Page 43 of The Night the Lights Went Out
“I see where Lily gets her frown.”
“Oh.” She raised her hand without thinking, using her forefinger to massage the crease so it wouldn’t stay. Just as her mother had shown her when she was a teenager.
He moved to the back door. “Come on—let me show you the cellar.” He held the door for her and as she passed him she wondered if she’d only imagined the crackle of electricity that seemed to spark between them. She smoothed her hair with her hands, imagining it shooting up in all directions.
They walked to the side of the house, where two large wooden doors covered what looked like a giant slice of pie glued to the house’s foundation. “These doors are pretty heavy, so make sure you give them a good yank—you should probably practice, so if there ever is a tornado and you need to get in here in a hurry, you won’t panic.”
She nodded, hoping she’d never have to use it for real. She was petrified of dark spaces and spiders, having somehow inherited those fears from David after he died. She’d always been the one to comfort and pretend bravery when he was alive. After he died, she found she couldn’t bear to be inside small, dark places, David’s death ramming home the fact that monsters really did exist in the dark spots right outside the edge of the light.
He squatted down. “I’ve attached a few new sliding bolts on the outside, but I also gave you an easy four-digit combo lock as a deterrent to keep people out of it—you don’t really need anything more secure unless you’re putting valuables in there.”
He raised his eyebrows in question and she shook her head.
“This way, nobody has to hunt for a key in an emergency. I would make it easy to remember—and suggest making it the same code as your cell phone access. I’ll even program it for you if you’d like—or show you how to do it yourself.”
She smiled hesitantly. “I don’t even have a pass code on my phone.”
Wade frowned. “Still? That’s not a good idea, but you probably already know that. But it’s your decision.” He indicated the cellar door again. “I’ve installed several secure bolt locks on the other side of the doors to keep them shut in strong winds, but they can only be locked and unlocked by hand from the inside.” He stood back. “You want to give it a try?”
She shook her head. “Not particularly. I’m not a fan of... cellars.”
He nodded sympathetically, which made her like him a little more. “Is it the critters or the dark?”
“Both.”
“Hm. Well, maybe this particular cellar won’t be so scary to you if it’s familiar. And if you go down with someone you trust. But it would be a good idea to do it before you have to go here in an emergency and your kids need you to be calm.”
She knew he was right, and even appreciated his offer of help, but she couldn’t bring herself to say yes.
“Here, I’ll open it the first time—you have the rest of the summer to practice. And then we’ll just go down there to poke around for a few minutes, see if there’re any supplies you might want to store down there, like bottled water and blankets, and then we’ll come right back up in the sunshine. I’ve got a flashlight in my tool belt that I’ll leave down there for you. I could even hold your hand if that would make you feel better.”
Zing.She swallowed. “I’m sure that won’t be necessary. I’ve survived childbirth twice, after all.”
He chuckled, the sound low and rumbly in his chest, the chest that was currently covered by a close-fitting T-shirt that showed off a rather impressive outline of muscles. She looked away.
“Let’s get this over with. I still have to move the books and start dinner before the kids get home.”
Wade leaned down and yanked on the metal handle of each door, swinging them open so that she could look down a short set of rocky steps that led to absolute darkness. As promised, he pulled a flashlight from his tool belt and flipped it on, the triangular slice of light illuminating a low ceiling covered with dark wooden beams and thick cobwebs. “You ready?” Wade asked, holding out his hand.
She hadn’t meant to, but she eagerly accepted it, allowing herself to enjoy the little sparks of heat as his skin touched hers, and let him lead her down the steps. It was cooler down there and smelled of dirt and dust and old air. Merilee took an involuntary step backward, bumping into a solid chest that had the opposite effect from calming her down.
He aimed the flashlight’s beam upward. “Pull on the chain—let’s see if the lightbulb works.”
She gave it a tug and nothing happened.
“Remind me to bring a supply of lightbulbs, too—in case the electricity doesn’t go off in a storm.”
Wade put his hand on her arm and aimed the flashlight around the space, illuminating several pieces of broken furniture, a small table with a metal box of candles sitting on it next to a rusted bread box. He’d examined the perimeter of the room, and was turning back to her to speak, when she noticed something on the far wall, a dark rectangular shape crouched against the floor.
“Shine it over there,” Merilee said, guiding his hand to the shape. She was eager to leave this dark place, but his nearby presence gave her enough courage to look around and even be a little curious.
“I sure hope that’s not a coffin,” Wade said as he moved forward.
Merilee frowned, temporarily aware of the darkness around them. “If you’re trying to reassure me, it’s not working.”
Up close, with the flashlight trained on the object, she could tell whatever was underneath was covered by several heavy blankets, and she was relieved when Wade started removing them without asking her to help. He pulled off four of them, piling them on the ground, eventually revealing what appeared to be an army footlocker.
Wade moved closer to the trunk and stared at it for a moment, contemplating. “It might not be a coffin, but a body could definitely fit in there.”
