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August 1960
Sherman Pines had always been a bright young man – perhaps not to the level of his six-fingered little brother, but he’d never really struggled in school. As such, it was no great surprise when he announced that he had gotten a scholarship to a decent college in Maine. It was no West Coast Tech, but it was still something.
His newly eight-year-old brothers had taken the news that their big brother was leaving in their own unique ways. Ford wanted to know everything about the college admissions process, if there was a science program at Longfellow University (even though Shermie was an English major and the school was named after a writer), about the different types of scholarships the school offered. On the other hand, Lee hadn’t spoken more than five sentences a day to Shermie since the oldest Pines brother had committed to LU, and most of those sentences involved some form of calling his brother a nerd.
Caryn was infinitely proud of her son, whereas Filbrick had sneered when Shermie had declared that he wanted to study literature, of all the godforsaken unprofitable things. He had called him a pansy and stated that when Shermie couldn’t find a job, he would absolutely not be offering him one at the pawn shop. It hardly came as a shock, and so the eighteen-year-old had simply nodded along as his father belittled his past, present, and future life choices. Filbrick would never be pleased with him, and that was just fine.
On August 18th, Shermie was almost ready to leave. His car was packed but for one bag, and he only needed a few more things.
Shermie finished neatly folding a green crewneck sweatshirt and was just about to place it in his open suitcase when he heard a crash from downstairs, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps and muffled yelling. He tossed the shirt to the side and rushed downstairs, entering the kitchen just in time to see Lee fall backwards. The younger boy held his cheek with watery eyes, looking up at their father in shock. Ford rushed to his side, but Lee pushed him away.
“You gonna cry, Stanley? I’ll give you something to cry about,” Filbrick said, his hand going to his belt. He hadn’t even touched the buckle when Sherman’s right hand made contact with his jaw.
The twins looked up at their brother, wide-eyed. “Get your things and go outside,” Shermie growled, not taking his eyes off his father. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Where do you think you’re going, Sherman?”
“Was that the first time?” Shermie demanded. Without waiting for a response, he backed Filbrick into the kitchen counter. “Have you hit him before?”
“The boy needs to be toughened up.”
“He’s eight, Pop. He still has most of his baby teeth.”
“I waited too long with you, and look how that turned out.” Filbrick drew up to his full height, not shaken by his son’s steady glare.
Shermie shook his head in disbelief. “I’m not letting you do this to him, Pop. I’m taking the twins and getting the hell out of here. Don’t expect to hear from me again.” He left the house before his father could follow him. By the time Filbrick reached the front door, Shermie was in the driver’s seat of the car with the twins in the back. He turned the key in the ignition and just drove.
It took about twenty minutes for the twins to start asking questions. Ever inquisitive, Ford broke the silence.
“Are we ever going back?”
“No. I’m not letting you anywhere near Filbrick again.”
“What about Ma?” Lee asked hesitantly. Shermie glanced in the rearview mirror at the red mark on his baby brother’s face. It took all of his focus not to swerve when he saw the small cut on his round cheek.
“Did he hit you with his ring on?” Shermie asked, disbelieving.
“Y-yeah.”
The eldest brother sighed. “We’ll stop and get that patched up once we get on the parkway, okay?”
“Is Pop a…”
Shermie didn’t look back, but he could tell Ford was fidgeting with his hands as he searched for the right words.
“Is he a bad person?” Lee asked, finishing his twin’s thought after a few seconds of silence.
He wanted to lie. He’d never wanted to lie more in his life. “I…I don’t know, kiddo. I wish I could say he isn’t, but good people don’t hurt their kids. I’m sorry, Lee.”
The car remained silent until Shermie pulled into a rest stop on the parkway. The stop was just a dirt parking lot with a small building, and there was only one other car in the lot. All three Pines brothers walked into the building, which appeared to just be a water fountain, a payphone, and bathrooms. Shermie motioned for his brothers to enter the men’s room.
“You got a band-aid on you, Lee?”
The eight-year-old wordlessly pulled one out of his shorts pocket and offered it up to his brother, grinning slightly. “Sixer always makes me keep one, just in case.”
“If you’re going to pick fights with Crampelter, you need to,” Ford muttered.
“Hey!”
Shermie just smiled, running a paper towel under the tap with a squirt of soap and kneeling to gently wipe at his brother’s face. To Lee’s credit, he only winced a little bit at the sting.
“Hang on…” Shermie unwrapped the band-aid and smoothed it down over the small cut. He stood up. “Okay. Now, I don’t care whether or not you knuckleheads think you need the bathroom, use it now. I’m not stopping for a good few hours, and neither of you want to go in the bushes, got it?”
While he waited for his brothers to finish up, Shermie stuck a dime into the payphone and dialed his mother’s psychic service.
“Ma?” he asked before Caryn could start her spiel. There was silence for a moment.
“Sherman?”
“Hey, Ma. I’ve got the twins, we’re safe. Is Pop around?”
“He’s in the shop,” Caryn said. “What happened, Sherman? What did the son of a – what did he do?”
Shermie debated for a moment on how much to tell his mother.
“I’ll know if you’re lying to me.”
“Ma, you’re not actually a psychic.” Shermie rolled his eyes. Behind him, the bathroom door swung open and the twins stood silently.
“Maybe. But I’m still your mother. Try me.”
“He hurt Stanley,” the young man said simply.
As if it was instinct, Caryn quickly muttered, “I knew you were gonna say that.”
Despite all that had happened in just the last hour, Shermie couldn’t hold back a short laugh. “The boys are here, Ma. You wanna talk to ‘em?”
“Sure, but hang on. Where are you taking them? That school of yours won’t let you keep them in your room, you know that, right?”
“I know. I’ll figure it out, I just… I can’t let them stay with Pop. I’m sorry. I’ll get them all registered for school up here, can you send me their stuff? Birth certificates, clothes, anything?”
