the right, seeking out the crook of his shoulder and nuzzling into it. Jack kissed the top of her head causing her face to harden while her emotions headed in the opposite direction. Tears threatened to escape through her shut eyes as everything from day came crashing at her like tidal waves and she found herself curling into him.
"Are you alright, Mummy?" Peeped Angie.
I've forgotten my youngest child was here, Jane thought, I really am a horrible mother. She opened her eyes to see Angie's face leaning against Jack's shoulders, staring at her mother with innocent concern that Jane wished she could steal. Jane didn't have to pretend to be happy at that moment as Jack handed Angie over, saying, "I think Mummy needs a squidge." That was their special word for hugs, something Jane had heard growing up whenever she was sad and her mother sat next to her or took her into arms whispering, "Give us a squidge, lovie."
Jack had never heard that term before and had inquired of Wendy what it meant when he was a teenager. "A boy we knew growing up used to say that," Wendy explained. "He taught my baby brother Michael that word and suddenly that's all he would say for wanting hugs. It just grew into habit after a while."
Mother and child were enveloped in a game of who could squeeze each other the hardest, and giggling and pretending to be out of breathe each time they tightened their hold. Jack started backing out of the doorway when Jane asked Angie if she wanted to help stir the pot.
Jack smiled, "I think Mummy's going to be just fine."
Moira had checked all the usual spots she would normally find Jacob. But when he wasn't downstairs or in his room she started checking closets, under beds, and even crept passed her mother and sister to check under the sink. It only occurred to look outside when she passed the backdoor and saw Nana III pawing at it. She discreetly grabbed her coat and attached Nana III's leash to her collar before yelling out that she was taking her for a walk.
The first pinches of snow she had seen all winter began falling after the sun went down and their small backyard, which looked beautiful in the summer, resembled a powdered muffin top. Nana III veered to the left heading toward the fence that separated their yard from the alley, the latch on the door open indicating that Jake had left the gate open so he could get back in.
Nana III pulled Moira through the gate to reveal Jacob tossing a bouncy ball against the wall of their house. "You know disappearing without telling us isn't going to ease Mum's nerves about today. What are you doing out here?" She asked.
He caught the ball and fiddled with it a moment, looking down. He finally replied, "Nothing."
Nana III scurried up to Jacob and received a pet from him. Moira raised her eyebrows and pulled the collar of her coat up to keep her neck warm. "You know, when I feel like doing nothing I like to do it in my room." She added. "Where it's warm."
"I'm busy. Go away." Jacob threw the ball so high up that Moira was sure it would disappear onto the roof and be lost. But it came back down and Jake let it hit the ground and bounce a few more time before snatching it up again.
Moira narrowed her eyes. "Yes, you look incredibly deep in thought."
It looked like that would be all that Jacob would say on the matter, or anything at all. Nana III began pawing at Moira to go back inside because she was cold. She had turned around to start back inside, not caring if Jacob froze out here if he was too stupid to go back inside the house, when something struck her right shoulder. The bouncy ball hit the floor and was immediately attacked by Nana III, while Moira slowly turned around to face her brother.
"What was that—"
"Do you even care?" Jacob asked icily.
"You talking about what happened today?"
"What happened?" Looking at her like she was crazy he started marching up to her. "How can you be so calm about someone breaking into our house? What if they weren't kids who did it, what if were a crazy man who wanted to hurt us?"
He was nose to nose with her, stepping on his tip toes in order to make his point. Jacob always tried to act tougher than he looked so Moira almost laughed when he put his hands on is hips for assurance. "They were still in the house when I came home."
Any funny thoughts she had immediately deflated her. She had forgotten about that, the whole reason Jacob said which caused him to run after phoning the police, all to make sure she didn't come home. She was only now beginning to feel moved by this, realizing that her kid brother was now the one who felt it had to be him to protect her.
It was Moira who had unwillingly taken on the role of looking after him ever since they were little. After all, wasn't it her he ran to at age four when Blake McCourt pushed him off his tricycle? Hadn't she been sent to bed without supper that very night when Blake's mother called to say she'd witnessed her son being dragged to the ground and had his head sat on by Moira, then seven?
She could see his Adam's apple struggling its way up and down to his tucked in chin. "Before I got out of the house I'd gone and rung the police. Just as I was putting the phone down I heard something upstairs."
Moira remembered him telling Officer Dermot that, followed by him running out the house to find her. He knew she was right there when he was relaying the story so why was he telling her this all over again? Unless he went up—Oh No!
Her face softened as Jacob stepped backward, making his way over to the brick wall of their house and leaning his head back. He opened his eyes but kept them towards the sky, "It didn't sound like footprints at first and with Nana III outside barking I thought that whoever was here might have left. I don't why I went up there, but when I did I just knew I wasn't alone."
While Moira listened to Jake she could see him struggle to keep his head up, like he was afraid to admit he'd been scared. "But the front door was locked and I knew they wouldn't have gotten past Nana III, so I was curious to how they got in. I only made it to the top of the stairs when I heard voices coming from your bedroom."
Moira blanched. "W-what?
