Beyond the Tree House Read online

  “We would not have survived a fire. I’m surprised you discovered them.”

  “I’m a light sleeper at the best of times.” The bleeding from the head wound has stopped but I’d still rather clean it and put some antiseptic on it. You can’t be careful enough with these things.

  “I wouldn’t have known what to do. You taking over was a blessing.” I feel Amadeus fading back into the tree house. He never was a fan of big praise. Something niggles in the back of my mind. Then I realize what it is.

  “Why didn’t Prince warn us?”

  “What? Prince?” Amadeus shoots down the stairs and into the laundry where Prince has his bed. “He’s okay, but he’s fast asleep. That’s … they drugged the dog. We are like sitting ducks. We need to plan and have to be more proactive.”

  I shake my head and frown. A lot of planning must have gone into the break-in and people must have known a lot about our situation and us.

  “We have to ring the police in the morning. I’m convinced we were dealing with experts. Without you, I don’t know… I don’t want to think about it.”

  “Just doing my job.” Amadeus climbs up the steps to our tree house.

  I send another thank you after him, but he’s already gone. In one way he’s right, we need a plan and we need it sooner than later. I touch my head and wince. With the candle in my right hand, I go down to the laundry to fetch my first aid kit. I have to hurry; the Tribe is stirring.

  Chapter Twelve

  Sky: 9 March 2017, Early Morning, Wright’s Homestead

  I like the quiet mornings in the tree house when the Tribe is still asleep. Those moments are precious and short-lived because the tranquil common room turns into a humming beehive. When we wake up, it’s not like the grasp of sleep lessens, the world comes bit by bit into focus, and we open our eyes. It’s different for us. We plunge into a scene like apples falling from a tree because they’re ripe, or the wind blew them off.

  That’s what happened on the morning of the burglary. First Amadeus woke up and sprinted to help Ama. Then, like a chain reaction, everyone else shows up. Soon the common room was filling with fearful kids. With Ama and Amadeus dealing with the intruders, Elise and Lilly had to distract the little ones. In emergencies like this, we run like well-oiled clockwork.

  Do other multiples experience the same? I don’t know. My hunch is, it’s different for everyone because there is no such thing as the multiple. Like every other cross-section of people, we come in all shapes and forms. Some are boring and some are exciting; some are intelligent and some are stupid; some are caring and some are selfish; some are good-hearted and some are mean spirited.

  It wasn’t always like this. For years our system was unorganized, and we weren’t aware of each other. For a while, that was scary for the Tribe. We knew we weren’t alone, but we didn’t know what that meant. Miss Marple helped us to put our ducks in a row. From then on we functioned better within ourselves and with outside people.

  For us the main difference is that through the trauma, our personality—who we are—has been sliced open, leaving a deep gash. Through it, we gain insights into all parts. The better we understand these aspects, the greater is our self-awareness. We are lining up horizontally like Russian dolls, all separate bits but stuck together we make one whole. For us, it’s important to understand what’s going on for all our parts or our day turns to custard. We can’t afford to look the other way.

  I don’t slip into the body and interact with outside people. That’s not what I’m here for. I’m always there in the background, like the heartbeat that never stops. My job is … it’s difficult to explain. Perhaps the easiest way is to see our system as a beehive. Each of us has a cell we live in. Each cell has a different memory, different task, and different ways of interacting with the outside world. I am the wax that holds the cells together, like the scaffolding that the individual parts of the Tribe depend on.

  Lilly describes me as the part that is the soul and holds the moral compass for our system. It could be true. I’ve never seen it like that. I always assumed I could reflect on the right or wrong ways of doing things because I’m not bogged down with everyday operating stuff. I’m aware of what happened but I can’t access the sensations or emotions of memories. In that way, I’m the observer, like the umpire at a tennis match, making sure things don’t get out of hand yet never playing myself. That’s me: always thinking, always reflecting, always trying to make sense.