After a brief pause, he heard a sigh. “Yeah. Take care of them, Shermie. I’ll come see you when I can. Now, let me talk to my boys.”
“Love you too,” Shermie said, handing the phone to Lee.
What was he gonna do?
When the boys reached the school nearly ten hours and three rest stops later, Shermie parked a block away from the school. He rested his head against the steering wheel for a moment – at least, meant for it to only be a moment. According to his watch, it was ten minutes before he lifted his head to look at the twins in the back, who had been sleeping on each other for the last hour and a half.
“Okay, Sherman. It’ll be fine. You just need to get an apartment and job to support yourself plus two eight-year-olds, and to go to school, and maintain your GPA so you don’t lose that scholarship. No big deal.” He looked around for a spark of inspiration before his gaze fell on a telephone pole with a poster.
HELP WANTED – PART TIME CAREGIVER.
He opened the door and took the poster down, staring at it. Huh.
“Okay.”
Shermie knocked on the door to the Avery mansion. Apparently, there were some rather wealthy people in the town surrounding the university – at the very least, there was one family rich enough to have a circular driveway with an honest-to-Moses fountain in the shape of a mermaid.
He marveled slightly at the door knocker, which might have been made of real gold. His closer inspection was interrupted when the door swung open to reveal a frazzled looking woman in her late twenties or early thirties. A wail was emanating from inside the house.
“Um,” he began after it became clear that the woman was waiting for him to introduce himself. “I’m here about the… nanny position?” If Filbrick could see him now…
“Slava bogu,” she murmured under her breath in what Shermie vaguely recognized as the Russian his mother sometimes cursed in when she had realized her boys already knew all of the Yiddish curses. “Come in, please.” She ushered him through the foyer and into a sitting room. It was clear from the couch, walls, rug, and even baby grand piano that the room was usually pure white, but it almost looked as if a small tornado had swept through the room, sending blankets, toys, and Happy-O’s flying onto every available surface. Being a relatively intelligent individual, Shermie made an educated guess that whatever caused the mess was the same small child that seemed to be doing their best impression of a teakettle at the moment.
“Are you Mrs. Avery?” Shermie asked cautiously, taking a seat on the couch.
“Me? Oh, no. Mrs. Avery passed away last year, and her poor husband doesn’t quite know what to do with himself now. As for the children, well…” She gestured to the room, wincing as the piercing wail somehow intensified. “They used to be better behaved, I assure you,” she said.
Shermie just nodded. “I… understand. Who’s taking care of them now?”
“Their last au pair gave her two week notice ten days ago. We’ve been interviewing, but people keep getting—” Another scream joined the first. “Scared off.” She sighed. “I apologize. My name is Irina, the housekeeper. You are…?”
“Oh, right. Sherman Pines,” he said, extending a hand for her to shake. “I’m starting school at Longfellow University next week.”
“This is fine. The children will be in school during the day, so we just need someone for early mornings, afternoons and weekends. This works for you, yes?”
“In school? How old are they?” asked Shermie.
“The children are six,” said Irina. “They are… the two of them, same age?” She searched for the word.
“Twins?” Shermie raised a brow.
“Yes, that. This is why no one stays, you see. Will that be a problem?”
“Not at all. My little brothers are twins, I’m used to it. Actually, would I be able to bring them here?”
“Your brothers, they are with you now?”
“I’m taking care of them, yes,” he said evasively, not wanting to mention that he had left the twins to wait in the car. They’d be fine, the windows were open.
“Do you have any other experience with children?”
“Sure,” Shermie said. He had tutored elementary schoolers, it wasn’t a total lie.
“And you would be able to drive them from school?”
“That shouldn’t be a problem. Do you need to know anything else?”
A part of Shermie had decided to take the job the second Irina mentioned twins, though he would leave that part out when recounting the interview to his brothers. Could it even be counted as an interview if the interviewer was so obviously desperate for the position to be filled?
“Can you start on Monday?”
Very desperate.
“No way. You’re actually gonna work there?”
Lee sat on the edge of the cheap motel bed, swinging his legs.
“We sure are. I still need to meet with the dad, but it kind of seems like a done deal,” Shermie said.
Ford emerged from the bathroom, still with a spot of toothpaste on his face. “What about school?”
“Hey, don’t worry about that,” Shermie said, kneeling to place a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “As soon as Ma sends your documents up here, I’ll get you guys registered and you’ll be good to go.”
“No, not for us. What about your school?”
Shermie tilted his head. “Come again, kiddo?”
“Yeah, Sixer’s right. When are you gonna have time for all of your nerd stuff if you’re takin’ care of some rich guy’s kids?”
The oldest brother thought to himself that he had given up on having time for extracurriculars that morning when he sent the twins to the car, but he didn’t voice that thought. “It’s just two kids, how hard could it be?”
In Shermie’s defense, he really needed the job.
“Yes, sir, I’ve had plenty of experience working with children. I’m trained in CPR—” He had seen one of the lifeguards at the beach do CPR once. “—I worked in daycare during high school—” Technically, besides tutoring, he was in charge of the twins for a few hours a week when Caryn went out and Filbrick managed the shop. “—and I have two brothers who are eight.” Okay, at least that was true.
The man sitting across the desk from Shermie leaned forward. “They’re… both eight, you say?”
Shermie barely hid his smile. “Yes, sir. Twins. I understand you’re having trouble finding someone with the… patience for twins?”
Joseph Avery exhaled slowly. “That’s an understatement, Mr. Pines. It’s been hard for all of us since Cheryl passed—Irina told you about that, I presume?” When Shermie nodded, Mr. Avery continued. “Yes. Well. They’ve had an especially difficult time, and I do wish I could be more present but a private aircraft empire doesn’t run itself.”
Shermie was pretty sure he could hear coins (shillings?) clinking in Mr. Avery’s low, rumbling chuckle. The eighteen-year-old lower middle class boy from Jersey smiled politely.
