The Waiting: A Supernatural Thriller(57)

Evan almost told him about everything that had happened, the things he’d seen, or not seen, Becky. But a dam lodged in his throat, blocking it like something physical.

A hair.

“It’s been a challenge, and I think you’re right about slowing down to adjust. We need this, I need this. I’m sorry.”

“Me too. When you started talking about the clock in the basement, I knew you’d be asking questions around town and what happened with my grandparents would come up for sure. That’s why I tried to throw you off.”

“Why didn’t you tell me all this when it happened? I knew you were upset and everything, but I had no idea something like this was going on.”

“We were in the middle of college, man. We were young, and I was scared and ashamed. My dad was already gone, and my mom wasn’t the most supportive. I’m just lucky I had Lisa and Lily to focus on. I didn’t know what to think back then, and I still don’t now. I tried to glaze over it, tried to go on vacations up there with the family after a while, but it wasn’t right anymore. I couldn’t feel good there.”

Something didn’t let you feel good here, my friend.

Evan let the gap in conversation stretch. He didn’t know what else to say. The sense of betrayal had given way to unease, and something else. Even though it sickened him, he recognized it for what it was: intrigue.

“I’m glad you got ahold of Justin. The clock story sounds good, he’ll print it.”

“Thanks. I’m sorry, I really am, Jase. I didn’t mean it—”

“Save it, you sound like a whiny little bitch.”

Evan couldn’t help but laugh. “So I have your blessing to write it.”

“Yeah, make it good. Maybe I’ll put a bug in Justin’s ear about finding a full-time position for you there.”

Evan smiled. “Thanks, Jase. You’re my brother, you know that?”

“Sure do. I only want the best for you guys.”

“I know.”


“Good. Give Shaun a hug for me, and try not to call when I’m taking a shit, okay?”

They both laughed and hung up. Evan sat staring at the wall, through it. The slight glow of knowing his and Jason’s friendship was still strong paled in comparison to the numerous questions that grew from the new knowledge. He stood and made his way to the windows overlooking the dock and the lake beyond. He half expected to see the floating form of a body there. Instead, the water rippled and the pine boughs bent, while the wind chimes tinkled in tones that didn’t sound pretty anymore.

Shaun stirred on the couch, and Evan went to him. Sitting beside him, he stroked his son’s hair as he opened his eyes.

“Hi, honey, good sleep?”

Shaun smiled and yawned, stretching his arms over his head.

“Let’s get you up and do some exercises.”

For the next hour they worked on balancing and range-of-motion routines. The strength in Shaun’s arms surprised him at one point, and he actually lost his grip on his small wrists. This brought about a shocked look on Shaun’s face before he erupted in a series of excited shrieks. Evan clapped his hands over his ears in mock dismay, which only caused him to yell louder.

“You’re getting too strong, son,” he said, once Shaun became calm again. “Can you say ‘strong’?”

“Strog.”

Evan smiled and reached for the iPad to run through some flash cards, but he stopped. Putting his hands on Shaun’s, he looked into his son’s eyes.

“Do you like it here, Shaun? Should we stay?”

“Stay?”

“Yes, do you want to stay? We’ll leave if you say so, right now, buddy. You tell me. Give me a sign.”

He put a palm against the boy’s cheek and waited. Shaun’s eyes roamed across his face for some guidance.

“Stay?” Shaun repeated.

Evan dropped his hand into his own lap and nodded.

“Let’s go down to the lake.”

~

They watched the sun set behind the trees, its burning orange coalescing into a deep red, and then it was a purple bruise hidden behind a wispy crop of clouds. A floatplane roared into view near dark, its flashing wings close enough to see lines of rivets in its aluminum hide. Evan watched Shaun’s face turned toward the whirring prop, and for a moment he imagined that the truck had not slid through the stop sign. He imagined the white line of scar evaporating, leaving smooth, unblemished skin and an undamaged brain beneath it. He watched the wonder in Shaun’s features catching the last light of the day, and when he turned his head to issue an excited yell, Evan almost expected full sentences of questions to come out of his mouth instead.

“You can ask me, buddy,” he said, holding one of Shaun’s hands as the plane touched down on the lake, its skis slinging up jets of water. “How does it fly, Dad? How can it land on the lake?”

Shaun vibrated in his chair, his head turned away as the plane slowed before taxiing toward the right, out of view.

“You can ask,” Evan whispered.





19





That night, after Shaun fell asleep, Evan began working on the clock.

He went downstairs with his laptop, intending to make some notes and begin an outline to send to Justin. Sitting at the worktable, he cleared a spot, moving the diagrams and Bob’s scribbles out of the way. It felt natural to write in the presence of the clock, an inspiration whenever he glanced up from the screen.