Last Updated: 10/27/2020
Status: Completed
Part 1
It was a crisp autumn day when the moving van, stuffed to the very top, turned onto the long dirt driveway that led to the old farmhouse. From the car following behind, ten-year-old Rupert Laust shrugged out of his seat belt and leaned forward to rest his chin on the seat in front of him. In the rear-view mirror, his reflection perched between the heads of his parents as if he also sat in the front seat. Rupert didn’t want to look at himself. The sadness in his own eyes bothered him. Sliding closer to his mother, he looked out her side of the windshield.
Mama was singing along with Lady Gaga and Ariana Grande. “Rain On Me” was one of her favorite songs and it played often on the HITS! station. One of many stations programmed into the state-of-the-art satellite system Pops had the mechanic install in the car before the move. That way they had music all the way across from southern Iowa to the chilly mountain region of northern Nevada.
Up ahead, he could see the old farmhouse with its steeply pitched roof and the funny weathervane perched at the peak. Instead of a horse or a rooster like he’d seen on most weathervanes, this one had an iron image of an old car with a long front and a checkered shield with a swan resting on the crest. The car sat atop an arrow that spun in the chilly breeze; first one way and then the other, before pointing back to the east, the direction they had come from, as if to say, “Go home! You are not welcome here!” Already Rupert missed the rolling green hills, tall leafy trees, and the sound of the Mississippi River – sometimes gurgling, other times roaring – as it ran along behind the house he’d grown up in. The only home he’d ever known.
“Hey, lookit that, Rupe,” his father said from the driver’s seat. “See that ole car shape on the weathervane? That there is a Packard. The Realtor told me the old man that owned this farm had quite a collection.”
“Of weathervanes?” Rupert asked, confused as to why anyone would want more than one.
“No, son,” Pops laughed. “The real cars. They were quite popular from the late 1800s til about 1950 or so. Story goes that while other farmers around here were buyin’ up horses, old man Callohan was collecting broken down Packards in need of fixin’.”
“Just Packards, Josh?” Rupe’s mother asked.
“So they say.”
“How odd.”
Mary smoothed the front of her dress. She still looked city-fine in her cashmere sweater dress and Louis Vuitton heels. To Rupert, it seemed out of place. Out here, miles from a town of any kind, surrounded by old broken down wooden fences and alfalfa fields overgrown with weeds and edged with sagebrush, her dress seemed to emphasize the gap between the life they’d left behind and the life they were stepping into. A life of dirt and dust. It puffed out from beneath the car tires and rose, powder fine, into the air around them. Some landed on the windshield, sliding down to settle thickly along the wipers. His mama laughed pointing at the pile of fine silt.
“I’ve never seen dirt fall like snow before,” she said.
His father joined in, but Rupert didn’t. Dirt falling like snow wasn’t funny to him. Already it was making its way through the seals of the car doors, leaving a thin layer on the seats as well as on Rupert himself. Frowning, he swiped at the film on his arms.
“Now, Rupe,” his father said, catching his son’s eye in the rear-view mirror. “You’ll see. You’ll like it here just fine.”
“There’s nothing to do here, Pops,” Rupert grumbled.
“You don’t know that,” Pops said. “You haven’t even looked the place over.”
The big car glided to a stop in front of the house. Leaving room for the movers to unload, Pops angled the car next to one of only three trees Rupert could see, set the car to park, and stepped out.
A second, smaller moving van pulled up beside the first. Three burly men climbed from the cab. Pops hailed them with a wave. They all gathered at the front porch, smiling and chatting. Rupe could see Pops giving instructions, a smile on his face as he spoke. The big men listened then pulled a long ramp from the back of the truck, unhooked the cargo door, and rolled it up exposing rows of boxes in one truck, and expertly stacked furniture in the other.
Rupert watched the exchange from the backseat of the car, elbows propped up on the seat in front of him, his head resting in his hands. Already he felt exhausted. It had taken days to box up everything in the house. Carefully, he had helped Mama label every box with the contents and which room it belonged in. Now, they had to do it all in reverse; unpack each box and put every item in its place. Rupert was ready to be done with all of it. He gave a low, drawn out sigh.
