The Face in the House

I

From the back seat, 10-year-old Theodora White looked out the window and up at the grey, evening sky. Rain spattered against the windshield, then gushed along the sides of the car in thin streaks. She watched them sleepily, lightly bored, and pretended that the streaks of rain were racing each other from one end of the window to the other.

"You asleep back there, Teddy?" her dad said from the front seat.

She looked up from the window, saw her dad looking at her through the rear-view mirror. His eyes were red-rimmed, tired-looking, but Teddy could tell he was trying to sound upbeat.

"No," she said. "Are we there yet?"

Her dad laughed because she had already asked that several times. But this time, her dad answered, "Getting close now."

Teddy was on her way to stay at her great-grandma's house for the weekend. Her dad said it was because "mommy and daddy need to have some alone time," but Teddy knew it was because they were getting a divorce. Teddy knew what that meant, but she didn't know what it involved. She supposed it was a lot of work, because this trip to grandma's house was highly unusual. In fact, she had never been to grandma's house, and she had never met her great-grandma Rose before.

"Why am I staying at Grandma Rose's house?" she asked, not for the first time. Teddy often asked adults the same questions more than once, because she found she got different answers each time.

"Because your cousin Ginger is in college now and she can't watch you," her dad said.

"But mom says Grandma Rose is a strange old bat," Teddy said.

She saw her dad grimace in the rear-view mirror. In an even tone, he said, "Your great-grandma is an unusual woman... but that's not a very nice thing to sa--"

"Mom says she never leaves the house or ever talks to anyone," Teddy insisted.

"Well, Grandma Rose doesn't like to leave the house. She's very old, you know. But she's your great-grandma, and it's about time you met her."

Teddy sat in silence, not satisfied with this answer. She shifted her gaze back to the racing droplets on her window. But now, as they drew nearer to her destination, and her chest grew tighter, the streaks of rain no longer provided even the slightest entertainment. Now, these little rivers of rain began to irritate her with their unpredictable speeds and patterns. Teddy sighed and looked away, the car suddenly seeming to close in around her.

Her gaze fell upon a structure rising in the distance through the windshield. First, she saw a dark-shingled roof. Then deep blue siding and dilapidated shuttered windows came into view. From where she sat, it was the only house she'd seen in quite a while. Though small, it had a powerful presence against the empty fields that surrounded it.

Teddy watched as the house came closer into view. The car began to slow, and came to a stop at the curb outside the little house. It loomed over them, a dark shadow in the evening sky. Rain pattered on the roof of the car.

They got out of the car. While her dad went around to the trunk for her luggage, grimacing against the rain, Teddy stared up at the house; it was all overgrown shrubbery and dark, motionless windows. It was a simple little house, but there was an air of mystery surrounding it. Beneath the dark, arching roof sat two little shuttered windows. In the center below sat a firmly shut door. As she stood there, the rain matting her hair to her forehead, she imagined the house was a face: two windows for eyes, one door for a mouth. If it could say anything, Teddy thought, it would say, "Nobody's ho-ome!"

After handing her the duffel bag filled with a weekend's worth of clothes, her dad urged Teddy to walk toward the front door.

He knocked once, friendly. Twice, a bit louder. And when nobody came to the door, he knocked a third time, beating his knuckles against the gaping mouth of the home. Teddy listened for movement from within, but heard none. She heard her dad swear under his breath, and she knew from the way he stood that he was losing patience.

"Hey, anybody home?" he shouted, still knocking. "It's rainin' out here!"

Nothing. Not a single movement from inside.

As he swore again, talking under his breath, Teddy reached up and knocked on the door. Once. Twice...

And before she could bring her knuckles down a third time, the door creaked open. She peeked inside, but saw only darkness within.

"Ah, good," her dad said, bending down to give Teddy a hug. "Okay, I'll see you Sunday. Be good for grandma?"

It was then that Teddy realized her dad wasn't coming in with her. She nodded, accepted the hug, but didn't take her eyes off the open door. She was so transfixed, that when she finally did look away, her dad was already back in the car behind her, strapping on his seatbelt.

Teddy looked back through the opening. She shouldered her duffle bag, swallowed and took a step inside.