More Than You Know Read Online Free PDF Page B

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    The old-fashioned thumb latch on that door made an unmistakable
    clacking sound, and it could not possibly open by itself. Or close. Fear
    pricked my scalp and down my neck, and my heart began to race. I
    waited for Edith to come out and investigate; what if there were a
    burglar in the house? The last thing I wanted to do was leave the
    safety of my bed, but I was more scared to do nothing. I made myself
    put my bare feet on the floor and went to the door.
    Things were absolutely quiet downstairs. I could hear a dark
    cedar tree close to the front door move in the wind and scratch at my
    window, but this was a comforting sound. In the downstairs dark there
    still hung a faint aroma of cheese from the Welsh rabbit we’d had for
    dinner. I listened and listened, but nothing changed, nothing moved.
    Maybe there were rules: maybe as long as I stood and listened whoever
    was downstairs was frozen? But that was ridiculous. Far more likely
    I’d heard the sound wrong. It was some other door opening and clos-
    ing, the sound carried here on the wind across the water. I began to
    dislike standing at the door in my bare feet and nightgown. I got
    myself across the floor and back into bed, trying the old rule that it
    can’t get you if you’re under the covers.
    3 1
    B E T H
    G U T C H E O N
    At least my electric lamp burned steadily. The house had only
    recently been wired and had insufficient outlets; Stephen’s room had
    only one, far from the bed, and Edith was afraid of extension cords
    so he had to use an oil lamp.
    I stared at my book and succeeded in reading the same two lines
    over and over.
    “ ‘Jeeves—there’s something in there that grabs you by the
    leg!’ ”
    “ ‘That would be Rollo, sir.’ ” A pause to listen, hard. To si-
    lence. Read.
    “ ‘Jeeves—there’s something in there that grabs you by the
    leg!’ ”
    “That would be Rollo, sir.’ ”
    What was that? I strained to hear . . . had there been something
    on the stairs? Read. Read.
    “ ‘Jeeves—there’s something in there . . .’ ”
    . . . and there was something. I don’t know what it was, but
    Whitey, who slept on the foot of Stephen’s bed, began to growl. I
    could hear him through the wall. He was making the sound of low
    menace that comes right before he starts barking. The hair along my
    arms was standing straight up. Was the room suddenly colder? I was
    straining to hear something in the upstairs hall, waiting to hear a body
    with human weight and heft try to make its way toward me. But I
    heard nothing, except the sound of Stephen telling Whitey to hush.
    Then, outside the door, I heard something that seemed like a
    weapon aimed at my heart. Someone right outside my door began
    weeping.
    I was holding my book in front of me like a shield. I stared at the
    iron doorknob, waiting for it to turn. It never did. Instead, horribly, I
    suddenly knew that something had passed through the door and was in
    3 2
    M O R E
    T H A N
    Y O U
    K N O W
    the room with me. I heard fabric rustle as it crossed the room. Then a
    soft creak of wood. Then the rocking chair by the stove began to move.
    It made a creaking squeaking noise on the floor as it started,
    back and forth. It was facing me. Someone was in it, rocking and
    watching me.
    I tried to call out, but I had lost the power to use my voice. I
    got off the bed, meaning to run for the door, but as I did, the chair
    moved violently and was left rocking. There was a dry scrabbling
    sound on the floor, like rats in dry leaves. At first I still couldn’t see
    anyone, and then, I could. There was an old woman down on all fours,
    dragging herself across the floor. She turned and looked at me hate-
    fully, with burning colorless eyes that seemed to have no pupils.
    I must have screamed loud enough to be heard up in the village
    from the look on Stephen’s face as he banged into my room. Edith
    was right behind him, and Whitey was barking and barking. I had
    jumped back onto the bed,