The Pantry Door - Julie Steimle (reading strategies book txt) 📗

to the Gibson kids with. “Wait there. I’ll come down.”

“But wait!” Nissa called.

However, Katy had already turned from the window and pushed open the small door. She practically jumped down onto the spices that stood on the bottom shelf of the cupboard and leapt out into the kitchen. Dashing out the kitchen door and through the back room to the screen door, Katy wrenched the door open and jumped out onto the walk.

“I’m here!” Katy looked around.

Nissa was nowhere on the walk.

“Nissa?”

The girl was not even on the lawn, or the road or even down the street. Either she was hiding or she had really fast legs. Katy kicked the wall to the house and stomped back inside. She had to have been a cousin to the Gibsons. That was a mean prank. Tramping her way back to the cupboard to slam it shut, Katy paused. It was faint, but she could hear it.

“Katy?”

Katy jumped to the kitchen window. No one was outside. She was hearing Nissa, but she could not see her. Was she a ghost?

She heard it again.

“Katy?”

The sound was not coming from outside, but from the cupboard, just like the mysterious breeze that blew the door open. Walking slowly to it again, Katy carefully climbed up the cupboard and into the room. Nissa was still calling her. “Where are you?”

Crawling over the carpet to the window, Katy looked out. Nissa was still down on the back walk. Her face looked particularly nervous.

“Are you a ghost?” Katy asked, peering down at her.

Nissa looked up and shook her head. “No. Of course not.”

Looking down into the yard, Katy blinked at all the familiar things. The gravel road. The painted siding on the side gable. The tree in the yard, full of leaves. The cracked sidewalk. It was all the same—except, looking at it more, things were somewhat different. Katy could not figure out what the difference was, though.

“How come I can’t see you when I went down?” Katy asked her.

Nissa shrugged. “I dunno. How come you are in a widow that was never there before?”

That struck her. Thinking about it now, there was no upper window on her grandfather’s house. Where did this room really come from?

Katy stared down at Nissa. Of all the secrets her grandfather would keep, this was not one she had expected.

The Mystery

 

“Are you all right?” Nissa asked.

Katy felt somewhat dizzy and had leaned on the windowsill. “I don’t know.”

“Can I get you anything?” Nissa called up.

“How can you get it to me? I’m in an upstairs room that doesn’t exist in this house?” It really was too much.

Nissa just shrugged. “I could throw it up, and you could catch it.”

That made Katy smirk. Nissa was not fazed by much. Perhaps she knew more about this phenomenon than Katy did. Perhaps magic and ghosts were a way of life for her.

Katy had to ask, “Does this happen to you a lot?”

Nissa blinked for a moment and tilted her head. “No. Not exactly.”

“What do you mean not exactly?”

With a shrug, Nissa replied, “Well, Dad has some funny friends. You know, weird types. There’s this Mr. Fugit that comes around, and Dad calls him Pop all the time. But he’s not old enough to be my grandfather. And then there is this woman that visits from Europe that kinda flirts with Dad, but it doesn’t bother Mom at all. And Dad spends a lot of time in the grapevines tending them. Sometimes he just hops away on business, and he spends nothing on plane flights, though he brings back stuff from all over the world. He calls them thank-you gifts. My dad’s pretty weird.”

Katy’s eyes stared as wide as they could go as Nissa spoke. They were on Grandpa’s land. They had ended up using her grandpa’s grapes. Was she visiting the future? Was Nissa’s father a wizard or a sorcerer? It sounded crazy, like something from a book she had read.

“Your dad’s nothing like that, huh?” Nissa said, sounding glum, as if having an odd father was a burden.

“Not at all.” Katy shook her head. “My dad’s an accountant.”

“So, how did you get into my parents’ house?” Nissa asked.

Looking around at the secret room, Katy shrugged. “I’m not sure. Magic, I guess.”

Nissa nodded knowingly. “Scary. Isn’t it?”

Katy looked down at her. “Does it scare you?”

There was a pause in the way Nissa stood, mentally debating what to say. There was something incredibly familiar about it. “Not really. But people around here talk. They don’t like things mysterious. They sometimes call me the witch daughter.”

“That’s mean,” Katy said before thinking. “You can’t help who your parents are.”

“I know,” Nissa said, but she frowned. “But they pick on me. And Mom says I have to go to boarding school this next year. She says people will leave me alone there.”

“You mean you’re going away?” Katy felt her heart drop into her knees as she leaned out the window.

Nissa nodded. “Yeah.”

“Not fair. I won’t get to see you again then.” Katy glared at the tree ahead of her as though it were her own mother. “Parents can be so controlling.”

“Tell me about it,” Nissa said, nodding.

Katy looked down. Nissa actually looked like she really did want to know her woes, and wasn’t just saying it to agree. So, with a shrug, Katy said, “My mom sent me to stay with my grandmother because she doesn’t like my friends. She says they’re trouble. But trouble is here too. The Gibsons won’t leave me alone. It’s not fair.”

