The Lost Door by Marc Buhmann Read Free Book Online Page B

sort through it all.
    Emily’s room was next. There was a slight dirty odor, so she opened the window. The room itself was decent enough, definitely not the best she’d seen of her daughter, but certainly not the worst. There weren’t dishes caked in food or half-filled cups around the room. There were, however, clothes scattered about and a desk covered in papers and books. This wasn’t typical of Emily—she was usually so meticulous with everything in its place—but she was a teenager and teenagers sometimes got lazy. And who was she to judge anyway?
    Claire sorted Emily’s clothes and tided up her desk and changed the sheets on her bed. The vacuum bumped something under the bed. She killed the power and reached under and pulled out an ashtray. Two stamped out cigarette butts were in it.
    Smoking? When did Emily pick up that nasty habit? She was going to have to speak to her about this.
    The nightstand drawer taunted her. If her daughter was smoking what else was she keeping hidden from her?
    No! You’re invading her privacy.
    True, but she was still her mother, and this was her house, and she had a right to know what her daughter was doing. It was her responsibility to protect her.
    Claire opened it. She breathed a sigh of relief, almost laughed, as nothing jumped out at her. She’d half expected to find drugs or drug paraphernalia stashed in here. Cigarettes weren’t good, but there were far worse things Emily could be doing to rebel. Tobacco she could handle.
    She stood and went to the trashcan next to Emily’s desk, picked it up, and dumped the butts into it.
    And her heart stopped.
    She reached in, hand trembling, and lifted out a thin plastic bag. Through it she could see the contents. Hoping, praying, she was wrong she reached in and pulled out the box. A pregnancy test.
    Her mind was a whirlwind, didn’t know what to think. Was Emily pregnant?
    She opened the box but it was empty.
    Breathe, she told herself. Don’t jump to conclusions. Maybe it was her friend’s. Jessica.
    But how could she not? The last thing she wanted was to see Emily making the same mistakes she’d made. If that happened then she had failed as a mother.
    Claire sat there a while, unsure how to react. She was going to have to talk to her about this.
    I need a drink.
    Yes. She could really use one right now.
     
    * * *
     
    Willem shut the front door and locked it. A sunbeam streamed through the partially closed curtains, dust particles visible in the air. A cold beer would be good right about now, but since his estrangement from Elliott he’d sworn off alcohol. Instead he grabbed a cola from the fridge, popped the top and took a long drink, one that produced a hiccup.
    No more delaying it; he opened and dug through a drawer finding a black address book buried under miscellaneous junk. With book and cola in hand he sat at the table. He stared out the window wondering if he was ready for this.
    His hand hesitated over the address book. Assuming Elliott still had the same number would he even talk to him? Maybe not knowing was better.
    To hell with it. He grabbed the book and flipped through it until he found Elliott’s number, picked up the phone and dialed. Might as well get this over with.
    The phone rang three times before a woman answered. “Hello?” Her voice was tinny and soft through the handset.
    “Beth?”
    There was a slight pause. “Yes?”
    “It’s Willem. Is Elliott there?”
    The pause went on longer. Could it be she didn’t remember him, or just surprised at his call? His tension washed away as her jubilation resonated through the phone. “Willem! It’s so good to hear your voice. How have you been? God, it’s been so long!” Hearing the happiness in her voice brought on a smile.
    “Good, good. Is he around?”
    “Yes. Hold on.”
    He listened as she walked, her footfalls barely audible through the phone. There was a whoosh sound as she covered the mouthpiece, though not enough.
    “. . . Willem. He’d .