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Memory's Gate
By Paul McCusker Zondervan Copyright © 2009 Paul McCusker
All right reserved. ISBN: 978-0-310-71438-5
Chapter One What in the world am I doing here? Elizabeth Forde asked herself as she followed a silver-haired woman down the cold, clinical main hallway of the Fawlt Line Retirement Center.
Of all the things I could have spent the rest of my summer doing, why this? Yes, she had agreed to volunteer at the retirement center. She had even felt enthusiastic about the idea at the time. But walking down the pale green hallway that smelled of pine disinfectant and aging bodies, Elizabeth wondered if she had made a mistake.
She'd been swept along by Reverend Armstrong's passionate call to the young people of the church. He had exuberantly insisted that they get involved in the community. They must be a generation of givers rather than takers, he'd said. His words were powerful and persuasive, and before she knew what she was doing she had joined a line of other young people to sign up for volunteer ser vice. Just a few hours a day, three or four days a week, for a couple of weeks. It hadn't sounded like much.
An old man, bent over like a question mark, stepped out of his room and smiled toothlessly at her.
It's too much, she thought. Let me out of here.
"I know what you're thinking," said her guide, Mrs. Kottler, with a smile. "You're thinking that a few hours a day simply won't be enough. You'll want more time. Everyone feels that way. But if you do the best you can with the hours you have, you'll be just fine. I promise. Maybe later, once you've proven yourself, we'll let you come in longer."
Elizabeth smiled noncommittally.
Mrs. Kottler wore masterfully applied makeup, discreet gold jewelry, and a fashionable dark blue dress. She smelled of expensive perfume. Elizabeth thought she looked more like a real estate agent than the administrator of an old folks' home.
"We don't call it an 'old folks home,' by the way," Mrs. Kottler said, as if she'd read Elizabeth's mind, "or a 'sanitarium' or any of those other outdated names. It's just what the sign says: it's a retirement center. People have productive and active lives here. Being a senior citizen doesn't mean you have one foot in the grave. People who retire at sixty-five often have another twenty or thirty years to enjoy. We're here to help them live those years as fully as they can."
Elizabeth glanced at a couple of productive and active residents staring blankly at the television sets in their rooms.
"Of course, we do have older residents who have gone beyond their mental or physical capacity to jog around the center six times a day, if you know what I mean," Mrs. Kottler added as they rounded a corner and walked briskly down a short corridor toward two large doors. "For everyone else, there's a full schedule of activities throughout the day. Most take place here in the recreation room."
Mrs. Kottler pushed on the two doors, which swung open grandly to reveal a large room filled with game tables, easels, a large-screen television, and bookcases filled with hundreds of books and magazines. Unlike the main halls and cafeteria Elizabeth had just seen, this room was decorated warmly with wooden end tables, lace doilies, and the kinds of chairs and sofas found in showcase living rooms. Tastefully painted scenes of sunlit hills, lush green valleys, and golden rivers adorned the walls.
"Pretty, huh? I decorated this one myself," Mrs. Kottler said. "I know what you're thinking. You're thinking that they should have let me decorate the entire center. Well, that wasn't my decision to make. The residents are responsible for decorating their own rooms any way they like. Most of the other assembly areas were done before I joined the staff."
"How long have you been working here?" Elizabeth asked politely.
"Five years," Mrs. Kottler answered. She added wistfully, "Time. It goes by so quickly, don't you find?"
For Elizabeth, who had been only eleven when Mrs. Kottler started her job, the last five years hadn't gone by quickly at all. She had traveled from the carefree days of Barbie dolls to the insecurities of middle school and now to young adulthood and wide-eyed wonder over her future. And she had also traveled to a parallel time - not that she'd be inclined to mention such a thing to Mrs. Kottler. No, it hasn't gone by very quickly, she thought. And as she considered the residents of the center and realized that one day she might have to live in a place like this, she hoped life would never go by that quickly. She shuddered at the thought.
As Elizabeth was contemplating, a tall, handsome young man entered through a door at the opposite end of the recreation room. "Mrs. K, I was wondering -"
"Doug Hall, come meet Elizabeth Forde," Mrs. Kottler said, waving her arms as if she might create enough of a breeze to sail Doug over to them.
Doug strode across the room with a smile that showed off the deep dimples in his cheeks. He's got to be a movie star, Elizabeth thought. His curly brown hair, perfectly formed face, large brown eyes, and painstakingly sculpted physique was only enhanced by the white clinical coat. He's a movie star playing a doctor, she decided.
Doug stretched out his hand and said, "Well, my enjoyment of this place just increased by a hundred percent."
She shook his hand and blushed. "Hi."
"Doug is our maintenance engineer," Mrs. Kottler explained.
Doug smiled again. "She means I'm the main janitor. But I'm more like a bouncer, in case these old merrymakers get out of control with their wild partying and carousing."
"Stop it, Doug," Mrs. Kottler said with a giggle, then turned to Elizabeth. "I know what you're thinking. You're wondering what a good-looking, charming young man like him is doing in a place like this. Right?"