Mama favored him with a smile and patted his elbow.
“Come now, Rupe. It’s not as bad as all that,” she said. “The rest of the family will catch up in a few days to help with the unpacking.”
Pops returned to help Mama from the car then pulled open the rear passenger door for Rupert who scooted out to stand next to them. A cold breeze ruffled Rupe’s hair. It combed its way through the tree branches to rattle loose a handful of dry, dead leaves before stirring up dust and taking it out into the fields. Rupert shivered. He could see a long way in any direction and what he saw was more fields, sagebrush, and fences. There had to be people out there somewhere, but from here he saw no sign of them. From here, the world seemed so big. Here they were, out in the middle of nowhere. Alone. For a moment, Rupert felt very small and very afraid.
As if feeling his son’s fear, Pops placed a large warm hand on the boy’s shoulder. He gave the boy a squeeze.
“No worries, Rupe,” he said with a smile. “We’re safer here than we ever were in the city. It just takes a little gettin’ use to.”
Rupert swallowed hard and nodded his head. He wanted to believe it was the truth. In the city, everyone had treated Pops with respect. Rupert had never seen anyone challenge his father. Pops was well over six feet tall, broad shouldered, and strong. Pops had once picked up Rupert and his three younger siblings and carried them across the playground to the car while the twins giggled and squealed and Mama ran along beside them begging him not to drop anyone. Pops didn’t, of course. The memory made Rupe feel a little better. His father was strong, he could protect his family.
“Go grab a box, Rupe,” his father instructed. “Go on in the house, Mary, I’ll bring in the luggage.”
Mary gave her husband a kiss then made her way along the stone path and up the wooden steps to the house. Rupert zigzagged his way through the movers. The ramp bounced beneath his feet as he climbed into the back of the truck. It was hot inside, despite the cool autumn temperature. Rupert was tempted to remove his coat, but he knew once he left the truck it would be cold again, so he settled for unzipping it halfway.
The movers had already removed the first row of boxes. Rupert paced along the empty edge surveying the mountain of cardboard, trying to determine which box to take and how to reach it. Footsteps thundered up the ramp behind him, the sound coming so suddenly in the quiet that he nearly jumped out of his skin.
“Hey, little man,” a big burly mover said, stepping up beside him bringing with him the smell of sweat and cigarettes. The man scratched at the wiry red hair that covered his chin. “You be careful up here. You could fall and hurt yourself. Or worse, the whole caboodle could fall on you.”
“M-my dad said for me to grab a box.” Rupert hated it when he stuttered. It didn’t happen often, but in awkward or scary situations his words seemed to get stuck.
“Okay, kid, let’s see what we can find for you.” The man looked him up and down; Rupert shuffled his feet under the scrutiny. “You think you can carry this one?”
The mover fished a box from the top of the pile. Written on the side in neat block letters was: KITCHEN. He bounced it in his hands as if weighing it before handing it to Rupert.
Rupert snatched it from the man’s hands, holding it close to his chest as he scurried away. Halfway down the ramp he stopped to call over his shoulder, “Thanks, mister.” Then he was off again bounding his way across the porch and into the house.
Mama was already in the kitchen, sliding boxes into organized piles, her high heels clicking on the linoleum floor as she walked about. She was humming to herself, a smile on her face, as she sorted the boxes.
“Hey, sweet boy,” she said when she saw him. “You can put that right here on top of this pile.”
Rupert followed her instructions.
“This will be good for us, Rupe,” Mama said, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him close. Rupert slid his arms around her waist and hugged her back. “It’s just you, me, and Pops for three whole days. Think of all the fun we’ll have.”
