Arrival

The view outside of the van window shifted and changed, becoming more forested as we got closer to Grandma Angnes’s house. The roads worsened as our surroundings changed, going from paved interstate highways to asphalt, to gravel, and now, we were on a winding dirt path that was so narrow, should another vehicle come in our direction, there wouldn’t be any place to go. I was thankful the likelihood of two cars trying to use this road at the same time was slim to none--there simply weren’t many people out this way.

I knew we were almost there. My senses were heightened as I took in the thick woods. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for exactly. It was daytime; the possibility of seeing wolves in the broad daylight, even though the trees cast long shadows that impersonated midnight further back between the trees, was still slim. 

My mind wandered back to the night before, when Max had had his outburst while he was asleep. He hadn’t said another word after that, after shouting to Annabelle to run. I had stayed awake for over an hour, trying to get control of my pounding heart. I still wasn’t sure what it was about his cry that had been so haunting, but I felt the anguish in his voice as surely as if I had been Annabelle, standing in the woods, unassumingly, walking alongside Max whenever whatever it was that had caused his warning to reverberate through the trees had hit my ears.

It seemed ridiculous, the story I’d made up in my mind. I had no reason to assume that the woods had anything to do with whatever Max had been dreaming about, nor should I have assumed it was a horror story that had made him cry out. For all I knew, he was dreaming about a game he’d played in elementary school. Maybe Annabelle was a friend who’d been poised on second base when a grounder to center field should’ve been enough to get her feet moving, but it had taken Max’s stirring shout to get her to take off for third. That explanation seemed more likely--that it wasn’t a monster at all, but something more logical, more benign. Since I had no idea who Annabelle was and hadn’t bothered to ask Max because he wouldn’t tell me anyway, my only option was to lock the outburst away in the back of my mind and try to forget about it. Unless Annabelle came up again in conversation. The chances of that happening were as unlikely as me awakening from this nightmare that had become my life to realize I was actually back home in Sacramento, in my bed, and this move wasn’t actually happening.

A new smell hit my lungs, pulling me out of my head. I’d been relying on my eyesight to clue me in to how close we were to Grandma’s house, but the scent let me know we were much closer than I’d realized. It wasn’t something I’d thought about often over the years whenever I’d let my mind come back to this place, but now that I recognized it, I’m not sure how I avoided it. Even in the summer, the odor of wood burning lingered in the air around the cabin in the woods, despite the electric stove in the kitchen. Now, when it was a chilly spring morning, and Grandma was likely to be heating the house via the large fireplace in the downstairs living area, the odor of burning wood was pervasive, and I immediately thought of cozy summer evenings curled up in a large chair by the fireplace. Even without the fire flickering, the smell was unerasable. I wondered what it would be like in the winter time, with all of the windows shut tight and a roaring fire warming a frigid night. The idea that I would find out in a few months created a blanket of sadness that settled around me as assuredly as one of Grandma’s hand sewn quilts.

A flicker of red off in the distance was the first visual clue that we had arrived. Grandma loved red and insisted that her log cabin like home be painted a deep, brick red color, unlike most of the homes I’d seen in the area, which looked like something Abraham Lincoln’s family might’ve called home. Not that I’d seen many. Only a handful. 

The moving truck was having a rough time making it down this last narrow path, so Max had fallen behind us. I wished I’d ridden with him, that I could delay the inevitable arrival, even if it was just for a few minutes. But the house emerged from between the trees as we pulled into the drive, which was really just a slightly wider dirt path. There was no garage. Grandma’s old Jeep was simply parked on the path close to the back door. Mom pulled the van in adjacent and clicked it off, taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out, but none of us moved. None of us wanted to be the first one to open the door. Doing so would be an acknowledgement that this was our home now, that none of this had been a dream, but that we now lived in the woods in Montana rather than in our quaint little home in Sacramento where our friends, families, jobs, and futures had been. Out here, there seemed to be nothing but trees, wild life, and shadows. I wasn’t currently fond of any of those things.

The click of my mom’s door as it sprung open brought my head around with a snap. She’d done it then, been the first one. It seemed fitting. As far as I knew, all of this had been her idea after all, so it was only right that she would have to be the one to take the first step. “Come on, girls,” she said, getting me moving. Grayson would take more persuasion.

I hopped out of the sliding door and reached for her handle. Gray turned her head away from me, which didn’t help her matter much because now she was staring at the house. The curtains stirred in what I knew to be the kitchen window. A shock of gray hair and one nearly opaque blue eye stared out at me before the covering dropped back into place. I expected to hear the creak of the back door in a moment. 

Pulling the passenger side door open, I said, “You can’t live in the van, sis.”

She turned to look at me, her eyes vacant, tugging at my heart. “Would it be any worse?” she asked, her voice flat.

“It would be for me.” I extended my hand, hoping she realized I meant I wouldn’t be able to do this without her.

Grayson let out a sigh and slipped her fingers into mine, propelling herself out of the van just as the creak I’d been anticipating manifested in my ears. Grandma was coming to greet us. I should be excited to see her; it had been a long time. So why did fear bubble up inside of me as if acknowledging my elderly grandmother was a bit like admitting that I still believed in ghosts--in witches and warlocks and things that went bump in the night? It was a silly thought. I pressed it aside, and still holding Grayson’s hand, went around the van to say hello to Grandma Agnes. In the distance, miles away, the cry of a lone wolf cut through the stillness of the forest, settling into my soul and acknowledging that I was right to be afraid.