Under_The_Whispering_Door_by_TJ_Klune
rise and rise and rise until he took his place amongst the stars. It was aterribly wonderful thought.Instead, Hugo pulled him into the house, careful so that Wallace didn’tbump his head on the doorframe.The clock ticked the seconds by.Mei and Cameron sat on the floor in front of the fireplace, Apollo on hisback, legs in the air. Nelson was in his chair. They didn’t speak as Hugoclimbed the stairs, Wallace trailing after him, feet never touching the floor.He thought Hugo would take him to the door and speak more of what itcould mean, what might lay on the other side. He was surprised when Hugowent to one of the closed doors on the second floor.The door that led to his room, the only one Wallace hadn’t been into.Hugo paused, his hand on the doorknob. He looked back at Wallace. “Youready?”“For what?”“Me.”Wallace laughed. “Absolutely.”Hugo opened the door and stepped to the side. He motioned for Wallaceto go through.Gripping the frame, he pulled himself into the room, ducking his head.It was smaller than he thought it’d be. He knew the master bedroom wason the third floor, and that it’d belonged to Nelson and his wife before they’dpassed.This room was neat and tidy. Harvey, the health inspector, wouldundoubtedly be pleased. There wasn’t a single speck of dust, not a bit ofclutter or a thing out of place.Much like the first floor, the walls were covered with posters and picturesof faraway places. A never-ending forest of ancient trees. An ancient statueon the banks of a green river. Bright ribbons hanging over a colorfulmarketplace filled with people in flowing robes. Homes with thatched roofs.The sun rising over a field of wheat. An island in the middle of a sea, astrange home set on its cliffs.But they weren’t all out-of-reach dreams.A man and a woman who looked like Hugo smiled from a framed picturehanging in the center. Below it was another photograph, this one of a mangydog looking grumpy as Hugo gave it a bath. Next to this one was Hugo and
Nelson standing in front of the tea shop, arms folded across their chests, bothof them grinning widely. Underneath this one was a picture of Mei in thekitchen, flour dotting her face, eyes sparkling, a spatula pointed at thecamera.And on and on they went, at least a dozen more, telling a story of a lifelived with strength and love.“This is wonderful,” Wallace said, studying a photograph of a young Hugoon the shoulders of a man who looked to be his father. The man had a thick,bushy mustache and a devious spark in his eyes.“They help me remember,” Hugo said quietly, closing the door behindhim. “All that I have. All that I’ve had.”“You’ll see them again.”“You think so?”He nodded. “Maybe I can find them first. I can … I don’t know. Tell themabout you. All that you’ve done. They’ll be so proud of you.”Hugo said, “This isn’t easy for me.”Wallace turned around in air. Hugo frowned, his forehead lined. Hereached up and slid the bandana off his head. “What isn’t easy?”“This,” Hugo said, motioning between the two of them. “You and me. Ispend my life talking, talking, talking. People like you come to me, and I tellthem about the world they’re leaving behind, and what lies ahead. Howthere’s nothing to fear and that they will find peace again even when they’reat their lowest.”“But?”Hugo shook his head. “I don’t know what to do with you. I don’t knowhow to say what I want to say.”“You don’t have to do anything with—”“Don’t,” Hugo said hoarsely. “Don’t say that. You know that’s not true.”He dropped the bandana to the floor. “I want to do everything with you.”Then, in a whisper, as if saying it any louder would break them completely,Hugo said, “I don’t want you to go.”Six little words. Six words no one had ever said to Wallace Price before.They were fragile, and he took them in, holding them close.Hugo lifted his apron above his head, letting it fall next to the bandana. Hetoed off his shoes. His socks were white, a hole near one of his toes.Wallace said, “I…”
- Page 249 and 250: Sure, the bureaucracy of it all can
- Page 251 and 252: “He’s not gone,” Wallace said
- Page 253 and 254: He didn’t know.He’d never felt
- Page 255 and 256: “Then do it. I don’t know what
- Page 257 and 258: Hugo shook his head. Muttering unde
- Page 259 and 260: The sadness receded, though it didn
- Page 261 and 262: On the third evening, Hugo switched
- Page 263 and 264: Nancy did as asked, clutching her p
- Page 265 and 266: Mei cocked her head as if confused,
- Page 267 and 268: I KNOW. BUT I HOPE IN HEARING FROM
- Page 269 and 270: For a moment, Wallace thought it’
- Page 271 and 272: CHAPTER19Acceptance.It was easier t
- Page 273 and 274: then another and then another. And
- Page 275 and 276: didn’t know if anyone would answe
- Page 277 and 278: “What’s that supposed to mean?
