“You seem to know a lot of what’s going on there.”
The man shrugged and smiled. “I keep my ears to the ground. One has to in my business.”
“You are saying they knew nothing about the abuse? That is hard to believe.”
“I don’t blame you. They, too, can’t believe they noticed nothing. Yes, in hindsight some things should have caused alarm signals, but they were all too in awe of their elders.”
“Why do they want to buy Wright’s Homestead after all these years?”
“They want to build an outdoor education center where young delinquents learn survival skills, social skills, and self-sufficiency. Many kids could benefit from a program like that. Your homestead is ideal for it. Far enough away from temptations and yet close enough to provide help if needed.”
I’ve seen how much damage Gateway has caused under the cover of educational programs for young people. I trust them as far as I can throw a piano. I have no intention of lending them a hand. The idea of yet another educational program for young people gets my hackles up. I have no intention of lending them a hand. This can’t be the only house suitable for that purpose.
“This can’t be the only house suitable for that purpose. They had thirty years to take over the house.”
Something about this man’s proposal doesn’t sit right with me, but I can’t put my finger on it.
“Amanda Wright, who owned Wright’s Homestead, is the sister of one of the founding community members. She purchased the homestead with a loan from Gateways and the unspoken agreement was that it would one day become part of the Gateway community. Unfortunately, she passed before she could put it in her will.”
“I know the founding members you speak of. They were my parents.”
“Yeah, Uhm, Gateways always believed Wright’s Homestead would become part of their community after the passing of Ms. Wright. They know they don’t have a legal claim to the homestead. But they would like to purchase it. The new board of directors is trying to bring Gateways back to the original vision.”
“I’m sure if she intended to give the homestead to Gateways, she would have specified it in her will. It’s not, so I see no reason for our conversation to continue.”
I get up from my chair to see the agent off.
He gets up too but seems compelled to try one more time to change my mind.
“Don’t you feel spooked being out here all by yourself since Scott Thompson’s hut burned down?”
“Thank you for your concern. I am okay here. Should I consider selling, I’ll contact you. Why don’t you leave your details with me? I’ll be in touch.”
He hands me his card and returns to his car. Only when his Toyota disappears through the trees does the pressure inside my head and nausea in my stomach ease.
I rush back inside the house, stirred up and unsure what to do with myself now. Will I never be free of Gateway?
Chapter Fourteen
Elise: 9 March 2017, Midday, Post Somers, Hospital
I just got off the phone and stare at my shaking hands. Inside my head a firework of voices is going off, laughing, talking, and crying all at the same time.
“It’s a little early but we expect Mr. Thompson to wake up today or tomorrow.”
The doctor sounded tired as if it took a special effort to pick up the phone and let us know that his high-priority patient is as good as back in the world of the living.
“Don’t be so mean. Like other hospitals, Port Somers’ is probably under-staffed and the few nurses and doctors they have are bound to be overworked. We should be grateful that he thought of calling us.”
Sky is right, if I don’t take care I’ll turn into a grumpy old woman. It’s not the doctor’s fault that my head is as noisy as Times Square during peak traffic. After a while the tangle of voices hones in on one loud chorus: We have to see Scottie.
I agree and minutes later, powered by a cup of Ama’s strong coffee and a fair amount of joyful anticipation, we spin along State Highway 6. Just in case Scott wakes up sooner rather than later.
The drive to the hospital is challenging, trying to keep the switching under control. Lilly is dancing and skipping up and down the stairs of the tree house. I wish she would stop and keep the Tribe quiet. It’s hard to keep the car steady with everyone playing up.
By the time we arrive at the hospital, I am exhausted.
“I swear, the thirty-minute drive to Port Somers was at least thirty-five minutes too long,” Lilly said, checking her hair in the rearview mirror. She’s full of beans and ready to shoot out the truck. The young ones have to wait for their turn. While she vibrates with energy, I use my last resources to collect myself and present an adult facade to the hospital staff.
Surrounded by piles of charts and files, the nurse at the reception desk taps away on her computer even though I’m sure she noticed me. It’s funny, at least half the time of my life I was invisible and it didn’t bother me. That has changed. It bothers me now that the nurse ignores me. I pull my shoulders straight and walk past her desk to the ward.
“Hello, where are you going?”
The nurse’s voice is sharp and commanding. I turn around and find her staring at me with a deep frown. I’m in no mood for sharp, commanding, and frown. First the burglary last night—my head is still sore—and then the real estate agent this morning. I’m done with unpleasant for the day.
The woman has seen me every day for the last six days. Not that she has been