  This morning Elise joins me in my corner of the common room. She looks more rested and less stressed since Scott appears to improve. But I can tell she’s worried about something.

  “I don’t trust the police to find the arsonists or the burglars. We should call a team meeting to decide what to do. Until they discharge Scott, we should do something to get more clarity about what is going on? I hate him leaving the hospital and we are none the wiser!”

  I like this girl … well, she’s a grown woman. From someone who didn’t want to accept the Tribe, even refused to believe in it, Elise came a long way trusting that together we can solve our problems. She and Lilly have become our front person to the outside world and both are doing a stellar job.

  “I agree. With Scott on the mend, the chaos in the tree house is reducing back to normal disorder. That should give us space to think and plan.”

  I sound more optimistic than I am. All the thinking in the last few weeks didn’t bring us any closer to understanding what it is we are fighting. Is there even an enemy out there who is planning out downfall or is it all in our heads?

  “I don’t believe it’s in our heads. When Amadeus fought the intruders a few nights ago…those were real people, real scumbags out to harm. I got a hell of a fright when I saw him lashing into them. At one point it looked like he’d strangle this guy who called him a woman. It frightens me when he appears to lose all control.”

  In those moments he frightens everyone, including the kids. The slightest sign of anger alarms the Tribe because in our childhood we’ve seen countless examples of adults unable to control themselves, turning anger into violence and harming us and others.

  “He has his reasons. I trust him to know what he’s doing, even if it looks strange to us. It’s in his nature to fight. We are not good at expressing anger, thus fighting looks bewildering to you and me.”

  I can tell Elise is still ill at ease. Having existed outside of the Tribe for decades puts her at a disadvantage. She hasn’t seen Amadeus when we were younger when he had to bottle up his anger and take what they dished out to us. He took a lot of the abuse in silence because we were too little and our body wasn’t strong enough to fight back.

  “There is more to it, isn’t there?” She rubs her chin and looks at me.

  “He is excellent at picking up signs of danger the rest of us are oblivious to.”

  “When Tom and I talked to the guy at the petrol station, I thought he’d lied to us. You should have seen how he glared at Tom. I bet he remembered to whom he sold several canisters of petrol, I’m sure about it.”

  We’ve talked about it at length and didn’t get anywhere with it. It’s the same with the people from the Department of Conservation. DOC is adamant nobody worked in our valley on the day of the fire. The guys in the truck Lilly and Tom met on the way to Scott’s must have been the arsonists. But they vanished as if the earth had swallowed them.

  “I’m tired of running in circles. No matter how hard I try, I can’t get my head around what people want from us.”

  “Don’t give up, Elise. Perhaps we are trying too hard. We should let things settle, but not give up.” I’m not sure even I believe what I’m saying.

  “It’s too dangerous to let it go.” Lilly has joined us. “There must be an explanation of why people snoop around our house now. Why now? It stood empty for over thirty years. It would have been easy to search every square inch of the place three times over.”

  “You are right.”

  Amadeus comes and sits next to me w
ith a serious frown on his face.

  “I bet our arrival triggered the need to find something that only became valuable or important because we moved in. The cheek of people coming into our house. They must be desperate.”

  If Amadeus is worried we are in more trouble than I thought. I hate being one of those doomed people in horror movies. You know the ones, you realize by the lighting and the music that they shouldn’t go into the forest, the deserted house, or the mine shaft, because there they’ll meet their gruesome end. And still, they go, against any common sense. We should be smarter than that.

  “The people responsible for the fire aren’t finished yet. Scott is still alive and we’re still here. It wouldn’t surprise me if they were the same people who broke into our house the other night. Would our house be next to burn? What could they hope to achieve by killing Scott?”

  Amadeus is pacing the length of the common room, balling his fists and pulling at his bottom lip with his teeth.

  “It’s possible they hoped we would find the neighborhood too unsafe for us and sell up and leave,” Elise said. But then she shakes her head. “Why would they not burn our house down? Wouldn’t that be easier? We would have to move if we had nowhere to stay.”

