Miles

  Miles

  The House of Bannerman, book 1

  by Melissa R. L. Simonin

  © 2014

  Miles

  The House of Bannerman, book 1

  written by Melissa R. L. Simonin

  copyright 2014 by Melissa R. L. Simonin

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in a retrieval system, in whole or in part in any manner or in any form without the written permission of the author.

  Dedicated to…

  Mom, for all of the support and encouragement and hours upon hours of proof-reading you’ve spent on “Miles;” to Dad, for your feedback and encouragement; to my husband, Brad, who has been very understanding of the late hours spent by this writer and at being woke up in the middle of the night and expected to listen and answer “how does this sound?” and to my daughter, Emily.

  This book is also dedicated to Chip, my own chocolate Lab pal, dearly loved and dearly missed in spite of the many years that have passed. May you live on in the pages of Miles.

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 1

  I moved silently through the kitchen, avoiding the creaking floorboard. It was my first chance to explore since moving here a week ago, and if I could get out the door before a certain three-year-old woke up, I’d be in the clear. I love my little brother all to pieces, but sometimes Tryon could be a little trying, if I had somewhere else to be, and he woke up before Mom.

  As I filled a sandwich bag with a handful of baby carrots, my chocolate Lab pal, Chip, lightly wagged his baseball bat of a tail. I cringed at the thought of the drum-like effect it would have on the cabinet if he wagged any harder. Keep the enthusiasm down boy, we’re almost out of here!

  Grabbing the sack lunch I put together the night before, I passed the kitchen island. Slipping the bag into my backpack, I palmed my Anika emblazoned key ring, gave Chip’s glossy forehead a quick rub, motioned for him to follow me out the backdoor, then closed it carefully behind us.

  I stifled the urge to cheer as I locked the door. I zipped my keys inside my pack, and slipped my arms through the straps.

  The few clouds in the sky glowed pink and orange, as the sun rose and touched them with light. The faint breeze held a definite nip, but it was nothing my light jacket and a little exercise couldn’t handle.

  “You can shake, now. No one will hear you,” I said. Chip shook violently, and smiled his toothy grin.

  I smiled back, then gave our surroundings a look as we stepped off the porch, and crossed the brief clearing that housed the small cabin.

  Trees grew thick all around, and as far as the eye could see, following the curve of the hills, and climbing along with the mountains. Scattered amongst the predominant evergreens, the leaves of the deciduous trees were mostly tinted in shades of orange and gold, though a few were veined brilliantly in red. As we disappeared into the woods behind the cabin, I breathed in the scent of pine, changing leaves, and damp earth. It felt indescribably good to soak in the clean mountain air, and look forward to a day without worry and responsibility. Some of the stress accumulated over the past year, slowly began to melt away.

  When Dad lost his job, it was a complete shock. After working at the same company for over twenty years, we assumed he would stay put until he retired. Instead, his entire team was laid off. Some say misery loves company, but it didn’t make our misery less miserable.

  In the city where we lived, there were no jobs available that matched Dad’s field of expertise, and the poor economy meant few opportunities elsewhere, as well. Dad qualified for unemployment which was something, and I kept the part-time job I’d had since my junior year in high school. It still wasn’t enough to handle the mortgage payment, and everything else we needed.

  We would have said “at least we have our health” and been glad of it, if it were true. But it wasn’t, adding to the emotional and financial strain. We cut back in every way possible, and put off my college plans. The money just wasn’t there for it, anymore. It was kind of an odd feeling to realize the friends I graduated with, started their first semester last month.

  Dad’s brother, my Uncle Mark, was convinced Dad should come work for him, at his software company. It meant moving to Glen Haven, an urban area with a high cost of living, and Dad wasn’t sure working for his brother was such a good idea, either. But a year later and at the end of our rope, it sounded just pretty good.

  In spite of that, the high cost of living meant we couldn’t afford to live in Glen Haven until we were back on our feet, which wasn’t going to happen unless Dad had a job, which he couldn’t get unless we moved, which we couldn’t afford to do, unless Dad had a job…

  Uncle Mark thought of everything, and came up with a solution to that problem, too. Until we can afford to do otherwise, Dad is staying with Uncle Mark at his apartment in Glen Haven during the week, while the rest of our family lives in Uncle Mark’s cabin, about an hour and a half away. It’s close enough so Dad can spend the weekends with us, and close enough so we can drive into the city to see specialists, too. Glen Haven has a lot more doctors to choose from than where we used to live, which is encouraging. It’s lousy that our family is separated part of the time, but it’s loads better than the way it was. And it isn’t forever.

  The first week at the cabin was all about unpacking and running errands. But now everyone was settled in, Mom didn’t need me today, and I was free to explore.

  A frog croaked beside the stream that wound through the forest. Song birds sang exuberantly, and a bee buzzed from one wild flower to the next.

