Finding Kyle(9)

I unlock the deadbolt and pull the door open, leaning out slightly to look left and right.

No one.

As I start to shut the door, I notice something on the stoop.

A basket, covered with a red-and-white checked linen cloth.

Bending over, I pick it up and flip the cloth back. Inside is a plastic-wrap covered plate filled with what looks like pot roast, potatoes, and carrots, with another smaller plate beside it with what looks like chocolate cake.

I turn my head to look at Jane’s house and can just make out her form moving across her darkened front yard.

With a sigh, I back into my house. Taking the basket with me, of course. I’m not about to pass up a home-cooked meal, though I can only hope she cooks better than she bakes.





CHAPTER 4




Jane


My alarm clock goes off, and I come out of a dead sleep. Reaching out, I slap at the “off” button, managing to silence the alarm on my first try. I’m not one who makes repetitive use of the “snooze” button, and that’s mainly because I’ve always been a morning person. I’ve also got a very structured routine during the school year that lets me wake up, have a cup of coffee, shower, dry my hair and put on makeup, and get dressed—all in under an hour. The middle, junior high, and high school all sit on the same piece of property on the outskirts of town, so it’s a fifteen-minute drive. I eat my breakfast—usually a toaster pastry—along the way.

I roll to my side and sit up on the side of the bed, arching my back and letting out a huge yawn. The sun looks bright outside my blinds, and I can almost taste the summer that’s just around the bend. This is the last week of school, and I’m actually giddy over having the next few months off.

I’m in mid-stretch/yawn when I hear a weird clanking sound from somewhere in the house. This doesn’t necessarily alarm me because this little house was built in the forties. There are usually clanks and groans from some pipe or vent that occur periodically. I’m renting the house for now because it has an amazing view of the lighthouse and the Atlantic Ocean, and I don’t want to buy unless I can find something equally as charming. And there’s always the possibility my landlord would sell to me at some point, but, for now, I’m content to just rent.

I pop up off the bed and ignore my robe, which is laid across the end of the bed. Even though it’s the first week of June, the temperatures still dip low. I always turn the furnace on so I’m comfortable at night. After my shower, I’ll shut it off, preferring to open my windows to the nice ocean breeze that will keep the place sufficiently cooled during the day. An air conditioner just isn’t needed in these parts.

As I exit my bedroom, I hear the clanking sound again and turn left out of the hallway as it’s clearly coming from the front of the house. With my head tilted to the side, I listen as I step into the kitchen, and there it is… I hear it again. A clanking sound that lasts for just a few seconds before it goes silent again.

I look toward the kitchen sink and wait.

And there it is again.

Except this time, the clanking doesn’t stop. I watch in dazed amazement as the kitchen faucet actually starts to shake. The clanking gets louder, and I take a tentative step toward the sound. The faucet rattles in place, almost to the same beat of the clanking, and I hear a hissing noise. I take two more steps that put me right in front of the sink, and I reach out a hand to touch the spout. Before I can even make contact, the hissing noise stops, the clanking falls silent, and everything goes still. I let out a sigh of relief followed by a nervous little laugh, but it’s cut short when a loud noise that sounds like metal being sheared pierces the quiet. A geyser of water shoots upward from where the faucet sits, blowing the damn thing clear off its mounting.

I let out a shriek of surprise as the faucet falls into the sink with a clatter. My hands go out automatically to try to stem the fountain of water that’s spraying up so high that it’s hitting the ceiling. I’m so discombobulated that my sink just exploded I can’t think what to do, so I push my hands down onto the geyser of water like I’ll miraculously manage to put it all back where it belongs. This only serves to shoot the water out at various angles, including straight at my face and chest. Within moments, I’m completely soaked.

Perhaps it’s the icy water hitting my face, or maybe it’s even the fact that I’m a naturally bright person with good reflexes, but it hits me all of a sudden that I’ve got a burst pipe and I need to shut off the water.

I immediately drop to my knees as water continues to shoot upward before raining down on my back as I pull open the cupboard doors below the sink and start pulling out the barrage of cleaning supplies I’ve got under there, frantically trying to clear a path to the shut-off valve. As I pull away a half-empty bottle of Lysol that I throw over my shoulder, my eyes go to the pipes and the shut-off valve that… is fucking missing the actual knob to turn it. All I can see is the end of a bolt-looking thing. I quickly process I’m not turning off the water this way.

But again, I’m a quick thinker. With a muttered curse, I surge upward, only to slip and slide my way across the wet linoleum as water continues to spew out of my sink. I turn into the hallway, using my hand on the casing around the kitchen door to keep my balance, and sprint to the back door. I burst through it, turning to my immediate left to a door that leads into an outside utility room. I open the door and immediately look to the red handle of the shut-off valve for the entire house. It’s up high, but I also have an eight-foot ladder leaned against the far wall. I grab it, pull the legs open, and scramble up it. Grabbing onto the red handle, I pull downward with an expectant surge of relief that I’ve found a way to solve this problem in what was really only a few seconds. Less than a minute definitely.