“Before we settle on anything for certain, would you like to meet the children?”
“That would be great, sir.”
Mr. Avery motioned for Shermie to stand and led him out of his oak-paneled home office and down a long hallway. Shermie wasn’t exactly short, he was exactly 6 foot thank you very much (he was 5’11”), but he felt absolutely dwarfed by the six-foot-six man who walked slightly in front of him.
He had never heard the name Joseph Daniel Avery before coming to the small college town of East Burgess, Maine, but after asking around that morning, it was clear that the man had a decent reputation. He donated to all of the local schools, including Longfellow U, he helped to found and fund a local homeless shelter, and he always tipped well at the local diner. It seemed that Shermie had accidentally stumbled into possibly the best job he could hope to find, maybe in his whole life.
“Abigail? Wyatt?” The massively tall man had to duck to enter his children’s playroom, which was about the size of the entire pawn shop. Shermie followed behind Mr. Avery, glancing around. There was a door on either side of the room, each decorated with the name of one of the twins.
A little girl with light brown hair and a yellow jumper was playing with a red airplane next to one of the floor length windows. Her Bonnie doll tumbled out of the cockpit as she whipped around at the sound of her father’s voice. “Daddy!” She ran towards her father but stopped when she saw Shermie. “Who’s this?”
“This is Mr. Sherman, sweetie. He’s going to be taking care of you and Wyatt when Miss Kate goes to her new job.”
“Oh.” The six-year-old looked a little confused, turning to look at her dad. “He’s a boy.”
“I sure am,” Shermie said, kneeling to Abigail’s level. “It’s very nice to meet you. I’m Shermie, and you must be Abigail, right?”
“Yes.” She looked down at the floor and shoved her hands in her pockets. “I’m gonna keep playing now.”
Shermie stood back up as the little girl ran back to her toys. “She doesn’t like new people much, huh?”
“She’ll warm up eventually,” said Mr. Avery, sighing. “I’ll get Wyatt.” He crossed to the left side of the room, where the green paint on the door proclaimed it to be Wyatt’s Room.
“Hello, Miss Kate. How’ve they been today?” asked Mr. Avery as he entered the room. Shermie trailed behind him and nodded politely at the young woman who sat at the foot of a child-sized bed next to a red-faced blonde boy. There were tear tracks down his cheeks and he was sniffling, but the woman simply raised a brow at him.
“Wyatt got upset because he found out that mammoths are extinct, and Abigail had a meltdown because her fork was too cold. All in all, trivial concerns, nothing unusual,” Miss Kate said, getting up. When she glanced behind her boss and saw Shermie, her eyes widened. “Are you my replacement?”
“I certainly hope to be,” he said.
“You hope?” Mr. Avery interrupted, looking down at Shermie incredulously. “Abigail didn’t run away screaming when she met you. You’re hired.”
“Oh. Oh! Thank you,” said Shermie. “I guess I am your replacement, yes.”
“They’re really not as bad as—” she hurried to say, obviously not wanting to scare off the new hire.
“Nah, it’s fine. Kids are rough, but they’re not gonna scare me off that easily.” Shermie smiled at the little boy, who was looking up at him with watery brown eyes. “Hi. Are you Wyatt?”
Wyatt nodded. “Are you the new Miss Kate?”
“Well, I can’t promise that I’ll be just like Miss Kate,” Shermie began, moving closer but stopping when Wyatt backed away, just the slightest amount. “-but I’ll be taking care of you and your sister. I’m Shermie.”
“Well, I wish you luck with these two,” the young woman interjected. “You’ll need all the help you can get.”
Shermie’s mind went immediately to his youngest brother. “I don’t know that I’d say that in front of them, miss. They’re six, they aren’t stupid.”
Both Mr. Avery and Kate looked surprised, but while the soon-to-be-former nanny’s surprise was more than a little annoyed, Mr. Avery looked appreciative. “Thank you, Mr. Sherman. Yes, Katherine, please mind how you refer to my children. I think I speak for everyone here when I say that Monday will be a welcome change. Sherman, follow me back to my office, please?”
Shermie followed obediently. As he walked, he mentioned, “Only my parents call me Sherman. I’d really prefer to be called Shermie, if that’s alright.”
“Then I insist you call me Joseph, my boy,” said the millionaire casually, ushering Shermie into the office. He patted Shermie on the shoulder and walked around to retrieve something from his desk drawer. “Now, you mentioned your brothers to me, and Irina actually said something about them living with you, is that right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Might I ask why that is, Shermie?”
The eighteen-year-old stiffened. Joseph seemed to notice, and his face softened. “Are your parents not in the picture?”
“They’re both alive, but the twins… I mean. It wasn’t the best… My dad…” Shermie stumbled over his words, barely noticing as Mr. Avery came back around and placed a hand on Shermie’s back.
“I understand. I myself never had siblings, but I left home when I went to school and never looked back. Whatever the situation, I think it’s admirable that you’re taking care of your brothers. Here. I want you to have this.” The man closed Shermie’s hand around a piece of paper. Shermie looked down and carefully unfolded a check for—well, for more money than Shermie had ever seen in one place, enough to get an apartment with separate rooms for the twins. Not a lot by many people’s standards, but even so…
“Sir, I can’t possibly take this.” He attempted to place the check back into Mr. Avery’s hand, but Joseph refused.
“Consider it your bonus. I won’t have any employee of mine living out of a motel,” he said seriously.
“But this is—”
“I’d give you more if I thought you wouldn’t throw it into my fireplace right now. Now, I want you to take that and go into town to the realtor and ask for Dave Gordon, he’ll give you a good deal on a house.”
“A house? Mr. Avery—”
“You’re taking it and that’s final, my boy. I think you’ll be a good fit for the children—oh, and feel free to bring your brothers over here whenever you want. I mean it, just because you’re looking after my kids doesn’t mean yours should be alone.”