Rupert nodded into her side. When he’d first offered to go along with his parents instead of staying with his grandparents and Aunt Gloria, it’d seemed exciting. For once, he’d get to be an only child, have all the attention to himself, and get to be the chosen one instead of the invisible one lost between his eldest brother and the twins with his two year old brother demanding even more attention than the others. This was his time to shine. Or so he’d dreamed. Instead, he felt nervous – almost frightened without his siblings to hide behind. Being the center of attention wasn’t all he’d thought it would be. On top of that, he was the only chore horse. It seemed he’d spent more time working than playing this week. He was feeling ready to be invisible again.
“Now trot on upstairs and pick out a room,” Mama said ruffling his hair. “Your father will be in with our suitcases any minute now. He’ll need to know where to put them.
“Really, Mama? Any room I want?”
“Well, not the Master, of course, but any other.”
“Gee, thanks!” Rupert slid away from her and raced for the stairs.
The empty rooms echoed as he trotted through them. The emptiness amplified the sounds: Mama humming in the kitchen, the slam of the screen door as people went in and out, the heavy footsteps of the movers as they brought in boxes and furniture. The jocularity of their voices carried through the house bringing with it a sense of excitement. Rupert almost smiled as he climbed the stairs, the sound of laughter mingling with the tapping of his shoes on the wooden steps.
The staircase wound its way up to the second floor, the space tight enough he could almost touch both walls as he climbed. It was also dimly lit. Only a single bulb hung from the ceiling to light the way.
At the top, he went to the right. Opening the door to every room, he wandered through each, taking in the size and shape of the room, how close it was to his parents’ room, the bathroom, and the stairs, as well as the view from the windows. When he had looked at all of them, he made his choice.
The room was slightly smaller than the others, but it was comfortably sandwiched between the largest of the spare rooms and his parents room. A small bathroom took up space between his room and theirs so he wouldn’t hear everything his parents said or did, but it felt safe, this room.
From the window, he could look out across the open fields. The weeds had grown tall, some as high as the tops of the fences, and they waved merrily in the autumn breeze. Rupert could see bumps and dips in the scenery where things were hidden in the vegetation. What kind of things would be out there, he wondered. More fences? Old buildings? He was still contemplating when Pops came into the room.
“Hey, Sport,” Pops said from the doorway. “The movers are bringing in the beds. Where do you want yours?”
Rupert pointed to the blank wall to the right, next to the closet, without moving away from the window.
“Whatcha lookin’ at, Sport?” Pops asked, moving up beside him, Rupert’s suitcase rolling along behind him.
Rupert pointed out across the fields. His father followed his finger.
“What’s that out there?” Rupert asked.
“Well, I dunno,” Pops answered, leaning closer to the window. “Looks like it could be a vehicle of some kind. Or a piece of farm equipment. A plow or maybe” – he made a raking motion with his hand – “a rake thing. I’m not sure. I’ll tell you what, once the vans are unloaded, you and me will go out there and take a look. How’s that sound?”
“Okay.” Rupert nodded.
“In the meantime, get changed into some grubbies so you don’t ruin your good clothes.”
“Yes, sir,” Rupert answered, stepping away from the window. Pops ruffled his son’s hair and left the room. Rupert could hear his footsteps echo along the hall and down the stairs. With a sigh, he opened his suitcase and rummaged through his things to find his play clothes: a pair of old frayed jeans and a holey t-shirt.
Quickly, he stepped into the jeans with the paint stains on the legs, grass stains on the knees, and a grape juice stain at the waist. Careful not to catch his fingers in the holes along the hem, he pulled on the t-shirt. He didn’t want the movers to catch him half dressed, that would be too embarrassing to live through. Already he could hear them clomping up the stairs, calling instructions to each other as they traversed the curve, the mattress thumping first against the wall then up the last four stairs.
Rupert gave a brief thought to zipping up the suitcase and storing it in the closet. Instead, he used his foot to push it into the corner out of the way.
“Hey, kid.” One of the movers, this one tall and thin, stood in the doorway with his hands in the pockets of his coveralls. Rupert watched him with anxious eyes. “Where you want this bed?”
