Dead End Street Read online

  For their sakes, I hope so.

  CHAPTER 4

  Erin’s Tale

  Erin flung the pen to the bedroom floor with a grimace and a sigh. She glared at the fine-point Bic lying on the green carpeting, almost as if it were mocking her…mocking her for her inability to write a story for this afternoon’s meeting. Telling her she wasn’t good enough, or smart enough to come up with a story that was even half as good as Marlene’s, or even Peter’s.

  On the desk before her, a yellow pad stood empty, the blank pages staring, waiting for inspiration. But the only inspiration that had come were weak beginnings—words that somehow never seemed to fit together—and a plot that ran off in so many directions, even Erin didn’t know how to rein it in. These botched attempts at storytelling lay on the floor next to the pen, balled-up yellow reminders of her failures.

  “Erin! C’mon…supper’s ready.” The voice of her mother came to her from the kitchen. Her father, home from Weirton Steel where he worked in construction, would be sitting at the head of the table, his big hands poised over the bowl of pasta that was their dinner every Tuesday. Her older sisters, Lori and Becky, would be sitting there, too, waiting for the pasta, the garlic bread, and salad to be passed to them. They wouldn’t be saying much because as usual, they would be fighting with each other, or their mother.

  Erin would bring peace to the table. She didn’t know how she did it, but she had a way of bringing together the family, of calming them and making them a cohesive unit. Maybe it was because she was the baby, and they were all protective of her.

  As she stood, she looked at the wadded paper and pen one more time, wishing she knew the secret of bringing her imagination to life. Well, she would just have to wing it. The story was there, in her mind. Perhaps her only problem was getting it down on paper.

  As she headed out to the kitchen, the smells of garlic, tomatoes, and basil caused her to increase her pace. She could hear Lori laughingly, or not so laughingly, accusing Becky of being “America’s favorite.”

  She prayed inspiration wouldn’t fail her today…in more ways than one.

  * * *

  The cinder road to the Tuttle house had never seemed so long. It stretched out before her like a long black snake. Erin dreaded getting up in front of the group. What if she made a fool of herself? What if David rolled his eyes? What if everyone just stared outside, bored, as she told her story. She had never understood how people managed to get up in front of a group and speak. Erin was a girl who liked to stay in the background.

  Marlene’s story had been so good. How could she compete with a perfectionist like Marlene? The girl never got anything below an A in school. She always knew the right answer.

  Erin saw herself in the dimming light of the Tuttle living room, giggling and twisting her hair as she tried to explain why she couldn’t come up with a story. She also imagined how trying to get out of her turn would go over. They would not permit it.

  But the story was there, in her mind, just waiting to take shape, waiting for organization—a skill her teachers all agreed she lacked.

  Perhaps the evil spirit of the Tuttle house would possess her, and she would at last have those sought-after organizational skills.

  “You seem lost to the world.”

  Roy’s squeaky voice startled her out of her reverie. She turned and waited as he hurried to catch up with her. His face was red with exertion, almost making the freckles disappear. He ran a hand through his red hair and grinned at her.

  Erin knew Roy had a crush on her, and she almost wished she returned his feelings. Roy was a sweet boy, and he really cared about her, but she needed someone who looked at least twelve, hopefully older.

  “Hi, Roy. It’s getting colder, isn’t it?” Erin slowed her pace, and the two walked together. The wind rustled the remaining leaves in the trees.

  “Weather man says there might be frost tonight. Got your story all ready?”

  “Sure.” Erin looked ahead. Just past the bend in the road, the Tuttle house would become visible. For once, Erin was scared about more than just the house. She wished she could go back to the point in the road where it still stretched endlessly before her. Now it seemed like the house was coming up all too fast.

  “Earth to Erin.”

  Roy’s voice came to her at last. She turned her head to acknowledge him, wondering how long he had been talking to her. Wondering if he realized how vacant her smile and her eyes must look. “What?”

  They turned the bend and there it was: the crumbling white house with peeling paint. Why did it look alive, sitting there? Why did the broken-out windows stare at them? Why did the doorway resemble an open mouth, waiting patiently to devour the unwary like a spider in a web?