Shermie had to admit that as cheesy as it was, he felt a warmth in his heart when Joseph called the twins his kids. He nodded slowly. “Thank you, sir. I’ll be here on Monday.”
“I expect you to be!” said Joseph cheerfully. “Let me walk you out.”
As Shermie walked back to his car, making polite conversation with his new boss, he couldn’t help but feel like for once, everything was coming together perfectly.
“What about a pool? Can our house have a pool?” Lee asked. Shermie laughed, shaking his head and turning out of the motel parking lot.
“Again, it’s between a few small houses. Nicer than the apartment back home, but still nothin’ fancy,” he said. “This is already incredibly generous of Mr. Avery, and the realtor—real estate agent? Ford, do you know the difference?” When Ford just shrugged, Shermie continued, “Anyway, Mr. Gordon is giving us a really good deal. I need you two to behave, okay?”
“Okay,” said Ford, leaning to look out the window as they drove into the center of town.
“That means no looking for secret passages, Stanford.”
“What? But there could be any number of—”
“I’m serious, Ford. And no ghost hunts, werewolf traps, or vampire expeditions either, I don’t care how haunted the house looks. I don’t need you to fall through another da—” Shermie held back the curse on his toungue, “—rotten floorboard, got it? We’ve been here for two days, that’s way too soon for an ER visit.”
Ford pouted, crossing his arms. “Lee was with me at the old Waylon place, it’s not my fault he made me go across first.”
Shermie groaned and shifted gears to park in front of the realtor/real estate agent’s office/agency. “And I don’t want you getting in trouble, either, Lee. That includes daring Ford to get in trouble, as if he needs any help with that.”
“Hey!” Both boys glared at Shermie, but he just eased the car back into the spot.
“When we actually buy the place, you have my full permission to go on as many wild ghoul chases as you want, but right now I really need you to…” He couldn’t believe what he was about to say, but he continued, “…to be on your best behavior.” All three Pines boys made a face, hearing those words come out of Shermie’s mouth.
“Okay, Ma,” said Stanley.
“Hilarious,” Shermie said as both twins giggled. “Alright, you little gremlins, let’s go.” He walked with one twin on either side into the… real estate place? He really needed to figure out the difference at some point.
Shermie hadn’t expected buying a house to be so… boring. Logically, he knew that it was mostly a bunch of signing papers and reading other papers, but he kind of just wanted to get to the having-a-house part. Luckily for him, Lee spoke up before Shermie lost his mind from the tedium.
“When do we get to look at cool houses?”
Mr. Gordon, who was apparently a realtor (Shermie still had no clue what the difference was), looked up from his stack of files. He appeared to take pity on the three boys.
“Why don’t you young men follow me?”
The first house Mr. Gordon showed the Pines boys was a two story house close to the center of town. It was a weathered white, with green shutters and a small patch of lawn. Shermie’s first thought was that it was quite literally the blandest looking house he had ever seen in his life, and coming from a kid from Jersey, that meant something. Evidently, the twins thought so too, as Ford looked immediately disappointed in the mundane appearance and Lee wrinkled his nose at the literal white picket fence.
“Look on the bright side, maybe someone got murdered in there,” Lee said to Ford as they followed Mr. Gordon into the sitting room.
The realtor evidently heard the comment, raising a brow but not commenting. “Through here, you may notice there’s actually a half bathroom located off the kitchen…”
The next two houses were very similar in their lack of flair. Shermie almost felt bad for not liking them, since they were still nicer than anything he would’ve been able to afford before getting hired by Mr. Avery. The fourth house was a little further out, although Mr. Avery assured them that it was still well within walking distance to East Burgess Elementary. Shermie had just shrugged and got in the car to follow the realtor.
As they got further from the center of town, the houses grew further apart and the trees became taller and denser. It took about ten minutes to get to the house, and as they approached it, Shermie grew concerned that he had miscommunicated his budget. The house was closer to a cottage, with a dirt driveway and window boxes and a garage that wasn’t attached to the house. It just seemed too… pretty to be affordable. He unlocked the car and let the twins get out, waiting a moment before following them through the rounded bright blue wooden door.
The living room was small and cozy, with built-in bookshelves surrounding a stone fireplace. Shermie laughed, seeing Ford’s eyes go wide with the thought of all of the books that would fit on those shelves. He himself was already imagining his Dickens collection on one shelf, maybe next to the Twains… Although it might make more sense to put Dickens next to Oscar Wilde, leaving Twain next to Poe, but where would the Brontës go?
“Nerds.” Shermie looked down at Lee, who smirked at the offended looks on his older brothers’ faces.
“I don’t have to get you ice cream later, y’know,” said Shermie pointedly. At the panicked look in his youngest brother’s eyes, he barely restrained a snort. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Little shit.
The rest of the house was just as perfect as the living room. Upstairs, there was a master bedroom with an attached bathroom. Across the hall were two rooms with a shared bathroom connecting the two rooms, which Mr. Gordon informed them was called a Jack-and-Jill bathroom. There was one extra, smaller room that Shermie wasn’t quite sure what to do with, but he was sure the three of them could find a use. There was only one real question pressing on his mind.
“How much is it? I mean, this all looks…” He gestured vaguely at the hallway. “It all seems perfect, but there’s no way I can afford it.”
“Well, normally I would agree with you, young man. But, to be honest with you, I’ve been having a heck of a time trying to sell this place,” Mr. Gordon said.
“How come? What’s the catch?” asked Lee suspiciously.
“Oh, there’s really nothing wrong with it,” Mr. Gordon chuckled. “It’s just that people around here are a bit superstitious, and they all think this house is… well, haunted.”
Shermie was pretty sure he could see the hearts in Ford’s eyes, which only intensified when the realtor added, “On account of the strange sounds that come from here at night. And the murders—well, alleged murders.”
Sherman Pines could not believe that he was about to move into a haunted murder mystery house just to make his brothers happy.