Rupert pointed at the wall on the other side of the room. The mover gave a nod and stepped out of the way to let the others maneuver the bed frame, box springs and mattress into the room. Rupert didn’t wait around to watch. Strangers made him nervous, especially lots of strangers invading his small space, so he pushed passed the tall man and ran down the hall. Behind him, the movers laughed and joked. The sound followed him down the hallway.
His parents were talking together somewhere below, their voices echoing in the near empty house. Following the sound of Mama’s laughter, he thumped down the stairs, rounded the corner of the kitchen, and ran smack into the back of Pops.
“Slow down there, Rupe,” Pops said, smiling down at his son. “There’s no fire here.”
“Sorry, Pops.” Rupert hung his head. “Can I help you down here?”
“Of course, sweet boy,” Mama said, holding out her hand. “Come with me, I’ll get you started in the pantry.”
Mama gave him a bucket of sudsy water and a sponge, instructing him to wash down all the shelves. All that he could reach, anyway. The top two were too high for him to reach without a stool. Mama promised to get those as soon as she’d changed into her grubby clothes. The heels of her shoes tapped along the linoleum then across the hardwood floor as she headed for the stairs.
Rupert sunk his arms up to the elbows in the warm water, squeezing and releasing the sponge three times before pulling it from the bucket, sloshing water onto the shelf, the floor, and himself as he did so. He didn’t worry about the mess, instead he went straight to work scrubbing. This was a big job. Mama always said big jobs were meant to be messy.
He’d just finished scrubbing the first shelf from end to end, when Mama returned. Dressed in old jeans, sneakers, and one of Pops’ button down shirts, the sleeves rolled up above her elbows, she carried in a step-stool and cleaning rags of her own, and went straight to work. Rupert scrubbed along with her, a determined look on his face.
By the time the movers had unloaded the last box, the last piece of furniture, and placed them where Pops directed, Mama and Rupert had scrubbed the pantry from top to bottom, mopped the floor, and emptied out all the boxes marked PANTRY. Cans and boxed foods filled the shelves as did the extra kitchen appliances that Mama didn’t like to have on the kitchen counters. They both stepped back and took a good look at their work. Mama smiled and ruffled Rupert’s hair.
“We did good,” Rupert said proudly.
“Yes, we did,” Mama affirmed, giving Rupert a high five. “We surely did.”
Together they returned to the kitchen to survey what needed to be done before supper could be served. Mama heaved a heavy sigh before speaking.
“Well, sweet boy,” she said, leaning back against the sink. “I’d say we have our work cut out for us in here. Let’s start here and make our way around to the stove.”
Mama hauled the bucket out the back door and emptied it over the side of the porch onto the small flower patch choked with weeds. Humming happily, she returned it to the sink and refilled it with warm sudsy water.
“Okay, Rupe,” she said, pulling the stool up to the counter. “You know we don’t climb around on the counters.” She waited for him to nod agreement before continuing. “Today, because I need you to help me clean, I’m putting you on the counter.” Mama patted the spot then held out her hand.
Rupert swallowed hard. Holding tight to Mama’s fingers, he climbed the two steps of the stool, balancing on the platform for a moment before using his knee to climb up next to the sink.
“Good. Now be very careful up there, I don’t want you falling off. Make sure you know where the stool is before stepping down, okay?”
“Okay, Mama.” Rupert smiled to himself. This was a rare privilege; he was proud Mama had such faith in him.
Mama set the bucket next to him on the counter and handed him a sponge. Together they made short work of scrubbing out the top cupboards, drying the shelves, and prepping them to hold the dishes. Mama had rolls of spongy mesh stuff she cut to fit the shelves, Rupert took the pieces and fit them snugly on the shelf. While he did this, Mama placed boxes of dishes next to him to unload into the cupboards. Carefully, he unpacked each one, placing the items on the mesh.
Finished at last, Mama helped him down.
“How about you break down these boxes while I make some sandwiches for dinner?” Mama placed the boxes on the floor just outside the kitchen doorway.