  Come on, Erin. You’re just being silly now. It’s just an old house, nothing more.

  “I was just askin’ what your story was about.”

  “You’ll see, Roy, you’ll see. I don’t want to give anything away. That wouldn’t be fair, now would it?” She grinned at him. “I wouldn’t want to spoil the suspense.”

  Actually, Erin would have liked to be able to spoil her own suspense and have a smidgen of certainty she would be able to tell a halfway decent story. One that would allow her to sit back for the next few weeks and just be a listener once again. She was a good listener.

  * * *

  They sat in a semicircle around her, each face upturned in the dimming light, waiting for her to begin.

  Pressure.

  Erin felt like she was in Mr. Pletcher’s science class, about to give an oral report. But at least then she’d have a topic—like phagocytosis or the structure of a cell—complete with a poster she had made the night before to fall back on. Now, all she had was the murkiest of ideas and no sense of where to begin. Her stomach churned, and she was afraid she would soon darken the armpits of her T-shirt with her sweat.

  Marlene’s eyes seemed the most intense in the fading sunlight. They bored into her, exposing her flaws. She wished Marlene wasn’t part of the group.

  She would have to begin. She spat out the first thing that came to mind, hoping like footsteps down a twisted path, the rest of the story would follow. At least she’d be done; it would never be her turn again.

  “Larissa is a funny name, but it’s what the girl in my story was called.” Erin gave a weak smile to the group and shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

  She looked past the heads of her friends seated below her and focused on a point outside the front window. She could see the hills of West Virginia beyond the valley. It was easier to look out there, to imagine a young girl named Larissa living across the river.

  Things started coming to her as the room melted away, and the view outside drew her along, almost as if it were showing her the story she was going to tell.

  “Larissa grew up in Chester, across the river. You all know what a small town that is. Well, one of the biggest deals over there is the annual Fellowship Banquet, held at the Grange hall.”

  Erin swallowed. In her mind’s eye, she could see the red brick Grange hall on Main Street. She’d been in it for a wedding reception. It was a simple structure—painted cinder block walls, green-and-tan flooring tile, long tables covered with white paper tablecloths, fresh ivy, and pale blue candles.

  “Hello?” David called out. “Is now a good time for you, Erin?” He laughed, but no one joined him. She wondered how apparent her discomfort was, wondered if anyone noticed how restlessly she twisted her hair. She gave David what she was sure he would have called a “stupid grin.”

  “The banquet was for the adults only. You couldn’t go until you were sixteen.” Erin took a breath. Where was all this detail coming from? “Larissa was especially excited because she had just turned sixteen and for the first time, would be able to attend. She knew there’d be a deejay playing music and wondered not if she’d be asked to dance, but how many boys and men would line up for the opportunity.

  “See, Larissa was a very beautiful
girl. She had straight blonde hair that hung to her thighs, blue eyes, and lips and cheeks that didn’t need blush. They were already pink against her smooth white skin.”

  “I’m getting so scared!” David gripped himself.

  “Shut up, David. Before I make you.” Roy grimaced at him.

  David looked at the others, his eyes wide with mock fear. Then he burst into laughter. The idea of Roy “making him” was obviously too much.

  “Seriously, David. Let Erin get on with her story.” Marlene glared at him.

  Erin thought maybe Marlene wasn’t so bad to have in the group after all. The girls had to stick together. She licked her lips and continued. “Larissa was the only child of Marian and Jake Adams. They adored her, couldn’t spend enough on clothes and other presents for her.

  “So Larissa sat in front of her mirror, getting ready for the dinner-dance. She ran a brush through her hair until her locks caught the light and reflected it back. She put on some red lipstick—her mother had said she could—and a little black mascara to bring out the blue of her eyes.

  “She stared at herself. Larissa was kind of vain. One of her favorite things to do was to look in a mirror. There were times when she wasn’t as pleased with what looked back at her as others, but tonight was magic. She was radiant.