- Page 279 and 280: “I’m not trying to,” Wallace
- Page 281 and 282: He laughed wildly. “If not now, w
- Page 283 and 284: Wallace felt the pull the moment th
- Page 285 and 286: As the sun set, they stood side by
- Page 287 and 288: He failed.His eyes rolled up in his
- Page 289 and 290: They said, “Cameron, let’s go o
- Page 291 and 292: grit his teeth together. Tears floo
- Page 293 and 294: CHAPTER21The next day, Charon’s C
- Page 295 and 296: He hung his head. “I’m scared,
- Page 297 and 298: Nelson rose from his chair, tugging
- Page 299: on forever. He wondered if there we
- Page 303 and 304: Hugo lowered his hand back to the b
- Page 305 and 306: “Hugo?”“Yeah?”“Don’t fo
- Page 307 and 308: Wallace couldn’t. Everything was
- Page 309 and 310: They drank tea as if it were any ot
- Page 311 and 312: impressed.”“Frankly, I don’t
- Page 313 and 314: “Don’t I?” the boy asked. He
- Page 315 and 316: discriminate. It’s there for ever
- Page 317 and 318: “You swear?” Wallace insisted.
- Page 319 and 320: “Not afraid,” the Manager repea
- Page 321 and 322: Someone crouched next to him. “Wa
- Page 323 and 324: The Manager nodded. “The job will
- Page 325 and 326: “I’m leaving now,” the Manage
- Page 328 and 329: EPILOGUEOn an evening in the middle
- Page 330 and 331: It wasn’t easy. Of course it wasn
- Page 332 and 333: Desdemona Tripplethorne returned to
- Page 334 and 335: Mei made them tea as the rest gathe
- Page 336 and 337: But a river only moves in one direc
- Page 338 and 339: Apollo licked his fingers.Hugo rose
- Page 340 and 341: Mei began to recite the contents of
- Page 342 and 343: Next, the sensitivity readers. Not
- Page 344 and 345: READ ON FORMEI’SINTRODUCTION TORE
- Page 346 and 347: INTRODUCTION TO REAPINGCongratulati
- Page 348 and 349: For example, WHITE HUMAN WOMEN expe
Nelson standing in front of the tea shop, arms folded across their chests, both
of them grinning widely. Underneath this one was a picture of Mei in the
kitchen, flour dotting her face, eyes sparkling, a spatula pointed at the
camera.
And on and on they went, at least a dozen more, telling a story of a life
lived with strength and love.
“This is wonderful,” Wallace said, studying a photograph of a young Hugo
on the shoulders of a man who looked to be his father. The man had a thick,
bushy mustache and a devious spark in his eyes.
“They help me remember,” Hugo said quietly, closing the door behind
him. “All that I have. All that I’ve had.”
“You’ll see them again.”
“You think so?”
He nodded. “Maybe I can find them first. I can … I don’t know. Tell them
about you. All that you’ve done. They’ll be so proud of you.”
Hugo said, “This isn’t easy for me.”
Wallace turned around in air. Hugo frowned, his forehead lined. He
reached up and slid the bandana off his head. “What isn’t easy?”
“This,” Hugo said, motioning between the two of them. “You and me. I
spend my life talking, talking, talking. People like you come to me, and I tell
them about the world they’re leaving behind, and what lies ahead. How
there’s nothing to fear and that they will find peace again even when they’re
at their lowest.”
“But?”
Hugo shook his head. “I don’t know what to do with you. I don’t know
how to say what I want to say.”
“You don’t have to do anything with—”
“Don’t,” Hugo said hoarsely. “Don’t say that. You know that’s not true.”
He dropped the bandana to the floor. “I want to do everything with you.”
Then, in a whisper, as if saying it any louder would break them completely,
Hugo said, “I don’t want you to go.”
Six little words. Six words no one had ever said to Wallace Price before.
They were fragile, and he took them in, holding them close.
Hugo lifted his apron above his head, letting it fall next to the bandana. He
toed off his shoes. His socks were white, a hole near one of his toes.
Wallace said, “I…”
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