39
Wyatt
Mrs. Greenwood went to bed early that night. She knocked on my door at seven thirty to say goodnight, like she always did. I’d been thinking she missed having someone to say goodnight to. She always watched television in bed, usually late-night shows, but tonight was earlier. I heard a situation comedy with lots of canned laughter.
When I was sure she was snug in her bed, I crept downstairs and picked up the kitchen phone. It was the old kind, the kind my grandfather had had, that attached to the wall. Mrs. Greenwood said she had it because it would work even during an electrical outage. Grandpa had said the same thing, but I didn’t believe it. I thought the old people just wanted the old things. Maybe someday, I’d be desperately clinging to my old cell phone or computer, when there was something way cooler.
I checked for the dial tone. I could see the full moon through the sheer kitchen curtains. I imagined Rachel, seeing it too. Could she see it through her tower’s one window? I tried to figure out which way she would be facing. Was I facing that way too?
Then, suddenly, I heard a sigh. I jumped, but the sigh was not beside me. Was it her, sighing over the moon?
I began to dial my phone number.
She answered immediately. “Is it you?”
“Yes. Can you see the moon through your window?”
“I can. I hoped we were seeing it together.”
“Now, we are.”
“Now, we are. But Wyatt?”
“Yes?” I was whispering.
“Something has happened. Two things, actually. I’ve been waiting for you to call so I could tell you.”
“Me too. I mean, I’ve been waiting to hear your voice.” I sounded like a girl, but she had that effect on me.
“I know. I mean, me too, but I have to tell you what happened.”
“What happened?” I hadn’t really taken her that seriously when she said something had happened. I mean, what can happen when you’re stuck in a tower all day? And yet, her voice sounded strident with urgency. “Is it Mama?”
That would be urgent. If something happened to Mama, what would happen to Rachel? She would be all alone in a world she knew nothing about.
No, she would have me.
But she said, “Nothing like that, but right before you called, someone else did.”
“Who?” I hadn’t thought about it, obviously, in my excitement to talk to her. The phone had barely rung since I’d been here, but that was because of not having service. With service, other people—Mom, people from school, Astrid—might call and talk to her. I should have told her not to answer other calls. Wait, I did.
“Oh, Rachel, you shouldn’t answer unless it’s this number.” I hoped it hadn’t been Astrid. She would have gotten an earful for sure. “I’m sorry if anyone said anything—”
“Listen! Wyatt, it’s important. A man called, and he said he might have information about Zach.”
“Zach?” For a moment, I couldn’t remember who Zach was.
“About Zach,” she insisted. “About my father.”
“Rachel, you didn’t tell anyone where you were, did you? Or who you are?”
“Of course not! I just said I was your sister. And that’s when he said he had news about Zach. Here, wait. I wrote it all down: His name was Carl. You spoke with his brother, Henry. He wanted you to meet him at the Red Fox Inn tomorrow. He left his number.” She recited a number which I scrambled to write down. News! This was awesome! If it wasn’t creepy.
“But wait, if the guy didn’t tell you Zach was your father, how did you know?” I twisted around to make sure Mrs. Greenwood wasn’t there. I could still just barely hear the television upstairs.
“That’s the other thing that happened—the other amazing thing I had to tell you. I found a letter.”
“A letter? Like in the tower? From Mama?”
“No, from a girl. Emily Hill. Do you know her?”
“Um, yeah. Emily Hill is my mother. There was a letter from her?”
She nodded. “It was in the coat, the pocket of the coat you gave me.”
“The coat?” Danielle’s coat? Was it possible the letter had been waiting there all along? “What did it say?”
“It was from your mother to mine. My mother was pregnant, and your mother was worried about her.”
“Why?” In retrospect, it made sense, but I was surprised to hear my mother had been worried all along. Then again, she was probably worried about normal stuff, like whether Danielle’s mom would throw her out of the house or if Danielle would go to college.
“She said Danielle was talking crazy, about hallucinogens.”
The rhapsody!
“Danielle said it was destiny.”
“What was?” Had my mother known about Danielle? About everything before she sent me here? No, it was crazy.
“Emily didn’t say. She was trying to get Danielle to calm down, saying it would be okay, but . . .”
She broke off.
“But what?”
“I have to go.” Her voice was a whisper.
“What? Wait, Rachel. You have to tell me more.”
“It’s Mama. She’s early.”
“Okay. I’ll come tomorrow morning, early.”
And then, the line went dead.
I stood there, holding the phone, wondering if it had malfunctioned somehow. No, it hadn’t. Rachel had hung up on me. Then, I wondered if I should call my own mother, should see what she knew. She definitely knew about the baby. Had she sent me here on purpose to make me part of this?
I dialed her cell phone, but it rang and rang. No surprise. She was probably working late. Without my cell phone, I couldn’t text her. I’d call tomorrow.
Instead, I dialed the number Rachel had just given me.
Someone answered immediately.
“Is this Mr. Fox?” I said.
“Not the Mr. Fox you met,” a smooth voice said. “This is Carl, his brother. I assume this is Wyatt?”
“Yes.” I glanced out the window. It was snowing again. “Did you have something to tell me?” I didn’t want to give too much away. This might have been the guy who’d followed me. I wanted to ask him.
But he said, “I talked to your sister before. Henry said you were looking for information on Zach Gray. I have it.”
“Great . . . um, what do you have to tell me?”
“I actually can take you to him.”
“Your brother said he moved.”
“My brother, fact is, he’s losing it. He’s got total recall for a football game he watched six months ago, and then, he can’t remember something that happened yesterday.” He laughed. “Zach moved to New York City, wanted to be a rock star. But then, he moved back.”
“Oh.” That was weird. “Wouldn’t people know he was there?”
“He’s sort of a recluse, I guess. Doesn’t come out much. But I could take you to see him.”
Everything in the world told me to say no. No, I couldn’t meet him. But, finally, I said, “The supermarket in Gatskill? I could meet you there.”
“You’re really making this difficult.”
“Sorry. Someone followed me yesterday.” Probably you. “It was weird.”
“Well, it wasn’t me. I don’t get out much. I’ve been sick.” He coughed, a bad smoker’s cough that came up all the way from his chest, and he kept coughing for almost a minute. “Can we just meet outside the Red Fox? Maybe at noon?”
“Can we make it earlier?” I wanted to see Rachel.
“I can make it as early as you want. Eight?”
“Eight’s fine. How will I find you?”
“I’ll find you.” And then, the line went dead.