His bookshelf might need a little more Poe…
“Shermie,” said Stanley around licks of his chocolate ice cream cone (with jimmies, or sprinkles, as they called them everywhere but South Jersey), “Did you know that you’re, like, the coolest?”
“I’m well aware, but do go on,” said Shermie, paying the girl at the ice cream window and grabbing a stack of napkins.
“I need to do research on the new house, I can’t believe we’re going to live in a real haunted house!” Just about every sentence out of Ford’s mouth for the past few hours had been virtually identical, so Shermie ignored it for the time being.
“For starters, you managed to make Sixer happier than that time he got that super old original copy of The Hobbit. I didn’t even know that was possible. We don’t have to go to school with Crampelter anymore, we’re gonna have our own rooms but still be able to have sleepovers whenever, and right now, we’re in a super cool motel with a pool and complimentary dumpster rats!”
“I don’t know if that last part is necessarily a bonus, but I’m happy if you’re happy. I guess.” Shermie made a mental note to make give the twins a talk about the dangers of rabies and tinnitus, but that could wait. For the moment, he was just happy to walk through the town with his brothers, listening contentedly as they both chattered excitedly about the possibility of pirate ghosts.
It was mostly quiet as Shermie drove to the Avery mansion at 6:30 am on the first day of school for the Avery twins. His twins were still half asleep in the backseat, and he left them to sleep once he parked. The morning air was still tinged with the humidity of summer, though not quite as hot. He let himself into the mansion and walked up the stairs to the other twins’ room. He knocked on Wyatt’s door first, as he had since starting a little over a week ago. This, however, would be the first real test of Shermie’s ability to get the Avery twins up and ready in a timely manner without any incidents.
“Wyatt, buddy,” he said, entering the room and stopping when he saw Joseph already in the room, helping his son to button up his starch white uniform shirt.
That was part of Shermie’s initial challenge—while his brothers would be attending East Burgess Elementary, Wyatt and Abigail were enrolled at a private Catholic school almost half an hour away. Fortunately, East Burgess actually started school one day after St. Dominic Academy, and so Shermie was using the drive as a test run to see if the two sets of twins would get along.
“Good morning, sir—uh, Joseph. How’s everything this morning?”
“Oh, just fine. Abigail isn’t up yet, if you wouldn’t mind…?” Joseph asked, squinting at the tiny buttons on Wyatt’s collar.
“I can do that,” Shermie offered, stepping forward, but Joseph shook his head.
“No, I can do it.” He was still fumbling with the buttons when Shermie left through the door that connected to the playroom and knocked on Abigail’s room. Hearing no response, he opened the door.
“Abigail? It’s time to get ready for school.” He flickered the lights a few times, smiling when the little girl sat up, rubbing her eyes.
“Ready to get dressed?”
Abigail shook her head silently.
“Is it a no words morning?” Shermie asked, stepping forward to pull back the covers and tap her gently on the shoulder. She didn’t react to the touch, which from what Shermie had learned so far either meant that she was in a good mood or on the verge of a meltdown.
“Okay,” he responded to her silence. “I can do no words, but you need to get dressed.”
She pouted slightly, but slid out of bed and accepted the uniform Shermie handed her. He exited the room with the usual reminder to let him know if she needed any help. Only a few minutes later he heard a small, stammering, “M-Mr. Shermie?”
He re-entered Abigail’s room and immediately winced. The six-year-old had put on the skirt, socks, and undershirt for her uniform, but her tights and shirt were discarded in the corner.
“Hey, I think your teachers would be way happier if you had all of that on, huh kiddo?”
She just shook her head, lip trembling.
“Okay. Let me see… is it the tights? Are they too hard to get on, because I don’t think I know how to—”
“Itchy,” was all she said.
“Ah. Just the tights, or the shirt too?”
“Itchy,” repeated Abigail, tapping her hands against her legs rapidly. Her face was red, and Shermie could sense an explosion on the horizon. Still, he tried his best to calm the raging storm.
“Look, I get it, but… Think of it like this. Your dad puts on his suits every day to go to work, right? I’ve worn suits, and believe me, they can be pretty itchy. But at the end of each day, he takes off the suit and he puts on a cozy sweater at home, right? Do you think you can—”
“No!”
And there it was. Shermie just stepped back for a moment as the little girl sobbed and screamed. After giving her about thirty seconds, he sat on the ground across from her.
“It’s okay to be upset, Abigail. I get it.”
The screams didn’t stop or even cease, but Sherman kept talking, keeping his voice steady. “We don’t have to do the tights today, it’s not too cold. Now, let’s see what we can do about that shirt…”
Shermie looked into Abigail’s closet and narrowed his eyes. “I know you have other white shirts, you were just wearing one yesterday.” He wasn’t sure, but he was pretty sure the screams were dying down already.
“You know, I think there’s some wiggle room in that dress code of yours,” he said. “Now, where is… There we go.” He picked the paper with the dress requirements off of the dresser and examined it.
“There’s no reason why you should have to wear exactly this shirt, you know. How about…” He reached back into the closet and pulled out a different white blouse, this one made of a softer cotton. Shermie placed the top on the bed and picked up the offending garments from the floor. “There, that should be better. We can worry about the tights later, but for now, I’m going to go outside. If you need me or your dad, just ask and we’ll help you out, okay?”
Abigail continued to sob, but she nodded.
“Great! Okay, I’ll see you in a minute.” Shermie left the door open as he went back to help get Wyatt ready.
“Wyatt, Mr. Joseph, how’s it hangin’?”
Joseph finished tying his son’s tie and smiled. “There you go, Wy. I think we’re alright in here, Shermie. Is Abigail okay?”
As if on cue, Abigail’s voice came from the other room. “Daddy? Mr. Shermie?”
“Coming, sweetie!” Joseph went to his daughter’s aid, ruffling Wyatt’s dirty blonde hair as he left the room. The little boy grinned at his father before realizing that he was now alone with Shermie.