For once, Mrs. Kottler had it right. He's a movie star playing a janitor? It didn't seem appropriate somehow. She waited for the answer.
"Well, if you find out, please let me know," Mrs. Kottler said with another giggle. "He won't tell anyone. I assume he has a deep, dark secret. Perhaps he was involved in some sort of intrigue in France and barely escaped from the police on his yacht. Why else would he be doing maintenance in a retirement center in a small town?"
"If you must know the truth, I ran off with the church funds," Doug said. He and Mrs. Kottler chuckled as if this little exchange had been their own private joke for a long time.
Doug rested his gaze on Elizabeth, making her feel self-conscious. How did she look in her freshly issued pink-and-white clinic jacket - frumpy or professional? Had she taken enough time with her makeup? Were her large brown eyes properly accented? Did her smile look natural? Her skin was freshly tanned, and she had no zits today, thank goodness. She'd tied back her long brown hair, but now she wished she had let it fall loose. It looked better that way, Jeff always said.
Jeff.
Thinking of her boyfriend right then made her pause - as if her self-conscious vanity was, in and of itself, disloyal to him. She glanced away from Doug quickly.
"Well, back to business," Doug said pleasantly, as if he'd picked up on her feelings and wanted to spare her any embarrassment. "I was wondering if now would be a good time to adjust the settings on the Jacuzzi. You don't have any plans to let the big kids in this afternoon, right?"
"No, Doug, the kids won't be going in today," Mrs. Kottler replied, smiling. "Do whatever you need to do."
He nodded. "Maybe Elizabeth will want to test it later when I'm finished." He raised his eyebrows and flashed a mischievous grin.
"I think Elizabeth will be too busy getting acclimated to her new duties," Mrs. Kottler replied.
Doug tipped a finger against his brow as a farewell. "If there's anything I can do to help ..."
Mrs. Kottler watched him go. "He's such a flirt. A charming, good-looking flirt, but a flirt nonetheless." Elizabeth detected a hint of jealousy in her voice.
The tour of the center eventually led Elizabeth and Mrs. Kottler outside to the five acres of manicured grounds, landscaped into gentle green slopes that ultimately rolled down to Richards Lake. The small, manmade lake was enclosed on one side by a natural forest that extended off to the horizon. Elizabeth walked alongside Mrs. Kottler, feeling oppressed by the humidity of the August afternoon. She swatted at the occasional mosquito that tried to make a meal of her arms.
"The heat and mosquitoes tend to keep everyone inside on days like this," Mrs. Kottler said.
"Except those two," Elizabeth said, gesturing to two people in a white Victorian-style gazebo near the lake.
"That's Sheriff Hounslow and his father," Mrs. Kottler said with just enough annoyance to betray her usual professional detachment. "I suppose we should say a quick hello."
As they got closer, Elizabeth saw that the sheriff, a large man in a light gray uniform, was pacing agitatedly. His father, a shadow from this distance, was sitting on one of the benches that lined the gazebo. Sheriff Hounslow saw them coming and waved.
Mrs. Kottler spoke to Elizabeth in a low voice. "The sheriff's father, Adam Hounslow, joined us just a couple of days ago. Like many new residents, he's having a hard time adjusting. Hello, Sheriff!"
Mrs. Kottler and Elizabeth mounted the steps to the shade underneath the round white roof covering the gazebo.
"Look who's here," Sheriff Hounslow announced. "Mrs. Kottler and - well, well - Elizabeth Forde."
"Oh, you know my new volunteer? Elizabeth will be with us a few hours a day for the next couple of weeks."
"That's nice. You be sure to take special care of my father," the sheriff said, nodding toward the older man. Elizabeth could see the old man clearly now. His frame was stooped with age and arthritis, and he had a pale, wrinkled face with hazel eyes. Wisps of thin white hair sprayed out from a spotted crown, and he scowled at them, deep frown lines etching his forehead. Elizabeth could clearly see the resemblance between father and son - in their features and their demeanor.
"Wouldn't you like a pretty girl like Elizabeth to help take care of you, Dad?" the sheriff asked.
"I don't need to be taken care of," the old man growled. He tucked his head down against his chest.
Sheriff Hounslow ignored the remark and continued. "I'm surprised to see you here, Elizabeth. Shouldn't you be getting ready for the grand opening of that historical amusement park, or whatever Malcolm calls it?"
"It's not an amusement park," Elizabeth corrected him. "It's called the Historical Village."
"I didn't know you were connected to Malcolm Dubbs." Mrs. Kottler said, impressed. Malcolm Dubbs was the closest thing Fawlt Line had to royalty, a member of the family that had been in the area for nearly 300 years. Malcolm came from England to manage the Dubbs estate after the last American adult member of the Dubbs family had been killed.
"She's also dating Malcolm's cousin, Jeff Dubbs," the sheriff informed her.
"Are you? Doug will be very disappointed," Mrs. Kottler teased, then said earnestly, "Jeff's parents died in that terrible plane crash, didn't they? That was so sad. I think Malcolm Dubbs is a remarkable man. Imagine taking in that boy."