  “Larissa knew everyone would be looking at her and talking about her—wanting her, if they were male…wanting to be her, if they were female.”

  “Sounds like Miss Larissa needs to be knocked down a peg or two,” Marlene said.

  “But she wasn’t really like you think, Marlene. She was vain when she was alone, but she was a really nice girl, y’know? She couldn’t do enough for her mother and father. She sang in the church choir and taught a Sunday school class.

  “Anyway, Larissa got up from the mirror and walked to the closet. There, she pulled out the dress she and her mother had made just for the occasion. It was pale blue satin, belted in the middle, with sapphire-blue beading on the bodice. She had gotten sapphire-blue shoes to wear with it. She hugged the dress close to her, wondering what magic the night would bring.

  “As dusk gathered, her parents sat together in their bedroom. For a long time, the only sound in the room was the ticking of a round marble clock on Jake’s dresser.

  “Jake’s face was drawn with tension: his forehead was creased and his lips were set in a line. He looked pale. Marian looked worried. Her eyes glistened with fear. Her lower lip quivered.

  “‘Are you sure it’ll happen tonight?’ she asked her husband, her voice quivering. ‘Tonight, of all nights?’

  “‘It’ll be tonight.’ Jake spread his hands in a helpless gesture. ‘It has no regard for what night it is, you know that. You, of all people.’

  “‘I know. I know.’ Marian stared at the faded rose pattern on the rug beneath her.

  “Her husband came to her and knelt at her knees. He took her hands in his, covering them. ‘It’ll be okay. I’ll control myself. I always do.’

  “Marian wiped a tear from her eye. ‘I know you will. But I can’t help feeling afraid each time. Are you sure it’s tonight?’

  “Jake stood, crossed the room, and pulled back the bedroom curtains. ‘There’s your answer. You don’t need me to say anything.’ Outside, the sky was darkening to purple. A pale, silvery moon hung motionless on the horizon. The moon was full.

  “For Larissa, the night was all she’d expected and more. First, and maybe best of all, Larissa found that her parents were not accompanying her to the banquet. Guilty at her pleasure that they were unable to go, Larissa still loved how grownup she felt because she was at the event without them.

  “‘You be careful down there,’ her mother had said as she helped Erin into the off-white wool coat she had loaned her daughter for the occasion. The collar was trimmed in real sable, the dark fur a brilliant contrast to Larissa’s blonde hair.

  “Marian’s eyes brimmed with tears as she looked over her daughter, smoothing the girl’s hair with one hand. Larissa wondered why her mother was getting so emotional. After all, she was only going to a dinner-dance at the local Grange hall.

  “‘I want you home no later than 10:30. Okay?’

  “Larissa smiled at her mother and gave her a hug. ‘That’s when it’s over, Mother, so that’s when I’ll be home. Where’s Daddy?’ Larissa looked around the living room and leaned back to peer into the kitchen.

  “Her mother bit her lip and her eyes seemed to become brighter, almost as if the question made her anxious. ‘He’s in bed.’ Her mother’s voice was barely above a whisper. ‘He doesn’t feel too well. That’s the main reason we’re staying home tonight.’ Her mother seemed edgy, like she didn’t want to talk any more. ‘You better get a move on.’

  “At the Grange hall, things went exactly as Larissa had expected. The boys practically lined up to dance with her after the plates were cleared and the music started.

  “She knew her parents wouldn’t like it, but she spent the entire night dancing with Roy Hebb, a senior at her school. Before that night, Larissa always assumed Roy didn’t even know she existed.

  “He was everything she could ever dream of: tall—over six feet—with dark blond hair and the beginning of a mustache. His eyes were blue, but unlike hers, a deep blue that almost matched the sapphire beads on her dress. They were ringed with the longest, blackest lashes she had ever seen.

  “And as Roy held her close and the two of them moved around the dance floor, Larissa found herself falling into those deep blue eyes, falling in almost as if they were a well, and Larissa had no way of stopping herself.

  “He pressed himself close, and she felt his breath, hot, at her ear. He whispered, ‘Couldn’t you and me have some time alone? Let’s take a walk.’