“Life isn’t.”

But it was another voice. Both girls turned and stared at the man in a nice suit standing on the walk. He grinned at them both as though nothing out of the ordinary was happening.

“Oh, Mr. Fugit.” Nissa relaxed her shoulders and let out deep, relieved sigh. “It’s you. Have you come to see my father?”

“Yes, I have.” The man gave Nissa a nod, winking at Katy. “If you would please go get him, I would much appreciate it.”

Nissa cast Katy a look, but did as she was asked, entering the house through the back door. Katy wondered if she would be able to see Nissa inside if she went down the cupboard hole again, or if she would only exist through the window.

“So, this is clever, Kathleen,” Mr. Fugit said, rocking on his heels as one who had all the time in the world to wile away. “Your grandfather speaks highly of you. Though lately, I hear you have been simply naughty.”

That made Katy lurch forward with a jerk. Her eyes were popping out again. “You know my grandfather?”

Mr. Fugit nodded calmly with a smile on his lips. “Of course. I know him especially among all people. He built this house.”

He did know. How? Katy puzzled. She had never seen this man before. But then perhaps he was very young when her grandfather knew him.

“Kathleen, I think your grandmother is calling you,” he said.

Katy turned, listening for herself. Very faintly she could hear it too. How this man could hear her grandmother’s voice was a mystery. Indeed, Nissa was right. Nissa’s father knew some extremely strange characters.

“Katy!” Her grandmother’s voice called again.

But Katy did not want to go. She wanted to say good-bye to Nissa at least.

“Don’t let her see you climb out of the cupboard,” Mr. Fugit said. But then he grinned wider. Waving to the door below, he crossed the concrete. “Ah! Peter!”

Nissa had run out looking up for Katy. But Katy heard her grandmother’s voice call again, and she knew Mr. Fugit was right. She had to go. She waved to Nissa, and mouthed, “I’ll come back tomorrow.”

Waving also, Nissa smiled and nodded.

Crawling back to the cupboard door, Katy stuck her head in. Her grandmother was calling for her outside. That was why her voice was faint. Making haste and trying to be careful not to knock spices and boxes off the shelves, Katy climbed back down, slipping out of the cupboard and resting her feet onto the linoleum. That was when she noticed that she was wearing only one shoe. The other was just her dirty sock.

“Katy!” Grandmother Schmidt shouted from the porch out into the yard.

Taking a step in that direction, Katy sighed. Things were just getting interesting.

“I’m here, Grandma, what did you want?” Katy stepped into the doorway.

Turning around with a start, her grandmother grabbed her own chest. “Don’t sneak up on an old woman like that. You could give me a heart attack.”

Katy only looked the other way.

“Where have you been?” her grandmother asked. She looked more than flustered. “For heaven sakes. I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

Katy lied. “I was downstairs, taking a nap. I didn’t hear you.”

“I was just downstairs, young lady. You were not there.” Already her grandmother’s hands were on her hips.

“Fine, I was upstairs. So what? Who cares where I was? What do you want?” Katy snapped.

Her grandmother looked immediately exhausted. “What do I want? Kathleen, I want you to grow up a normal, healthy girl. Not a liar or a thief. Our house does not have an upstairs.”

Katy blinked, taken aback somewhat. Of course it didn’t. The room was magic. That place had to have been somewhere else entirely.

Turing away, Katy said, “So. What is it you want now?”

Closing her eyes, Grandma Schmidt said, “I thought you were hungry. You weren’t here for lunch. I thought we’d drive into Fillmore and get some hamburgers.”

That was not what Katy had expected. She was sure she was going to miss lunch too.

Of course the graham crackers had not been enough and Katy felt her stomach gurgle. Clenching it, she blushed. Breaking out into a smile, she nodded. “Yes, I am hungry.”

Grandma Schmidt smiled. “Then come on. Head to the car.”

Katy lifted up her sock foot with a grimace. “I lost a shoe.”

Her grandmother pulled out Katy’s shoe from her work apron. “You left it in the garden.”

Katy felt sheepish. Ducking her head, she bent over to shake the dirt off her sock and put her shoe back on. As soon as she had her laces tied, she hopped up and joined her grandmother at the door. She wasn’t going to starve. This wasn’t going to be torture after all.

They headed out to the car, opening the old barn door where they used to keep the tractor. Katy looked back once at the house. There was no upper room. There was no space for one. And there definitely was no window.

*

Katy had never really done anything with just her grandmother. Whenever her family visited, she had always paired off with Grandpa Schmidt. It was like he was waiting for her, like he needed her to accompany him on his little walks. He used to say that she was his buddy while he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, gave her hugs, and whispered secrets of a musician who desperately loved to make music. That was how she saw Grandpa. It was strange sitting with just her grandmother, looking at her as she sat on the old fifties-style fast food burger stool. She sat with her elbows on the bar watching the boy in the paper hat making malteds for the few customers that came in. She looked lonely too.

“I think it’s odd that you are having trouble