“How’re you feeling, kiddo? First day of first grade?”
Wyatt shrugged. “Dunno.” He looked towards the door his father had just exited from anxiously. Shermie picked up on the movement and bent slightly to make eye contact.
“You okay, Wyatt?”
The little boy shifted. “Yeah. I’m okay.”
Twenty minutes later, as Shermie tried to get the Avery twins in the car, he quickly realized that Wyatt was not, in fact, okay. The six-year-old sobbed as he was passed from his father’s arms to Shermie, and he clung to Joseph’s shirt like Shermie was trying to push him off a cliff, not buckle him in. His cries were evidently affecting his twin, as she covered her ears and began to turn in circles.
To Lee and Ford’s credit, they just sat in the car without commenting on Shermie’s situation.
“Hey, can one of you sit in the front?” He was half expecting that to go horribly wrong too, but his twins were merciful and just started a game of rock, paper, scissors. Shermie was just grateful that Ford somehow hadn’t yet figured out that Lee always played rock.
“Okay. Um. Abigail, here is…” He continued to hold Wyatt with one hand, rummaging through his pockets with the other. “Here…are my old house keys from my old house in New Jersey. Can you take care of these for me?”
Abigail cautiously uncovered her ears and reached for the keys. She immediately began experimenting with the different sounds they made when clinked together. Shermie turned his attention back to Wyatt, who was still crying his little eyes out and probably staining his dad’s tie.
“Wyatt, buddy, can you look at me for a minute?” He turned his head obediently, and Shermie shifted his hold on the little boy. “Awesome, good job. Look, I know it’s gonna be a long day, and you want your dad, but Abigail will be right there with you, okay? And guess what?”
“Wh-what?” asked Wyatt between sniffles, letting go of Joseph to rub at his red eyes. Shermie smiled gently.
“You’re her big brother, and that means it’s your job to take care of her. Now, I don’t know about you, but I think it’s kinda hard to take care of her if she’s at school and you’re over here with your dad, huh?”
Wyatt looked between his father, who had moved several steps back to avoid being grabbed again, and his sister, who had climbed up into the backseat next to Lee (Ford must have won) to continue playing with Shermie’s old keys.
“Whaddaya say? Can you do that for me?”
“O-okay,” Wyatt sniffed.
Shermie grinned. “Good man, Wyatt.” He set the little boy down in the car and quickly buckled in both of the Avery twins. Before he could get into his own seat, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Joseph stood beside him with a look of sheer gratitude and relief.
“Sherman, you’re a genius. How much am I paying you?”
“Well, uh, I’ve only been working here for a week, so I don’t actually know yet.”
“Whatever it is, consider it upped, doubled, even. The kids love you, my boy.” The man’s jovial smile turned serious as he said, “Please work for us forever. Please.”
“I don’t think I’m going anywhere any time soon,” Shermie said, removing Joseph’s hand from his shoulder. “The kids are great, and I’m gonna get them off to school now.”
Mr. Avery nodded quickly, eyes wide. “Yes, of course. Have a good day at school,” he called into the car, waving at his semi-happy children.
Shermie nodded politely at his boss and got in the car. “Alright, then. Uh, Abigail, Wyatt, these are my brothers, Lee and Ford. They’re eight, and they’re twins just like you two.” He started the car, taking it out of the circular driveway and onto the road as Lee introduced himself as the “cooler twin,” causing the Avery twins to bicker playfully about which of them was the cooler twin as Ford butted in with a cry of “No fair!” The half hour drive went quickly, and Shermie was able to take a moment to appreciate the early fall foliage as the two sets of twins entertained themselves.
After walking Abigail and Wyatt to their classroom, which only raised a few questions from teachers who were used to female nannies and au pairs, Shermie sank back into the driver’s seat with a sigh of relief. He turned to his brothers, who were now both in the backseat. “Well, those were the other twins, whaddaya think?” He had to admit that he was holding his breath a little.
Lee shrugged. “They’re okay. Wyatt said he likes to draw, so I told him about my comics.”
“And Abigail said she wants to memorize the digits of pi, so I guess they’re both cool,” said Ford.
Shermie navigated through the sea of cars dropping kids off as he casually said, “Oh yeah? That all?”
After a beat, Ford quietly admitted, “They said my hands were cool.” Shermie glanced back in the rearview to see both of his brothers beaming.
“’Course they’re cool, dummy,” said Stanley.
Shermie grinned, and although he would never admit it to either of his brothers, he choked up a little as he said, “Hey, I don’t have class today. Do you guys want to go to the lake?”
December 1960
Shermie needed coffee even more than usual. Unfortunately for him, Janet was the campus coffee shop’s only barista on Tuesdays, and he would rather drink a cup of vinegar than have to talk with her again.
However.
He nonchalantly walked past the café, and, not immediately seeing Janet, decided to risk it. The bell above the door gave a ring as he cautiously pushed open the door. There appeared to be no one working in the shop at all, but the hot cappuccinos that several of his classmates were enjoying at various booths and tables suggested otherwise. Shermie walked up to the counter and rang the little bell. He nearly jumped out of his skin when a voice from behind the counter said, “Be right with you.”
Shermie leaned over and saw a girl sitting on the floor. She looked up from her copy of Anna Karenina and smiled brightly. “Hi!”
“Um,” Shermie said intelligently. He was smart. He studied English and literature and he knew how words were meant out come out of one’s mouth. “Uh…You’re not Janet.”
The girl raised an eyebrow as she rose to her feet and tucked her book away. “No, I’m not. Why, did you need to see her?”
“Oh, not at all. I’m avoiding her like the plague.” Shermie wanted to kick himself. Why would he say that? Oh God, what if this girl was her friend and—
She snorted. It was unladylike and abrupt, but Shermie had never heard a prettier sound. “I can understand that. Lucky that you found me then, huh?”
