Chapter 13 - The Half Turn I Promised Not to Finish
The key was smaller than I thought it would be. Not like a house key. Short and thick and brass-colored, with a dark spot on one side where somebody's thumb had rubbed it for years.
Mr. Daniel held it up between his fingers so I could see. Noah was breathing against my neck, slow and warm now. The vacuum sat quiet on the rug behind us with the hose curled like a sleeping snake.
"This part of the bookcase," he said, "it was here before I bought the house. The man who owned it before me built a safe room back there. For storms. For papers."
I looked at the seam. It went straight up between two boards, thinner than my pinky nail.
"Like a closet?" I whispered.
"Like a closet with a lock," he said. "Nobody's opened it in a long time. That's why I didn't want you near it."
He knelt down slow, his knees popping a little on the rug. He did not look at me when he moved toward the seam. He looked at the key, then at the little hole I had found under the dust. It was almost hidden in the wood groove.
My hands felt sweaty on my cleaning cloth. I wiped them on my dress.
He slid the key in. Just the tip. Metal made a tiny click sound against metal. My stomach jumped.
"Wait," he said, more to himself than to me. He stopped with the key only halfway in. His shoulders went tight.
I held my breath. Noah shifted and made a soft sound in his sleep.
Mr. Daniel did not turn it. He kept his fingers on the key and just stayed there, kneeling. The lamp light caught the sweat on the side of his face.
"What's wrong?" I asked. My voice sounded too loud.
He let out air through his nose. "If it's wired, turning this could set off an old alarm. Or if the air's bad in there. Mold. You and Noah can't breathe that."
I thought about mold. At the apartment, the bathroom wall had black spots that smelled sour. Mom said don't touch. I nodded fast because I knew what he meant.
"So we don't open it?" I asked.
"Not like this," he said. "Not at night with you holding him and no air moving."
My cloth was still in my hand, damp from where I had wiped the baseboard. I held it out.
"I can cover it," I said. "So no dust gets out or in. Like a Band-Aid."
He looked at the cloth for a second. Then his mouth moved a little, not quite a smile. He took it careful, like it was something breakable, and folded it once.
"Okay," he said. He tucked the folded cloth around the key where it stuck out, pressing it soft against the seam. "That helps."
The cloth hung there white against the dark wood. The key poked out under it, halfway in, stopped.
He sat back on his heels. The suit pants pulled tight at his knees. He looked tired.
"Mia," he said, "can we make a deal? We don't turn it any more tonight. We wait till morning. Daylight. When Mrs. Eller, the housekeeper, is gone for the store. Just you and me and Noah. Safer that way."
I stared at the key. Part of me wanted him to just turn it and get it over with. My fingers itched to reach out. But Noah's weight was on my back, and the blue shawl was warm around my shoulders, and I could feel his little heart beating.
"Promise?" Mr. Daniel asked. He held out his pinky.
Nobody had asked me to pinky promise in a long time. I hooked my pinky around his. His finger was big and rough.
"I promise," I whispered. "Only in daylight. Only when she's gone."
"And I promise I won't open it without you here," he said. "You found it. You get to be here."
We stayed like that a moment, pinkies locked, kneeling by the bookcase. The rain tapped the windows. The moon made a blue square on the rug next to the vacuum wheels.
"Should I take the key out?" he asked, quiet.
I shook my head. "If you take it out we might lose the spot. Leave it sleeping."
"Leave it sleeping," he repeated. He let go of my pinky and stood up slow. He brushed dust off his knees. "All right. We leave it sleeping till morning."
I picked up the edge of the shawl and checked Noah's cheek. Still pale pink. Still breathing. I pulled the shawl a little tighter.
May you like
Mr. Daniel looked at the cloth covering the seam one more time, then at me.
"Come on," he said, and held out his hand. "Let's get you two out of this cold room for tonight."