She remembered checking her room earlier to see if anything had been damaged or stolen. Sharing the room with Angie, their beds on opposite sides to allow more floor space, there didn't appear to be anything out of place as she took a quick look. Some toys and books were strewn about the floor but there was hardly a time they weren't. Had something been moved? Did the intruder kick a book a few feet across the floor or leave an imprint if they sat on one of their beds?
Sucking in the bit of nausea that washed over her, she suddenly saw why Jacob had been acting this way all night. "But why are you schlepping around out here? Tootles said to come find you because I think dinner's almost ready."
A cannonball looked like it would have a tough time moving Jacob from the wall, "I just wanted to see how they got in, but I can't figure it out."
Moira raised an eyebrow. "They came in through the front door, didn't they?"
Shaking his head, Jacob mumbled, "No, the front door was locked." He paused before looking back up, "Moira, do you guys normally leave your window open?"
"Well, no. Not usually in the winter—wait! What do you mean the front door was locked?"
"But you do leave the window unlocked, right?" Jacob's voice had risen higher with an optimism that seemed misplaced considering the situation.
Moira huffed. "Why would I lock the third floor window?" Moira shivered, wondered if Jacob had at all noticed the dropping temperature. All she wanted to do was go back inside, the thought of the hot soup waiting for them made her stomach grumble. She was beginning to get tired of this.
"Because," Jacob lowered his eyelids in a way that gave him the debonair of a suave Sherlock Holmes, "That's the only way the intruders could have gotten into the house."
The sarcasm was not lost on Jacob but he chose to ignore it. "All the doors were locked when I came home. No way in or out unless they had a key and all the other windows were locked."
Moira gaped at her brother and struggled to find a retort. In a strange way what Jacob said made sense if the doors had been locked. Why he didn't mention this before flawed her and she had been too busy cleaning and checking to make sure nothing had been taken. She shouldn't have been surprised that Jacob noticed these things, him always being the one to notice the tiny details in order to solve a problem. He had always been a serious kid, but Moira had all but danced with joy when he'd started getting into music. She was beginning to think that there wasn't a creative bone in his body.
In most circumstances Moira would go along with it and play along, try to come up with exciting ways someone could have gotten in. But tonight she did not feel like playing. She'd begun feeling that way a lot lately. "Is this why you're out here right now? You were trying to figure out how they got in through the window?"
"Not just in," Jacob seemed glad to know that she didn't seem completely opposed to window theory. "Remember, they probably left the same way as well."
Moira shrugged. "Maybe they fell and we'll uncover their frozen body under the snow in the morning." She had begun slowly retreating out of the alley and toward their back gate, realizing that conversations like these may have been where Angie picked up her own sick sense of humor. "I'm going inside. You should come in too if you want to eat."
After a few minutes Jacob started walking in her direction, resigning to the fact that he wouldn't get any of his answers. Tonight at least.
Jacob had barely brushed past his sister's shoulder when he heard a soft sound come from under her breathe. He turned his head, "Yeah?"
"I never said thanks," she said softly. Her face became very shy as she had trouble looking him in the eye, "For stopping me from coming home. And going upstairs even thought it was scary."
Jacob couldn't keep amazement off his face at the notion that his older tough sister thought he was brave. He let a tiny smile that only Moira could see grace his face before he flipped his growing hair out of his eyes. "Anytime." He flashed his rock star grin she'd secretly seen him practice in front of his mirror before turning to go back inside.
A small whining noise caught Moira's attention before she could make it out of the alley. Nana III, who had promptly been forgotten about until this point, was pawing at the side of the brick house. Her long face was tilted upward toward the roof, staring at something Moira couldn't see. Softly commanding, "Come on, girl," she tapped her side to get the dog's attention.
Nana III darted her head back and forth between Moira and the sky, before begrudgingly padding back into the yard. Moira closed the gate behind her and set the lock in place, letting her eyes travel upward. The night sky was foggy and dark, with hardly any stars peeking out behind the clouds. Even the moon itself had hidden, being too early to rise as of yet. With Jacob's theory getting to her, her thoughts began to retreat to the very back of her mind where she kept special thoughts. They were just small thoughts that peeped up and told Moira to check under the bed for monsters, or that strong wind blowing her hair was from a dragon yawning. She imagined these thoughts had the voices of a smaller Moira whose favorite hiding spot used to be the bottom of a dresser drawer.
As she searched the sky for she knew not what, a small Moira poked her head out from one of these drawers and gazed as well before shrugging, "Maybe they flew," before settling back down and shutting herself away.
I want thank everyone who has made the first chapter either their favorite story or put it on their alerts. I thought it would take a few chapters to get that.
Also, something that used to help me visualize characters in stories when I was younger was picturing an actor playing them in my head as I read them. When I started writing stories I did the same thing, and since I'm good with photoshop I went a bit crazy and had some fun.
I've photoshoped a family picture of what the Woodham children would look like in 1966 using child stars I think resemble them the most. But feel free to imagine them any way you like, I purposely omitted certain details about appearance so people would feel free to imagine them any way they like. But I thought you'd enjoy, and there's more to come
To see the childhood photo, here's the link:
.com/photos/10766894N00/6219047549/in/photostream
