The Home

"Aaron. I can't. I can't put him away somewhere."

"Ma! Ma, listen to me. It won't be like that. I promise it won't. You can be with him every day if you want. He'll just have people around him who can bathe and dress him. His meals will be seen to... I've sent for tons of information. For brochures. It's an answer. To be honest, it won't be all that different for him. But it will be a big help for you. Really, Ma... I'm thinking of both of you."

Miriam fought an amazing battle for the next three years. She saw to Dave's every need. Finally, at eighty-two, she conceded. Her body was becoming frail, and Dave, a year older than his sister, was still a very large, very stubborn man. One who spoke little, and stared with a fleeting vacancy at the television screen.

The call came in just before his birthday. Somewhere around nine in the morning. At ten o'clock that night, he got up from the chair and painfully walked towards his room. His arthritis was hitting hard. His head began throbbing right after the call. They were coming for him at the beginning of the week. They had a place for him. Someone probably died, he thought. He was surprised to feel the tears welling up. He wouldn't be able to take Pa's old desk. The one with the secret drawers where he and Pa hid special aggies. He looked at the small, roll-top desk sadly, remembering, and closed the bedroom door behind him. Miriam didn't need to see him cry. Not her older brother. The room began to spin. He sat on the bed.

It was then that it looked like snow was falling inside the room, swirling in little circles like it did outside when the wind pushed the first soft flakes around. He felt so cold. A coldness that set in whenever he felt trapped. He couldn't remember when he'd felt frightened like this. Not because of the snow. That part was good. It meant he'd see the Gypsy Man again. It was more that they'd be taking him away to a strange place. A place with unfamiliar faces. No one would ever find him again!

"Everything by Nature's plan, Davie. Everything. Now you must hold the reins tight. Show the world! Here is a person of great strength and courage."

Zohar filled the room. His beads and his clothes more vibrant than ever. "Nature is a jokester, yes? We plan. We plan, Davie. But Nature, she has other plans. Just hold the reins, Davie. Hold the reins!"...

And he was gone. The little flakes of snow swirling away around him and disappearing into the night. Miriam knocked lightly on his door.

"Dave! Can I come in?

"Sure."

"I won't let them take you, if you really don't want to go."

With more words than he'd spoken for a long time, and an awareness he hadn't shown in months, he answered her in overwhelming sadness.

"No, Mir. It's better this way... I think I'll sleep in my bed tonight. I'm too tired to sit out there.

"Miriam? You know that old picture of me on the pony? Would you find it for me and pack it in the suitcase? I think it's in Pa's desk... And, Mir! See if you can find one of Ma and Pa... We had such a big family, didn't we, Mir? Where did they all go? We always had a good time together. All of us. Looks like we're the oldest of the bunch, now. I wanted to do better for you, Mir. Once you got here."

"Dave. You did the best you could. And besides, I'm not deserting you. I'll be over there every day. You know that, don't you?"

"I know. But it's the dying place, Mir!" It was a frightened whisper.

"That's an old wives' tale. It's no such thing."

She started to close the door so the lights from the other room wouldn't bother him, but she was stopped by his voice filled with a weak, aching hopelessness.

"Wait, Miriam... Leave the door open, please... I want to listen to the house."

******

What's your plan, little one?"

"I'm going to the Gazette. Tell them I'm researching care homes across the country. See what I can pull up on recent deaths at that place. People come from all around that area feeling that the Home's reputation is sterling. I just need to make sure it is, that's all. For me, Danny."

"I hear you... Guess it's just like me to jump in with both feet... I'll go easy. Promise. And I think it's a wise choice to begin at the Whitley Gazette. It's a good paper. I know some of the guys there. Let me pave the way a bit. But you still watch yourself all the same, Tinkerbell. It could get sticky... In the meantime, like I said, I'll feel around up here. See who I can find. If no one fits, don't be surprised if a Mr. Daniel O'Keefe shows up hot on your trail. If somethin's goin' down, Kaylie my girl, you'll need all the help you can get... Let me know when you plan to leave."

Kaylie stood in front of the Whitley Home with her mouth open. She'd never been near it before. Never had a reason. But she knew about it. For her, and for most of the working people in and around Whitley, it was an illusion buried deeply into the forested hills of the town. Now, in front of her, loomed an imposing, unexpected, lonely reality. So isolated in the singular grayness of the land. She pulled into the warmth of the down coat until it hugged her.

It was snowing. Soft, small flakes dancing around in the wind. It wasn't until she realized the frozen particles of ice were trying desperately to rest on her tongue that she closed her mouth and stared. Her legs were shaking. She wasn't prepared for the nameless fear coursing through her. She leaned against the little Mazda for support. All she could think of was De Maurier's overwhelming Manderley caught inside one of those round crystal globes. In its own world. Shake it, and snow blew softly, trapped with the image. No one she'd ever known quite shared her sense of drama. Nor her ability to see the dark side of things...

Sprawling against a desolate horizon was an old, brooding estate that most people in town referred to as The Home. It's exterior was composed of granite in a variety of shapes, hauled from some nearby rock quarry. If you weren't scared out of your wits when you drove the narrow, winding hill towards its entrance, you were probably ready for the locked fourth floor.

My uncle is here, she thought. The man who once was the family's strength, full of bravado, fiercely rebellious and outspoken. A man so secretly sweet. My uncle is here. Somewhere inside this cold, weary place rising out of the trees.

Tall pines and maples stood like fierce guards in all directions. Acres of undeveloped woodland, foreboding but magnificent, surrounded the main four-storied building. Sheds of different shapes and sizes leaned against the side of the imposing structure. Little mounds of earth and snow dipped here and there, and finally disappeared into forever around the back.

In summer, when most of the new residents were admitted, the structure and the grounds that held it were an amazing sight. A classic painting. An ancient medieval castle lit by the glorious colors and hues of the forest. But now, in late November, the painting was brushed into melancholy grays by an unforgiving northeast, cold and f