  “Don’t be naive, Elise. If we are the target, burning our house down doesn’t solve the problem. We could move in with Scott. And an arson attack on our house so soon after the court case would point immediately at the Gateway people.”

  “Thanks, Amadeus, I see your point. But how can we keep ourselves safe? I can’t see us standing up to invisible people.”

  We are running out of options. Knowing people can get in and out of our house without a problem worries me. If only we knew what they were looking for.

  “I’d say the best thing is to sell up and move. We aren’t savvy detectives.”

  It shouldn’t surprise me that I get little support for my view. We’ve been running and hiding the best part of our life. It’s heartbreaking given how much hope we’d put into moving to the homestead.

  “I’m sure I could find out more. I could ask God. He must have an idea of what’s going on.”

  “Who said that?”

  For a moment I thought an intruder sneaked into our tree house. But that isn’t possible because it’s not a real place people can break into. Then I see Mikey inching toward our small group. He hesitates as he puts one foot in front of the other as if he isn’t sure whether the floor will collapse underneath him.

  “It’s me, Mikey.”

  “I don’t understand? What has God to do with that? What are you talking about?”

  Amadeus quit pacing the room and looks down at Mikey who does a fair bit of quivering under the stern scrutiny.

  “You guys never notice anything because nobody pays attention to me. I was good enough to find the pictures of the bad people, but after that, I was a nobody again. It’s a secret between me and God and I’m excellent at keeping secrets. God knows I’m better than just being in charge of finding the tennis balls Prince is hiding. He knows I’m the right person to help with big secrets.”

  For seconds, while Mikey stood next to Elise, his bottom lip pushed out a smidgen showing his defiance, the stunned silence continued. It only becomes awkward when we all stare at him. Speechless and grappling for words. Something went wrong. Not the fact that Mikey talked to a stranger—whoever it is—but that he felt left out.

  Busy with our adult agenda, we failed him. We failed to include him…and he might not be the only one. How much attention did we give the children in the last months? Words can’t describe how guilt-ridden I am.

  “Oh my goodness. Mikey, who did you talk to? What makes you think it was God?”

  “Because he saw everything. For example how good I was at keeping secrets. You guys don’t even appreciate that. He had to be God. Who else would understand that the fire means we are in danger? God helps to keep us safe and asked me to tell him what’s going on, where we’re going and all that stuff. When I gave him the gun Elise buried in the veggie garden, he was thrilled.”

  “You gave the gun away?” Amadeus’ voice boomed and Mikey’s bottom lip trembles.

  “Yes, I did, and God was over the moon about it. He wanted me to find the treasure the bad guys were looking for. He was sure I can find it if there is one to find. But I found nothing. He was not pleased about that. That’s when I told him I couldn’t spy for him anymore because it’s not right to spy against one’s family. And this is my family even if nobody cares much about me.”

  My heart goes out to the little man who feels overlooked, almost as if he’s not part of the Tribe. He appears so lost.

  “I’m sorry, Mikey, that you feel left out. I haven’t forgotten you. I thought you’d left with the other kids to the sanctuary having fun playing pirates and treasure hunters.”

  Lilly bends down to him and cradles him in her arms. With a soothing softness that reminds me of Ama, she rocks him gently to the singsong of her words.

  “I’m so sorry. We got so caught in the drama that we neglected you. We should have done better. Much better.”

  “Thank you for telling us, Mikey. That was the correct thing to do. You are right, we are one family and everyone is important and loved. Everyone, including you.”

  As so often, Elise finds the right words. And she’s right. We are one big family, even if it doesn’t look much organized at the moment with half of us here and the rest in the sanctuary.

  Lilly gets up and paces the room. “We are missing something. I feel it in my bones. We should go back to the beginning and look for the missing link.”

  “Sounds good. We won’t find it sitting around here,” said Amadeus, his voice steeped in frustration.