“Yes, ma’am.” Rupert sat down on the floor. Using his fingernail, he peeled the tape from the bottom so he could lay the box flat. He’d almost finished when Pops knelt down next to him.
“You ready for our walk?” Pops asked.
“Yes!” Rupert cried excitedly, flattening the last box.
“Hold your horses,” Mama said from the doorway. “Help your father take those boxes out to the garage then come in and wash up for dinner. It’ll be ready by then.”
“Okay,” Rupert said, his shoulders slumped. The thought of exploring the grounds with Pops had him itching to go.
Pops helped him gather up the boxes, awkward for the young boy to carry on his own, and together they took them out the back door and across the yard to the garage. To Rupert, it looked nothing like a garage. The ugly eye-sore of a building was made from railroad ties, with two heavy barn style doors in the front that cinched closed with a piece of rebar through a metal pipe. Rupert kept hold of the boxes while his father worked the rebar handle free of the pipe and the two doors swung free.
Inside, the building smelled of old oil and dirt. There were holes in the ceiling that let the sunlight in and bird nests in the rafters. It was a sort of cool building to the young boy but was unlike anything he’d ever seen before.
“Huh,” said Pops, eyeballing the holey roof. “Looks like this’ll need some work before we can keep the car in here.”
Rupert nodded.
“Here, son, let’s put these here boxes under this work bench so they stay dry. No sense leaving them out to be ruined.”
Again, Rupert nodded. Half dragging, half carrying his share of the cardboard, he placed them at his father’s feet. Pops, wrestled them under the bench and back against the wall. Together they managed to get the doors back together and cinched shut before trotting back to the house to wash up.
Mama was placing bowls of vegetable soup on the table when Rupert scooted onto his seat. Pops joined them as Mama set down the ham sandwiches.
“How about a blessing, Joshua?” Mama prompted, folding her hands and bowing her head. Rupert followed her example while Pops offered up a blessing over the food.
It was hard for Rupert to sit still while he ate. When he wasn’t bouncing on his chair, he found himself jiggling his legs in anticipation, much to Mama’s dismay. He couldn’t help it! He was ready to be out in the sunshine checking out the barn and the fields and that strange lump out beyond the fence line.
“Can we go now, Mama?” Rupert begged, dinner over. Bouncing on the balls of his feet, he raised clasped hands to his chin. “Please, please, please?”
“Are your dishes in the sink?”
“Yes, ma’am!”
“Okay, sweet boy,” Mama smiled at him. “You and Pops deserve a break.” She reached up and planted a kiss on her husband’s mouth. “You boys go have some fun.”
“Yippee!” Rupert cried. “Do you want to come, too, Mama?”
“I think I’ll stay here and finish up the kitchen,” Mama said. “If you don’t mind.”
“Okay, Mama, but you’ll miss all the fun.”
“Thank you, sweet boy, for the offer.” She gave her husband one more kiss then sent them out the door. Humming quietly to herself, she returned to her work.
Pops and Rupe headed straight out the back towards the lump they had seen from the bedroom window. Curiosity was eating away at Rupert the way a dog would eat away at a bone, gnawing at it with sharp teeth until the hard casing gave way to the soft marrow.
Pops traipsed a step ahead, tromping down the tall weeds as they went, cutting a trail through the overgrown field, making sure there weren’t any snakes hidden in the tall vegetation. When they reached the fence, Pops showed Rupe how to check the ends of the wood rails. It was important to be sure they weren’t split and still felt tight in the post grooves before climbing over. If the ends slipped out, it was a ways to the ground below. When he was sure Rupert could climb the fence safely, he climbed over first, offering Rupert encouragement and advice as the boy navigated the fence.
Rupert was proud of himself when his shoes touched the ground on the opposite side. Pops gave him a smile and ruffled his hair. Rupert ducked his head. It was good to have Pops proud of him, but a little embarrassing, too.
