Jade (Wildflowers 3)

"'Yes,' I said and thought it was a strange conversation for him to have with a total stranger, but I imagined that in his mind, because of my E-mail correspondence with Craig, he didn't think of me as a complete stranger.

"'Craig told you a little about the divorce, right?' he asked. 'I know you told him all about your parents' situation.'

" 'Yes: I said.

"Actually, I was getting a little upset at how much Craig had told his father. None of my friends would have shared so much with their parents. Had Craig gone so far as to print out my letters? I wondered.

"As if he could read my thoughts, Mr. Bennet added, 'Craig often read your letters at dinner to us. I'm sorry for your troubles at home. Your parents sound like. . . dummies,' he suggested. 'Why can't they see what they're doing to you? It pains Craig to read some of that stuff. He gets so angry, he can't eat. He wants to know why adults are so cruel to their own children.

"'Then he starts talking about his own mother and asking me more questions so he can tell you about her, I think. I hate talking about her. I try to forget her. I even got so I can't recall her face anymore. You can push things out of your mind if you want to, you know. You just think of something else every time the bad things come up. You say, no, no to it. Get out, out!' he practically screamed.

"'I used to sit in front of a mirror and stare into my own eyes and just dare a memory to come into my head. You should try it sometime. It helps, believe me,' he said.

"I smiled at him and gazed around curiously. The room looked like it needed more than just a good dusting. I saw cobwebs in the corners and layers of dust on the marble mantel. When I gazed down at the floor around his chair, I saw what looked like caked old food and I could have sworn I caught sight of a rat slipping behind the armoire."

"Ugh," Misty cried. "Why didn't you just leave?" "I still wanted to see Craig.

"'You're as pretty as your picture,' Mr. Bennet said. 'Craig's going to be happy you came. I know what,' he said, slapping his hands together, 'why don't I show you his room and his computer while you wait?'

"'He might not like that

,' I said.

"'Sure he will. Don't you want to see it? That's where your friendship began. It's like. . like something historic for you two. Right?'

" 'Yes, but . ."

"'Well, then don't be shy. Not with Craig. Not after all you two have shared. Why, he's told you more about us than he's told relatives and best friends, and I bet you've done the same. I can see from the look on your face that you have. That's nice. That's something unusual these days . . . trust. You're the nicest thing to come into his life since . . . since before,' he said, and I could tell he was doing what he described: keeping the bad memories out.

"'I bet you'd like to see this old house anyway,' he added, standing up. 'He told you how long it's been in the family, right?'

"'Yes,' I said. 'I know the style. My father built a house like this for a client in Beverly Hills two years ago.'

"'This house was built in 1870,' he began proudly as he headed for the door. He paused, waiting. Once again, my smarter legs hesitated, but I forced myself up and followed him out. 'Of course, a lot was done to it since, but not so much over the past forty years or so.

" Craig's room is on the third floor with the best view,' he said, leading me up the rickety stairway after he flipped a switch that lit up a small, naked bulb overhead.

"We wound around and up. The second-floor landing was narrow and smaller than I had anticipated and the third floor was really more like an attic. There was just one bedroom and an adjoining small bathroom. He turned on the light and I saw the computer on the desk to the left. It was on, the monitor glowing. In the center of the room was a fourposter bed, and to the right of that, a dresser and a closet. The bed was neatly made, almost as tightly tucked as a military bunk.

"There was little on the walls, some pictures of Craig and Sonny but when they were considerably younger, a picture of a jet plane and a poster of an old Star Trek movie. It gave me a strange feeling, like I was moving back through time rather than looking in on what was someone's present bedroom.

"'Here,' Mr. Bennet said, 'look at this.' He was at the computer table. 'Your most recent letter.' He held it up and I walked in and looked at it. It was my most recent E-mail. 'Just take a gander at that view from that window,' he suggested, moving away from the computer. 'You'll see why Craig would rather stay up here than any other part of this house. We've still got one of the best views in the neighborhood. Go on,' he urged.

"I walked to the window and looked out. The casing was so caked with dust, it was obvious that the window hadn't been opened for a long time, maybe even years. The view was nice, especially because it was night and there were so many lights.

"'Very nice,' I said, turning. He was at the door, smiling.

"'Good. I'm glad you like it. Enjoy,' he said and stepped out into the hall. 'I'll tell Craig you're up here when he comes home.'

"'What?' I gasped as he closed the door. 'Wait,' I cried. I moved toward it but stopped when I heard the lock click. It was one of those skeleton key door locks that you could shut from the outside. The click was like a bullet whizzing by my head. What was going on? I wondered.

"I ran to the door and pulled on the handle, shocked now that he had locked me in.

"'Mr. Bennet!' I cried. 'What are you doing? Why did you lock the door? Let me out. Please.'

"I could hear his footsteps as he descended the stairway and then all was silent and the glow of the computer played shadows On the opposite wall. I pounded on the door and screamed and pounded and then listened, but I heard nothing. I put my ear against the door, pounded and waited and listened and then I heard some music start below, light, big band music.

"I returned to the window, thinking I might be able to open it and shout down to someone on the street, but the casing really was as good as welded shut. For a few moments I toyed with the idea of smashing the window?'