Eric Priebe must have slipped Shermie something. That was the only explanation for his sudden brain fog, his dry mouth, his quickening pulse—
“Uh-huh.” Shermie blinked and shook his head, trying to clear it. “I mean, yes. I mean… I’m sorry, let me try that again.” He laughed lightly and held out his hand. “I’m Shermie. Could I get a coffee, please?”
“Hi, Shermie, I’m Becky,” she said, shaking his hand with a surprising amount of strength. “Let me get started on that.” Shermie watched as she moved quickly and fluidly, continuing to talk. “So, Sherm, what’s your deal with Janet?”
He groaned. “Oh, man. Well, we actually went out for a couple of weeks back in October.”
“Oh yeah? I take it that didn’t go so well.”
“Yeah, I mentioned… a few things, actually, but the one that really set her off was when she found out I work with kids.”
“Did she do her stupid psychology brain games on you?” Becky rolled her eyes. “She started with that farkakteh junk on my first day, if you can believe it.”
“Right? She tried to convince me that I take care of kids because of some sort of repressed childhood trauma, which is absolute… well, farkakteh. I remember all of my childhood trauma.” Shermie felt oddly proud that he had been able to make the barista laugh again.
“Sorry,” she said, still lauging. “That just… yeah, that sounds a lot like Janet.”
“Mm. And that would be one thing, but then she called me a creep because one of the kids I take care of is a little girl.”
“You’re kidding,” Becky said. She placed Shermie’s coffee down on the counter, but they both ignored it as she leaned her elbows on the counter.
“Dead serious. She also tried to tell me that I should’ve just left my brothers back in Jersey.”
“Your brothers?”
“Right, my brothers live with me. They’re eight.” Shermie looked at her nervously, suddenly caring a whole lot about what this girl thought.
“Well, don’t you listen to her,” said Becky. “Janet can be such a…”
“Psych major?” Shermie said wryly.
“I was gonna say a bitch, but sure. That works.”
This time it was Shermie’s turn to let out a barking laugh of shock. “Pff— yeah, that, that sums it up. What did she tell you?”
Becky rolled her eyes. “What hasn’t she said? Let’s see,” she began, “there was the time she told me that my father’s death caused me to grow overly attached to older men in my life—her proof for this, by the way, was that I kept complaining about my British Lit professor. Speaking of whom, Janet said that I had developed an unhealthy pseudo-relationship with the guy, just because, and get this, he tipped me.”
Shermie groaned, running a hand over his face. “I wish I were more surprised.” He took a sip of his coffee and gave a small hum of appreciation.
The two young adults stood in silence for a moment before Shermie blurted out the first thing that came to mind, not wanting the interaction to be over just yet. “Are you Jewish?”
“Yes?” said Becky warily. Shermie’s face turned red and he stumbled over his words, trying to sound like a completely normal person.
“Sorry, I mean… You’re the first person since I got here who used any Yiddish, I wasn’t… I mean, I’m Jewish, that’s great! Not that…Hm. Are you. Are you doin’ anything for Hannukah?”
“Not sure, honestly. My mom can be… She can be a real Janet sometimes, y’know? I don’t exactly want to go all the way back to Michigan, but I don’t have anything else to do.”
“Then spend it with us.” She must have drugged the coffee. That was the only explanation for why Shermie’s thoughts kept spilling out of his mouth. Becky’s eyebrows flew up towards her bangs, but she didn’t look surprised so much as… amused?
“With… you? What, in the boy’s dorms?”
Shermie shook his head, trying to clear it of excess thoughts before they came tumbling out again. “No, sorry, gosh. That came out… really strangely. I’m sorry ‘bout that.” He inhaled deeply and started over. “If you would like to, I live a few minutes away with my little brothers, and we have a spare room that I haven’t done anything with yet. I know we’d all be happy to have you join us, but don’t feel like you’re obligated to or anything.”
The brunette was silent. Flushing, Shermie took his coffee cup, about to turn and run out the door, when she said, “Okay. I’ll… give you a call?” She slid a notebook and pencil over the counter. After staring blankly for a moment, Shermie sprang into action and jotted his new phone number down.
“Okay. Great. Yes! Uh…Yeah. I’m gonna…” He made a vague gesture toward the door. Becky hid a laugh behind her hand as Shermie left, holding a coffee cup and, for the first time since he had arrived at school, looking forward to the holidays.
April 1961
Shermie’s nineteenth birthday was the Saturday before Passover. After getting the day off from Joseph, he had made plans to have a few people over to his house for a small party, including Becky, some friends from school, and whichever staff members at the Avery mansion weren’t working that day. Even Caryn was planning to take the train up to Maine to visit her sons, which she had only been able to do a few times.
Shermie’s idea of a party included far more board games than the average college student—luckily, his friends agreed with his idea of a good time. Really, the only outlier was Stanley, who had continuously heckled his brother’s choice of entertainment, but being eight (almost nine), Lee didn’t have much perspective on what else Shermie could be getting up to. Ford was thrilled, and had even asked if he could invite one or two friends from school. Shermie had felt a pang when Ford looked so surprised at the fact that he even had friends to invite, and had of course agreed immediately. Lee, meanwhile, wanted his school friends to stay as far away from his nerdy family as possibly, but since the twins shared so many friends, he had begrudgingly agreed to invite a friend as well.
That afternoon was raining heavier than the Pines boys had seen in years. The clouds had been rolling in all morning, but Shermie had hoped that it would’ve cleared up to allow people to come over. Now, it was looking like traveling would be just about impossible. Becky, having showed up before the rain, sat on the couch, studying for her American Government final. She had stolen Shermie’s sweater, which was about two sizes too big and looked more like a dress on her five-foot-three frame.
