Vanished (Private 12)

“Me? What about her?” he asked, pointing at me with his knife. “She’s the delinquent. I’m only missing one class today.”

“Shut up and eat your pancakes,” my dad said, smacking the back of Scott’s head as he sat. “Your sister’s going through a rough time.”

I smiled my thanks.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ve been going through a rough time since the day she was born,” Scott joked, grinning at me as he chewed.

“Ha-ha,” I replied happily.

And then the doorbell rang.

Everyone sort of froze. My mom looked at the clock. “Who’s ringing the doorbell at eight thirty on a Wednesday?” she asked.

“Meter reader?” my dad ventured.

“I’ll get it,” I said, pushing myself back from the table. I walked down the short hall, past the staircase to the front door, and glanced out the skinny window.

Time stopped. The entire world turned inside out.

Noelle Lange was standing on the cement step in front of my house in Croton, Pennsylvania, along with some elegant, aged woman in a fur coat. A black limousine idled behind them at the curb. I narrowed my eyes at Noelle’s companion, feeling a thump of recognition somewhere deep in the back of my brain. I knew this woman. But why?

And then, ever so suddenly, it hit me. She’d been in the circle at the observatory. I’d taken a candle right out of her hands and tossed it on the floor.

For a long moment, I thought about not opening the door. Let them stand there in the cold. Let them stand there long enough to figure out they weren’t wanted and then get back in their luxury vehicle and leave. Then Noelle reached out to touch the bell again, and I yanked the door open before she could hit the button.

Noelle started. The older woman, however, didn’t move a muscle. It was as if nothing could shake her.

“Hey,” Noelle said.

I just looked at her. If I’d been wondering whether my anger had abated, I now had my answer. I was still pissed. If anything, I was even more pissed.

“Hello, Reed. I’m Lenora Lange,” the elderly woman said. Her white hair was cut into a soft bob that grazed her sharp cheekbones. “Noelle’s grandmother.”

“Hello,” I said suspiciously.

“May we come in?” she asked patiently.

“I don’t know,” I replied. I really didn’t. I still couldn’t imagine what the hell they were doing there.

“Reed? Who is it?” My mother came up behind me, all smiles. She was about two steps from me and the door, when she locked eyes with Mrs. Lange and all the color drained out of her face. Noelle looked at her grandmother warily. I looked at my mom. But then, as if nothing odd had happened, my mom closed the distance to the door and smiled.

“Hello, Noelle,” she said.

“Hi, Mrs. Brennan,” Noelle replied. “May I introduce my grandmother, Lenora Lange?”

“Yes, of course,” my mother said. “It’s good to … see you.” She reached out to shake Mrs. Lange’s hand. Mrs. Lange hesitated just a moment then took it.

“Charmed,” she said.

They both withdrew their hands. I felt apprehension skitter down my back as the four of us stood there in silence, two on the inside, two on the out. There was something going on here, I just had no clue what it was.

“Well, come in,” my mother said finally. Her voice was loud and strained, as if someone had pinched her and she was trying to bite back the pain.

Mrs. Lange crossed into our tiny front hall first, followed by Noelle. She gave me this look that was like an apology crossed with curiosity and giddiness. I got the distinct impression that whatever was happening, all three of them knew about it. But how could my mom have a secret with Noelle and her grandmother?

Once again, I was the naive one. In the dark, as usual.

“Come in, come in,” my mom said, heading back to the kitchen. “Can I get you anything? Coffee? Breakfast? We have plenty of pancakes.”