They made their way to the outer field, weaving around broken fence posts, foot high ant hills, and long-lost items trapped in the silty ground, hidden among the weeds. The shape became more defined the closer they got to it. It hunched before them like a lioness stalking her prey through the tall savannah grasses. Rupert shivered.
“Well, looky here, Rupe,” Pops said, his voice giving away his excitement. “It’s an old car. I’ll wager it’s one of ole Callohan’s Packards.” Pops stomped down the bushes and grasses, and even tromped on the sage bush to get a good look at the automobile. Then, “Huh.”
“What, Pops,” Rupert asked, tilting his head the same way as his father’s, trying to see what he saw.
“Not a Packard. The shape is wrong.” Pops pointed to the hood of the car. “You see that emblem there?” He didn’t wait for Rupert to answer. “That’s a Pontiac. Thirties somewhere abouts. I wonder what it’s doing out here rusting away.”
Rupert shrugged though he knew his father wasn’t expecting an answer. Following along behind Pops, they circled the car, taking in the rusted out doors, broken trunk latch, and broken grill.
“Is it one of Callohan’s, Pops?”
“I don’t know, Rupe. All’s I heard about were the Packards.”
Pops stood back surveying the old car, a strange smile on his face.
“It is a beautiful machine, just the same. But,” he turned serious as he looked down at his son, “you need to stay away from here, Rupe.”
“But, Pops,” Rupert began.
“No, Rupe. This car has been sitting here rusting for decades. It could be chock full of black widows or rattlesnakes… It’s a very dangerous place to play. You stay away, you hear?”
“Yes, Pops,” Rupert said, a dejected tone to his voice. He kicked a dirt clod, sending it against one flat tire of the car. It bust open in a spray of dust. It didn’t make him feel any better. There were few places for him to play as it was, now the coolest place he’d found was off limits.
“I mean it, Rupe.”
“I know, Pops.” A sigh escaped with the words.
Pops placed a large warm hand on his son’s shoulder. “Come on, son. Let’s go explore the barn.”
The barn wasn’t in much better shape than the old car was. Certainly not ready to have a young boy run amok through the stalls and lofts or swinging from the rafters, though a tire swing hung temptingly in the middle of the building. Pops looked it over, declaring it frayed and off limits until further notice. Begrudgingly, Rupert agreed.
“Not to worry,” Pops said. “Once the house is settled, we’ll fix this up first. By the time the snow flies, you and your siblings will have a place to play out of the weather. Come summer, we’ll be able to put in a swing set and maybe even a trampoline. Sound good?”
“Yeah, Pops! Thanks.”
Pops ruffled his son’s hair and smiled.
They returned to the house to find the kitchen cleaned and every box unpacked, the empties stacked flat in the corner. Supper was simmering on the stove and Mama was kneading a large mass of bread dough.
“Well, there you are! I was starting to think I’d need to send out Search and Rescue to find you and bring you back,” she complained, but the twist of her lips belied her good humor.
“Sorry, honey.” Pops planted a kiss on the top of her head. “There’s a lot of acreage out there. We needed to do some serious exploring. Right, Rupe?”
“Yep!” Rupert climbed up on a stool, tucking his knees under him. “Guess what we found?”
“Um… a treasure map?” Mama guessed.
“Nope.”
“A broken down old tractor?”
“Nope!” Rupert said, bouncing on his knees. “But, closer.”
“Closer, hm. A brand new tractor?”
“No,” Rupert laughed. “Better! There’s a tire swing hanging in the barn and an old car out in the field! Cool, right?”
“Joshua?” Mama’s voice held concern.
“Not to worry, Mary,” Pops said, rubbing her back. “Rupe knows not to play on the swing until we’ve checked out all the beams and given the okay. And the car, Rupert?”
“Stay away from the car because it could be full of black widows or rattlesnakes,” Rupe said.
“That’s my boy!”
“Okay,” Mama said slowly. “But you listen to your father.”
“Yes, Mama.”
“So, when’s supper?” Pops rubbed his palms together.