The twins were upstairs in one of their rooms—Shermie hadn’t checked up on them in a few hours, but he was sure they would be fine. Five o’clock rolled around and no one came to the door, but Shermie could hardly blame them. The rain was pounding, and he could barely see out the window through the downpour. By 6:30, he had given up hope that anyone else would show up and had started a game of Scrimble with his girlfriend and the twins while the rain died down. He had no vowels remaining and was just about to call it quits when a knock interrupted Becky’s playful taunting about her own twenty-four point word.
Shermie sprang up to get the door, grateful for the interruption from his own inevitable loss. To his surprise, it wasn’t any of his friends at the door, nor his coworkers or even one of the twins’ friends, but a uniformed police officer. The nineteen-year-old’s smile dropped.
“Good evening, officer. Is there something I can help you with?”
Not even the sound of Lee’s muffled curse as he ran upstairs made Shermie feel better as he invited the cop out of the gradually dwindling rain. As he began speaking, Shermie felt a pit grow in his stomach, even as Becky placed a hand on his arm. He was vaguely aware of Stanley coming back down the stairs, of Lee and Ford each gripping one of his hands, but he barely registered their presence as the officer told them what had happened.
Caryn Romanoff Pines had taken a cab from a train station almost three hours away from East Burgess and gotten stuck in a flood zone. The cab driver had continued through the monsoon as best he could, but there was only so much to be done. They had hydroplaned on I-95 and collided with an eighteen-wheeler.
The drivers of both vehicles had survived.
Caryn hadn’t.
Shermie would never forgive his father for a lot of things—the way he’d treated him, the twins, and even Caryn, but he never wanted to speak to him again when he learned that Filbrick wasn’t even going to allow him and the boys to attend their own mother’s funeral. Not only were they barred from entry, but the bastard hadn’t even given his sons the decency of letting them know. No, Shermie had taken the week off of work and school to make the ten hour drive to New Jersey with his brothers, only for his Uncle Franklin to tell him with a half-hearted apology that Filbrick didn’t want them at his wife’s funeral. Shermie was too stunned to say anything as Franklin closed the door to Shermie’s childhood home in his face. He walked back to the car in a daze, where Stanley and Stanford were waiting in the backseat, confused.
“What’s wrong?” Lee asked when Shermie said nothing.
“Th-they’re not…” Shermie cleared his throat and blinked back tears. They burned at the corner of his eyes, as if daring him to show weakness and sever any hope of his father’s acceptance. “They’re not letting us in. We have to go back home.”
Someone knocked on the window of the car, and Shermie whipped his head around hopefully. But it was Uncle Franklin again, this time holding a piece of paper. Shermie rolled down the window wordlessly, and his uncle just left the sheet on the passenger seat.
Ford reached into the front to grab at the paper. Shermie just sat in silence as Ford read shakily, “If you see Sherman, tell him that he stopped being…that he stopped being my son the second he walked out, and that his brothers would be…better off without him.” The eight-year-old swallowed, staring at the paper before Lee snatched it out of his hands and crumpled it up.
“Forget him,” Lee said. “Who cares what he thinks? We’ve got each other, right?”
Ford smiled and nodded hesitantly, but Shermie could tell his heart wasn’t in it.
“I guess… I guess we’ll just go home, then.” Shermie made no move to start the car.
Lee leaned forward. “Shermie?”
The oldest brother abruptly swung his door open and stormed back onto the doorstep, banging on the door. This time, it was his mother’s sister who opened the door with tears in her eyes.
“Aunt Linda, let me in.”
“Sherman, I’m afraid—”
“You know what? Don’t even bother. Yeah, you’re afraid. Why? You never had to live with Filbrick. Is he even home?” Shermie attempted to peer behind his aunt, seeing stunned family members, but not his mother’s husband.
“Your father—”
“That bastard isn’t my father anymore,” Shermie said harshly. “You can all tell him that, too. Feel free to tell him how his waste-of-space son came, what, in a rage? What has he told you?”
“Have some respect!”
Shermie wasn’t even sure who spoke, but he spat out, “You want to talk about respect? I came here, prepared to suck it up and deal with Filbrick and all of you, for my mother’s funeral.” When no one spoke, he banged a hand against the half-open door. “She was my mother, goddammit! If you won’t let me come to the funeral, at least let the twins—”
“Your father made it very clear that none of you were welcome here anymore.”
The door slammed in Shermie’s face and he stumbled backwards, nearly tripping off the stairs. He backed towards the car.
“Please tell me you weren’t listening to all of that,” he said in response to his brothers’ wide eyes.
“Um…” Lee began, but Ford had already looked away guiltily.
“Great.” Shermie leaned his head on the steering wheel. The tears he had been holding back for what seemed like a decade came freely now as he barely managed to say, “I’m really sorry, guys.” He covered his mouth to stifle a sob, but it was fruitless. For the first time in years, Shermie let himself cry.
The twins shared one of their Looks before wordlessly climbing over the center console to join their brother in the front seat. Lee reached for Shermie’s hand. The oldest brother sat up, still deflated, but allowed himself to crack a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach his red, puffy eyes.
“Don’t say sorry, Shermie. You didn’t do anything wrong,” said Ford quietly.
“Yeah! We’d way rather be with you than Pop,” Lee added, moving so he was almost in Shermie’s lap.
“I should’ve… I dunno. If I hadn’t brought you with me, Ma wouldn’t have—”
“With all due respect, that’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever said. And you once argued that it wouldn’t have worked if Frodo had just tied the ring to a mouse, so that’s sayin’ something.”
Shermie elbowed Ford playfully. “You callin’ me dumb, knucklehead?”
The twins both giggled, settling comfortably against Shermie as he relaxed into his seat. The silence was only interrupted by the occasional sniffle as Shermie allowed himself to calm down before saying, “Just for the record, the narrative structure of the story dictates that—”
He was cut off by a groan as Ford delved into the many reasons why it didn’t make sense to him, punctuated by Stanley’s remarks about how he liked the part with the battles.
Maybe the boys would be alright.