  I couldn’t get over how beautiful the day was. Squirrels leaped fearlessly from tree to tree, doing crazy acrobatics, and the birds continued their singing. The shallow stream tumbled over stones as it made its way past us, making its own music. Nose to the ground, Chip made short excursions to examine shrubs and trees that he found particularly interesting. I walked along slowly, pausing now and then to appreciate the beauty that surrounded us, and to allow Chip to take as much time as he wanted to investigate. We didn’t have anywhere we had to be, and this day was too exquisite to rush through.

  The angry sound of my stomach reminded me it was long past breakfast. Whistling for Chip, I looked for a good place to sit and eat. Instead, I spied a small stone bridge. It was only a little further down the path. I decided I was more curious, than hungry.

  The bridge was a work of art and clever engineering, each carefully crafted stone fitting snugly in place. I ran my hand along the railing, admiring the work that must have gone into building this.

  I felt an indentation in the cool surface of the stone, and had a closer look. M.D.B, June 30, 1869 was carved on one rail.

  “Unbelievable,” I said in awe.

  One-hundred and forty-five years old, and still providing safe passage across the stream. Beyond the bridge, a path led into the woods.

  “This is way more interesting than lunch,” I decided. “Come on, buddy. We have to investigate this!”

  I stepped onto the stone bridge, and Chip followed.

  “It’s fortunate for you this is here,” I commented to Chip, as we crossed over the stream. “Since no one’s ever convinced you that Labs are wa
ter dogs, you’d probably tell me to take a hike by myself, if following meant getting your feet wet.”

  Remembering his reaction the last time I gave him a bath, I laughed.

  Chip’s only response was another smile. He was having a blast, exploring. Moving here certainly suited him just fine. I ruffled the fur on his back, and was thankful I still had him. I remembered with gratitude that when we lost our house, my parents didn’t decide life would be easier if we no longer had a dog, either. Considering the neighborhood we relocated to at that time, Mom and Dad were probably glad to have Chip for the protection.

  Life today, was certainly an improvement over life two weeks ago.

  As we followed the path, the forest around us thickened. Intermixed with the pine, towered oak trees, their reddening leaves in vivid contrast to the surrounding forest. Their limbs arched overhead, blocking the sun. The occasional cry of a bird sifting through the leaves, and the pad of Chip’s paws, were the only sounds.

  The path was once cobbled, although many of the stones were now missing. The further we walked the more stones remained intact, until at last the path became whole.

  It must lead to something worthy of the bridge and cobbled path, why else would someone take the time and effort to build either one?

  I walked faster. I wanted to see what was at the end of this! Chip hurried to keep up.

  Leaving the shelter of the forest, we found ourselves standing at the edge of a garden.

  Late blooming roses and a wide variety of flowering plants and shrubs, grew unhindered. Vines crept over the iron-work tables, chairs, and statues, and a shower of morning glories draped the ornate fountain. What must have been a beautiful lawn at one time, was now overrun with dandelions and weeds.

  But that, was not what held me rooted to the spot with my mouth hanging open.

  In the center of the spacious garden stood a towering stone mansion. Turrets jutted from the sharply slanted roof, and tucked in its many gables, were windows of various shapes and sizes. Round towers pointed to the heavens, with their cone shaped caps. The castle-like estate was four stories high, judging from the windows. On each side of the main structure stretched an additional wing, with towers spaced evenly along its walls. Filling the space between each tower, was a row of decorative stone which resembled saw tooth battlements.

  I stared in astonishment. The size of the structure was stunning, in addition to everything else about it. There were hospitals that weren’t this big.

  “Wow, now that is worthy of the stone bridge and cobbled path!”

  Chip stood beside me, more interested in the garden, than the humongous castle that I couldn’t take my eyes off of.

  I had no idea such a thing existed in this country, much less right here, practically next door to Uncle Mark’s cabin! Does he know about this?

  A freezing blast of wind destroyed the gentle breeze. It hit with such force, I struggled to keep my balance. I looked up at the sky for the first time since crossing the bridge.

  A black cloud moved toward us rapidly, blotting out the sun, and plunging everything beneath it into darkness. The castle towers rose in sharp contrast to the rapidly darkening sky. Lightning flashed, briefly illuminating the green-tinged clouds from within, and thunder rumbled ominously.

  “This was not in the forecast!” I exclaimed indignantly, as if that declaration would bring back the blue sky, and send the interloping storm packing. Chip whined softly.

  My mind raced, searching for shelter, and coming up with nothing. We’d never outrun this, and taking the path through the trees would be about as smart as traveling between two rows of lightning rods. The estate looked abandoned, but I wouldn’t seek shelter there, even if it wasn’t. Where I come from, entering the house of a stranger is risky, no matter how amazing the house looks on the outside.

  A streak of lightning and deafening blast of thunder warned me I better quit thinking, and do something. Looking apprehensively at the castle, I blinked in surprise. Was… that a curtain falling back into place, in one of the upstairs windows?

  I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the frigid wind.

  Icy raindrops began to pelt the ground, and I turned to discover that non-water-dog Chip was already halfway to the castle, and a vestibule protected side entrance. The way the wind was whipping every which way, that vestibule wouldn’t give much protection from the rain, but it could prevent us from being badly injured if the storm brought hail with it. I hurried after him.

