Like a rescued cat, he sprang to his feet and leapt into her embrace, putting his arms around her waist and pulling himself so tightly against her body that she could feel his bones pressing her bones. Sense memories rushed into her, the feeling of her own child in her arms before he had grown too distant and reserved, and the force of Nicholas’s faith and reliance nearly made her weep. His spindly body was crushing her, leaving her breathless. She resisted this surge of need and then gave in, mothering the child next to her breast, fiercely holding on to him.
“My goodness,” she said. “Whatever’s gotten into you?”
Sobbing, he burrowed deeper into the safety of her arms.
“Did you have a nightmare? Did Jack Peter do something to you? Did he hurt you?”
At the mention of his friend’s name, Nick let go of her and covered his eyes with a free hand. She hung onto him, searching his face for clues.
“There’s something out there.”
“What, Nicholas, what? You can tell me.”
“They were crawling like lizards on the walls. Babies.”
An involuntary laugh filled her with instant regret. She pulled him closer as though to apologize.
“They were just outside, all over the house, and I got scared. Didn’t you hear them crying?” Tears welled in his eyes.
Holly licked her dry lips before answering. “You say you heard noises out there, from the ocean?”
“Crying. Loud like a baby. And then I went to the window to see what it was. I’m sorry I opened it and let the cold in, but I had to see what was making that noise. That’s when I saw the baby monsters. They turned their heads and looked at me like bugs. And then they scooted away for a minute. Stopping and thinking what to do. When they came back toward me again, I got out of there.”
“What was Jack Peter doing this whole time?”
Nick paused, considering whether he should tell on him. “Just watching me.”
“We have to go see if he’s all right,” she said, and together they opened the door to his bedroom.
Light from the hallway threw a rectangular shaft across the foot of the bed. Sprawled beneath the covers, Jack Peter slept soundly. The windows were shut and the curtains drawn. Going past the bed, Holly speculated what she might do if Nicholas was right, if there was something out there clinging to the walls. The boy followed, several steps behind, shielded by her nightgown.
Facing the sea, the old wooden window frames were swollen and difficult to open. She maneuvered her shoulders so that she could give one good hard push and was thrown off balance when the window opened as smoothly as the door. A blast of icy air gave her goose bumps, and in came the smell of the salt water and the everlasting sound of the surf. Out there in the sand between the rocks was a grave full of sailor bones. In the bed, Jack Peter muttered and curled beneath the blankets, and Nicholas crept one step closer to her. For a moment, Holly considered asking him to hold onto her waist, but realized that it might be more likely that they would fall together if she slipped. Grabbing onto the sash, she ducked her head and passed it through the opening into the night.
There were no babies, no monsters, no giant lizards crawling on the outside of the house, not that she suspected there might be, but still, a faint disappointment clouded her thoughts. Holly knew she had to make a show for the boy, however, and so searched carefully in every direction, shifting her position to better see. Her hair blew across her face, and she was as cold as a stone. Nothing to be seen, so she pulled herself back inside and closed the window with defiance.
“I heard something out there, too, but I’m glad to say, Nicholas, whatever you might have seen is gone. Perhaps you just had a nightmare?”
“No, they were there, crawling like lobsters.”
The boy in the bed grunted and rolled over.
Holly gathered Nick in her arms and led him into the patch of light by the door. “You’re upset, I know, and a little scared and I don’t blame you. Lots of strange goings-on around here lately. How ’bout you come sleep in my bedroom, I’ll make a bed on the floor out of some blankets and a pillow, and you’d be safe as a kitten. I’m sure Mr. Keenan wouldn’t mind, and maybe then we could all get some sleep. And then it will all seem different in the light of morning.”
“What about Jack Peter?”
When was the last time their son had come to their room to be comforted in the middle of the night? Surely not since he had become an inside boy. But perhaps just earlier, she could not remember when exactly, there was a time when his fear or lonesomeness overwhelmed his reluctance for human contact. Five years old. Four? She sat on the bed next to her son and said his name, softly so as to not alarm him. He fussed, and then she was uncertain as to whether he really had been sleeping or if he had been pretending. Holding his hand over his eyes to shield against the hall light, he sat up in the bed. The hair on the left side of his head stuck up like a wild mane, and he yawned like a lion, a magnificent stretch spiked with teeth.
Speaking in a whisper, she asked, “Did you not hear Nicholas shouting and then leave the room? Didn’t you hear the noise outside? What were you doing in all this commotion?”
“I was sleeping. Why did you wake me up?”