“Not for at least an hour yet.” Mama formed the dough into a big ball and plopped it into a greased glass bowl. Carefully she stretched a sheet of plastic wrap over the bowl and slid it into the proofing drawer. “You two boys could go work on unpacking the living room. You’ll need to wash down the shelves and clean the floor first.” Pops groaned. “Then, maybe after supper, we can all watch a movie together or something.”
“Really?” Rupert hopped off the stool. “Can we watch the Disney Channel?”
“Sorry, Rupe,” Pops said. “It’ll be a week or more before we’ll get anyone out here to set the satellite.”
“No T.V?” Rupe looked incredulous. “What about Netflix?”
“That either. Just our old DVDs.”
“That sucks!”
“It’s just for a couple days,” Mama said. “I’m sure we’ll survive.”
Rupert frowned. Days. Surely he’d die of boredom long before then. It was still churning in his mind as he followed Pops into the living room. If he’d known how much scrubbing and cleaning he’d be doing, he would have stayed with Grandma and Grandpa, too.
Pops broke out the CD player first, along with the CDs. Soon the sounds of Queen reverberated through the room. By the third song, Rupert was smiling. Nothing could lift his sullen mood faster than good music. Soon, he was singing along while he scrubbed. He could even hear Mama’s voice drifting in from the kitchen as she sang along, too.
Rupert clawed his way to consciousness. The dream had turned frightening, sending his heart galloping in his chest, his pulse pounding in his ears. He struggled to wake up, a cry on his lips. Eyes wide, he looked around him unsure if he were really awake or still dreaming. He was standing in front of a window. Through it, he could see the moon hanging low outside. Looking about him, he found an unfamiliar room. Fear was rising in his belly when his eyes lit upon the familiar shape of his bed cast in the meager light filtering in from the hallway. He swallowed hard, feeling somewhat relieved. With a creak of the hinges, his bedroom door slid slowly open, revealing someone standing there watching him, the features hidden in shadow. Rupert’s breath caught in his throat, his body shaking with fear. For a moment, he was sure it was him, the horrible half-faced man from his dream. The man with the burning eyes who had chased him from room-to-room, demanding possession of Rupert’s small body.
“Rupe? Are you okay, son?”
It was his father’s voice. Rupert let out the breath he’d been holding. It came out as a strangled cry. Pops was beside him in an instant, kneeling before his son, his hands on the boy’s shoulders, the warmth of them brought Rupert back to himself.
“Rupe, what’s the matter?” Pops’ voice was filled with concern.
Rupert couldn’t answer. The dream had been too real, too frightening. He wrapped his arms around his father’s neck and sobbed into his chest. Pops stayed quiet, patting the boy’s back, waiting for the tears to stop. At last they died away, leaving Rupert shaking more from the cold than from emotion. Swiping at his tears, he stepped away from his father.
“Are you okay now, son?” Pops asked.
Rupert nodded.
“You sure?”
Rupert nodded again.
Pops helped him to bed, tucking the blankets around the boy’s body. The bed springs groaned as Pops lowered himself to sit on the edge of the mattress.
“You want to talk about it?” Gently, he soothed the boy’s brow as he talked.
Rupert thought for a moment then shook his head. Rolling onto his side, he snuggled into the covers and closed his eyes. “Okay.” Pops pushed himself up from the bed. “You want me to leave the light on?”
“It won’t help,” the boy whispered. He’d drifted back into sleep before Pops reached the door.
Joshua paused to watch his son sleep, puzzled. Maybe it was being in a new place that had set the boy off. Rupert hadn’t woken them with his nightmares in years. He’d certainly never screamed like that before. Nor had he walked in his sleep. From the doorway, Joshua could see out the window into the dark night. A sliver of a moon hung low in the night sky; stars twinkled all around it. Though he stood watching for several minutes, he saw nothing out of the ordinary beyond Rupert’s window.
Just the stress of the move, he thought to himself. With slow deliberation, he eased the door shut and went back to bed.