THIRTEEN FOR DINNER

Twenty

TWENTY

 

            I can’t sleep for fear of missing the ten o’clock rendezvous at the carriage house. I also can’t sleep because I am as nervous as hell. The thought of traipsing through those secret corridors still frightens me, even though Quillan insisted that he is coming along. I am not sure how that will set with the Wilson boys, so I told him he must stay out of sight once we reach the carriage house. He agreed so I feel much better.

            I can hear the low rumble of thunder off in the distance. Another summer thunderstorm is brewing and I hope the cargo gets here before the rain does. The tolling of the grandfather clock echoes through the house telling me it’s time to head into the secret passage. My pulse races as I swing my legs over the side of the bed. Quillan is up fast too, which makes me think he wasn’t able to sleep either. He turns up the wick in the lantern and I pull on the bottom right hand side of the framed mirror just like Emily told me. It doesn’t move at first but with a harder tug it begins to swing toward me. Yikes, is all I can think, and suddenly I feel like Alice going through the looking glass and pray I do not encounter the Jabberwocky tonight.

            Quillan takes my hand and leads the way down the wooden staircase illuminating our path with the glow of the lantern.  The tunnel is bleak and rustic, giving no resemblance of the luxurious home it hides within. Etched on the walls, in black paint, is the location and entrances to rooms throughout the house. Bedrooms are numbered and other rooms are listed accordingly, Library-bookcase, conservatory-painting, Study-fireplace and so on. I think back to the night Quillan and I hid in the tunnel behind the crates and I saw Lunar leading the small family through the dark corridor. He took a big risk, actually coming inside the mansion himself and I wonder why Emily wasn’t the one doing the leading. But then again, it’s a good thing she wasn’t the one. Had I seen her drifting through the corridor that night I would have surely died of fright; funny how your perspective changes with knowledge of truth.

            “Here it is,” Quillan whispers as he steps back like he promised. Hesitantly, I take the lead, and when I do he pulls my hand stopping me. “I’ll be right here,” he says handing me the lantern, and the way his eyes search mine gives me the courage to push open the door.

            The carriage house is dark and quiet. I don’t see anyone and I wonder if I am to step inside and wait. Peeking my head out the secret door, I strain my eyes but the darkness is too dense to see anything. Cautiously I raise my lantern and it’s then I hear a rustling. My heart is pounding now but before I can squeak out a hello I see Lunar appear from the shadows. His eyes meet mine and I think I see relief melt onto his face.

            “The cargo has arrived Miss Avery,” he says. Appearing behind him is a man and woman and two children, a boy and a girl. They look more frightened than I am and for some reason that puts me at ease. Trying and put their fears to rest, I take the initiative and smile. “Welcome,” I keep my voice low. “Follow me.” Lunar gives a slight nod and the step into the corridor behind me.  Once inside, I pass the lantern to Quillan who leads the way back up the staircase. It’s deathly quiet; no one speaks or makes a sound. Even the children are following along in an eerie silence. We make it to the second floor and follow the passage way pretty far before we come across a second set of stairs. We ascend those and reach the third floor. Just as Emily said the rooms are all numbered. Halfway down the hall the lantern picks up the writing Bed 23- bookcase. “This is it,” I whisper to Quillan.

            “I’m checking it out first,” he says warning me to step back. This time I agree. He pushes open the door and steps into the bedroom. I wait behind the wall for a few seconds before he pushes it open and motions us inside. He has lit the lanterns keeping the glow very low but giving enough light for the small family to see the provisions available to them. The look on the children’s faces is priceless and I am glad the room is dim so no one sees the tears pooling in my own eyes. They act as if they just entered through the pearly gates of heaven. The little girl is gaga over the big canopy bed while the little boy is salivating over the spread of food Emily left for them on the mahogany table.  The woman is mumbling a prayer of thanksgiving while the tears stream from her face, leaving a glistening trail on her dirty bronzed cheeks. 

            “Eat up,” I say, while choking back the tears myself. Get your rest; we will be back at four. You have six hours.”

            The man nods in agreement while thanking us profusely. I feel Quillan’s hand on the small of my back while he ushers me through the book case. My stomach warms with his touch, that combined with what we just did gives me an overwhelming feeling of purpose. It’s a sensation I have never experienced before and I wonder of this is what living is supposed to feel like.

            We are halfway down the set of stairs when Quillan asks me what our room number is. My stomach drops, “I have no idea,” I whisper back, “I didn’t look. Don’t you know?”

            He shakes his head and I start to panic. There are at least fifteen different bedrooms on the second floor. “We can count out all the ones out that don’t say mirror after the number,” I suggest feeling pretty brilliant with that idea. After walking the corridor we are left with four choices that say mirror. From where we’re standing, they all look the same and in the dark it’s hard to determine our bearings.

            “What do you think?” he asks and I shrug.

            “Your guess is as good as mine.”

            Taking a deep breath he pushes the heavy wooden door. It swings slowly and immediately we realize we’ve made a dreadful mistake.