  “We all agree that something has to happen. What do you mean by going back to the beginning?”

  I glance at Lilly who has an exciting sheen in her eyes. Knowing her, that doesn’t bode well, but maybe she’s onto something?

  “I want to see the graves of auntie and the parents.”

  As so often, she catches me by surprise.

  “The graves? We don’t even know where they are. What do you expect to find?”

  “I have no idea, just a strong urge to see their graves. Perhaps the dead are talking to us? You remember this Ghost Whisperer stuff. The dead are waiting for us to connect before they cross over to give us important clues.”

  “I could help with that. I’m good with clues.” Mikey’s eyes light up.

  “That’s a great idea. With you at my side, we’ll find what we need.”

  Where Lilly gets her conviction is a mystery, but as Amadeus said, we’ve nothing to lose. Although, Elise rolls her eyes and Amadeus huffs. None of us are impressed with the plan but we decide to go. It can’t hurt to visit the cemetery. We are in town every day visiting Scott, a detour won’t hurt. It’s better than sitting around at home wondering where the next blow is coming from. I close the meeting.

  “I don’t hold much hope the dearly departed will talk to us, but as long as there’s nothing better to do, why not go past the cemetery?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Elise: 9 March 2017, Morning, Wright’s Homestead

  Hours have passed since the intruders fled the house. The night has swallowed their noisy retreat through the undergrowth leaving nothing but the familiar silence of the night. As if they’d never been here.

  I open the door again and stare into the dawn. I’ve never missed the city with its nosy neighbors and relentless traffic that only seems to sleep between two and four in the morning. At this moment, though, I could do with a row of street lamps with their amber glow, or the odd light flickering in nearby houses, where early risers prepare to join the morning rush to work. The intruders surprised us and we are out of sorts.

  After the men left, a wave of fear rippled through the Tribe and settled as a sense of nausea in my stomach. It’s still there. Even the morning’s cold breath cannot drive it out. I hate to admit that Tom was righ
t. I’m not safe in this house by myself in the middle of nowhere.

  Prince joins me. He stubs my left hand with his nose telling me he’s at my side. I acknowledge him with a scratch behind his ears and leave my hand on his head. Together, we stand in the doorframe and watch dawn’s early light expanding over the sky, reluctant to say goodbye to the darkness of the night, yet not ready to embrace fully the light of the new day.

  I pace through the large room and make myself a cup of tea, which I forget and allowed going cold. Whom am I kidding? I’m hiding behind a cloak of a functioning multiplicity, but I’m not functioning. Parts of me are shaking with fear. Parts that I push to the back. I look at my hands that an hour ago were willing to strangle another person. Well, not exactly by me but Amadeus.

  What am I thinking? I’m not a man or a child or a warrior. I’m Elise, a middle-aged woman who flees into the fantasy of being someone else and takes over the skills and mindset of Amadeus. But that’s not real. Amadeus is me. We are not separate. We only think we are. I touch the plaster on my forehead where Amadeus got hit earlier. My forehead.

  That being different people appears real to us doesn’t help. I can lead conversations with him inside my head, as I can do with all the other parts of my Self. Doing so transports me to a place not many people can even dream of. The richness of my inner world is as colorful and exciting as my imagination allows.

  At the end of the day, though, they are all me. The different skills, memories, and thoughts are all mine. It has always been me, a woman with a rich inner life that others called crazy. I’m not crazy, but I’m not well either. We’ve come a long way, but we aren’t there yet.

  I need to dispel the fear I’m experiencing. I am still threatened by someone or something out there. A faceless enemy closing in on me and its reach has spilled over to Scott. It’s my fault he is in the hospital fighting for his life.

  It’s easier said than done. The parts may all be me but I can’t access their skills and knowledge at will. I wish I could. Then I wouldn’t shrink mentally into a helpless child when danger knocks at my door. Like right now, feeling all small and helpless. I need to dispel the fear.