"That boy is the true heir to the entire Dubbs estate," the sheriff interjected. "If I were him, I'd have a lot of trouble with cousin Malcolm using my money to build that park."
"It's not Jeff's money unless Malcolm dies," Elizabeth corrected him. "He's entitled to do whatever he wants with it. And Jeff is very proud of Malcolm."
Mrs. Kottler nodded. "After all, Malcolm is using it to create something educational for everyone. It's not as if he's squandering it." She turned to Elizabeth. "Is it true that he's brought in buildings, displays, and artifacts from all over the world?"
"Whatever he can find. As much as he could find from the past few hundred years, from picture frames and hairbrushes to schoolhouses and church ruins." Elizabeth covered a smile, realizing she had just recited from one of Malcolm's brochures. "Phase One opens on Saturday."
"Phase One?"
"Malcolm says the village is a work in progress. He'll open various sections of it as they're ready."
"Like I said, it's an amusement park of history," the sheriff said dismissively.
Elizabeth frowned at Sheriff Hounslow, knowing better than most the adversarial relationship he had with Malcolm. Elizabeth suspected that the sheriff was jealous of Malcolm's wealth and the respect he commanded from the towns people. Whatever the reason, Hounslow never missed an opportunity to poke fun at Malcolm's projects and eccentricities.
"I can't wait to go on the rides!" he added.
"Are there rides?" Mrs. Kottler asked, confused.
Elizabeth shook her head. "No. Just buildings and displays."
Sheriff Hounslow continued. "There's going to be a big celebration. The mayor will be there as well as a special assistant to the governor, and there'll be a telegram from the president and maybe even world peace - all thanks to Malcolm Dubbs. Ha!"
"Don't be such a pompous fool, Richard," Adam Hounslow barked at his son. "I'm looking forward to seeing the village."
"I'm glad you're looking forward to something," the sheriff muttered.
"Now that you've stuck me in a place like this, I'm lucky to look forward to anything," Adam snapped in return.
"Oh, I'm sure you don't mean that," Mrs. Kottler said. "The Fawlt Line Retirement Center will be like home to you in no time at all, I promise."
Adam scowled. "This will never be my home. My home has been sold right out from under me by my thoughtful and compassionate son."
"I'm not getting into this argument with you again, Dad," Hounslow said irritably.
"Yes you are," Adam replied. "As long as you are forcing me to live in a place I don't want to live, we'll have this argument."
The sheriff turned on his father. "Where else are you going to live? You couldn't stay in that big old place alone. You can barely take care of yourself, let alone keep up with a big house."
The old man snorted and turned away.
Sheriff Hounslow kept at it. "Do I have to remind you what led up to this? Do I have to announce to the whole world how you nearly burned the house down - twice - by forgetting to turn the stove burners off? Or the time you flooded the house by wandering off to the store while the bath water was running?"
Mrs. Kottler caught Elizabeth's eyes and jerked her head toward the center, signaling that they should leave. Heading across the grounds, Elizabeth could still hear the voices of the two men arguing behind her.
"I know what you're thinking," Mrs. Kottler said. "You're thinking that Adam must be crazy not to like our center. Well, I agree. Not to worry, though. He'll get used to it. They always do."
They approached the building from the back, where a stone patio filled with flowering plants had been added to the recreation room. A man in a wheelchair was pruning the plants, meticulously spraying the leaves with a water bottle and wiping them. He had long gray hair that poured out from under a large baseball cap. Beneath the brim, he wore sunglasses so dark that Elizabeth couldn't see his eyes at all. A bushy mustache and beard flowed downward. It struck her that, apart from his cheeks, his face was entirely covered. He wore a baggy jogging suit that, to Elizabeth's thinking, must have been terribly hot.
"That's Mr. Betterman, another new resident," Mrs. Kottler said. "Come meet him."
They crossed the patio and Mrs. Kottler introduced them.
Mr. Betterman didn't speak, but grunted and held a carnation out to her.
"Very nice," Elizabeth said.
"Take it," Mrs. Kottler whispered.
Elizabeth reached out to take the flower. For a second he didn't let go, but used the moment to lean closer to her and whisper, "I know who you are." He gave her a slight smile, then turned away to fiddle with the planter.
Disconcerted, Elizabeth looked to Mrs. Kottler, who gently shrugged as they walked inside.
"I wonder what he meant by that?" Mrs. Kottler mused, once they were inside and out of Mr. Betterman's hearing.
"I don't know," Elizabeth replied, but something about the man's half-smile and voice seemed familiar to her somehow.
"Still, it was an honor that he singled you out, you know," Mrs. Kottler said. "He doesn't usually talk to anyone. He's a little eccentric."
No kidding, Elizabeth thought.
As they drifted through the recreation room, Elizabeth found herself looking for the handsome maintenance man. She wasn't a flirt - nor was she interested in anyone but Jeff - yet she was drawn to Doug. She wasn't sure why ... Elizabeth shook her head to clear it and turned her attention back to Mrs. Kottler, who was finishing the tour..
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Memory's Gate by Paul McCusker Copyright © 2009 by Paul McCusker. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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