  Running was hazardous, at best, but there wasn’t time to pick my way carefully across the uneven, overgrown yard. A glance at the sky convinced me to take my chances, take the direct route, and hurdle obstacles as I came to them. A raised flowerbed, a poured concrete bench, an overturned birdbath of massive proportions, and I was almost there. Ahead loomed a mass of tangled vines, and with a flying leap, I soared over it.

  I started to congratulate myself on making it to the other side, but with a loud crack and the sound of splintering wood, the surface beneath me shifted. I fell forward with a gasp, reaching out frantically in search of anything to grab hold of, as it completely gave way. My fingers came in contact with stone, and I latched on, my heart pounding as gravity exerted almost unbearable pressure on my shoulders and hands, nearly breaking my hold. Below me was a sickening thud, and the sound of shattering.

  Note to self, always look before you leap! I hope I live long enough to follow that very good advice, in the future.

  I struggled to get a better grip, and with a stranglehold on the stone ledge, I fought to pull myself up. My arms shook with the effort, as my legs swung helplessly in the open space that surrounded me. I gasped for breath, my hands cramping, as gravity’s pull overcame my strength. My fingers slipped on the rain dampened stone, and I cried out, as my hold slowly gave way.

  The tears of desperation turned to tears of relief, when much to my surprise, I didn’t fall after all. Instead of empty space beneath me, my feet made contact with a solid surface.

  I had no idea how I managed to miss that before, but better late, than shattered at the bottom of this pit along with whatever it was that collapsed out from under me. I took a few deep breaths as I rubbed my aching arms, then once again gripped the ledge. The crash of thunder warned me I didn’t have time to spare. I braced my feet against the vertical surface that I also somehow neglected to discover earlier, and managed to pull myself up. I got one elbow over the ledge, then the other, and with one last heave, I scrambled out of the hole and collapsed beside it.

  My muscles burned like fire, and I shook uncontrollably from the effort. I lay on the ground a moment, struggling to catch my breath and gather my scattered wits. Chip abandoned his run for shelter, and pressed against me, whining softly.

  “It’s okay, it’s alright,” I said as much to myself, as to Chip. I wiped the tears and blinding rain out of my eyes, and looked beside me at the hole in the earth where the ground gave way.

  “This could be the entrance to a cellar…”

  I pulled back the morning glory vines with arms that were almost too weak to do so, revealing a gaping doorway into the ground. The rain came faster, huge drops pounding the earth. We found the stairs at the same time, and hurried down.

  I didn’t like leaving the opening uncovered with the storm raging, but the door was lying in fragments at the foot of the stairs, and there was nothing I could do about that. It was a relief to see the wood was rotten, though. It would not be a self-confidence booster to think I broke through a perfectly good door!

  We reached the base of the stairs as the sky was torn with lightning, and rain drowned the earth.

  We hurried further away from the open doorway, and what little light was left. The pitch-black darkness, chill air, and musty smell, reminded me of a cave. I slipped off my backpack and felt around for the flashlight I kept there, just in case. Because you never know. Obviously! Finding it, I panned the flashlight in a circle, weakly illuminating my surroundings with its beam.
>
  Assorted gardening tools lined one wall. Bags of potting soil, topsoil, sand, and various types of fertilizers of recognizable brand, were stacked in orderly rows beside them. The refrigerator and upright freezer were further proof that despite the seriously neglected grounds and rotten door, someone was here in recent years.

  The thunder was so loud it was hard to hear anything else, and the wind howled through the open doorway, bringing rain with it. I moved to a dry corner and sat on the cold floor, rubbing my aching muscles. For the first time, I was thankful for what Mom kindly refers to as my trim athletic build. If I was more abundantly blessed in the curve department, I never could’ve pulled myself back out of the cellar.

  I pointed the flashlight at the open doorway, and frowned a little. The beam of light revealed nothing but empty space between it and the floor.

  I was confused. When my fingers slipped, what did I land on? It wasn’t the stairs, they were set back from that end of the opening. My feet were definitely supported as I lost my grip on the ledge, though...

  I shone the light at the stairs again. I wanted to figure this out. I didn’t care, when I was clutching that ledge for dear life, but now I did.

  I spent several minutes puzzling and searching for a solution, then Chip moved into my line of sight, and sat down in front of me with a hopeful look.

  “I’ll bet you’re hungry, aren’t you?” I said loudly. I practically had to shout, to hear myself over the storm.

  Chip tap danced in place, then sat waiting patiently to be served, as I took his collapsible bowl and a Ziploc bag of dry dog food from my backpack.

  I set Chip’s dinner in front of him, and opened my sack lunch. In spite of my near-death experience, I was hungry, too.

  We ate, listening to the wail of the wind and the pounding rain. I tossed my apple core to Chip. He finished it off, then sat and looked at me expectantly.

  “No carrots right now bud, we’ll save those for later. Who knows how long this storm will last.”