  “When he grasped her hand, Larissa could do nothing more than mutely follow. She grabbed the coat her mother had loaned her as they headed out the door.

  “It wasn’t long before the two of them were making their way through the woods beneath the Grange hall. Larissa could hear the rush of the Ohio River below them, and see it, too, since a full moon had come up as darkness descended, full and silver. It was so bright, it blotted out the stars, almost making it seem like day. A ‘harvest moon’ her mother would have called it.

  “The two of them strolled down by the river. A big maple tree had fallen over near the shore, and Roy took off his jacket and placed it on the tree’s bark. ‘Why don’t we sit down?’ he said. Once seated, Roy put his arms around Larissa and pulled her close. Their gazes locked and then Roy moved in so close she could feel his breath on her face. She lifted her face to his in the moonlight, closed her eyes, and for the first time they kissed.

  “Larissa was so lost in the feel of his lips on hers, she almost didn’t notice the howl. Almost. But in rural West Virginia it was hard to ignore what sounded like the mournful cry of a wolf.

  “Larissa put her hand on Roy’s chest, pushing him back. ‘Listen,’ she whispered, tensing. ‘You hear that?’

  “Roy paused to listen and shook his head. ‘All I hear is the breeze in the treetops and the sound of the river.’ The howl had gone as quickly as it had come, making Larissa wonder if she had merely imagined the sound. Or perhaps it had been the wail of a far-off siren or something.

  “She turned back to Roy so he could kiss her once more. Their lips had barely met when the howl rose again. A chill ran up and down Larissa’s spine, and her hair stood up on the back of her neck.

  “Roy stiffened in her arms, and she knew he had heard the cry, too. He looked at her, and his expression had changed. He was suddenly alert, attuned to the noises in the forest. ‘I heard it that time. It sounded like a wolf, or a coyote, or something. I’ve never heard anything like it. At least, not around here.’ Roy’s eyes shone in the darkness as he looked for the source of the sound.

  “Almost as if to accommodate him, the howl rose again, mournful and prolonged.

  “It was closer.

  “Larissa snuggled ag
ainst Roy, looking for comfort in the warmth of his big, well-muscled arms. ‘Maybe we should be getting back, now. I don’t like the sound of that.’

  “‘One more kiss.’ Roy leaned in closer, and his lips found hers.

  “When the wolf howled this time, it was closer still, and there was no mistaking it.

  “A twig snapped not too far behind them. Larissa tried to swallow, but there was no saliva left in her mouth.

  “‘We have to get out of here,’ she said to Roy.

  “Just as both of them stood, they saw someone coming along the very same path they had taken down to the river. Larissa tensed and grabbed onto Roy as she saw a silhouetted figure in the moonlight.

  “It was impossible to believe what she saw: the figure looked like a man, but the head was in the outline of a wolf with a long, drawn-out snout.

  “There in the moonlit darkness, the two of them froze. Thick woods loomed on either side of them, the river flowed behind them, and this rapidly approaching thing moved toward them on the only path out.

  “At last, Larissa screamed. Her cry mingled with the mournful wail of the wolf.

  “Hours passed. Pale morning light found Larissa’s mother alone at the kitchen table. Her eyes were ringed in darkness from not getting any sleep the night before. Her face was dull and wore no expression…she had all the life of someone who is shell- shocked.

  “Her head came up slightly when she heard the back door creak open. She could say nothing when she saw her husband, his clothes splashed with blood, the dark fur collar of her ripped coat in his hand.

  “Larissa hadn’t come home the night before.

  “‘Not our baby,’ she whispered to her husband. ‘Tell me anything, but please don’t tell me it was our baby.’ Her voice verged on the edge of a shriek.

  “Her husband’s eyes were empty as he stared back at his wife, slowly shaking his head.”

  * * *

  Erin stared down at the floor at the end of her story. No one was saying anything. She hoped it was because they liked the story. She didn’t know how she had managed to tell it, unprepared as she was. It seemed almost to have a life of its own.