Not Sophie. Soapy.
“Soapy water. Can’t I have a bubble bath?”
Kara exhaled, covering her face with her hands.
“Mommy?”
“Yes, Lilah.” Kara straightened and, with jittery hands, pulled out the bottle of bubble bath from under the sink.
After putting Lilah to bed, Kara found herself in the bonus room, a barren shell filled with nothing but cardboard boxes, partially blocking the windows. How could she not think of Sophie after a scene like that?
She sat on the plywood floor, careful of splinters, and reached out to tug on the nearest stack of boxes. She stopped herself. She couldn’t do it. She pulled her knees to her chest and pressed her forehead against them.
I’m so sorry. I can’t.
Sighing, she got to her feet and wandered outside to the deck. She looked at the trees, trying to clear her whirling thoughts. Why was her mind going back there after all this time?
Her eyes snaked over the woods, until she glimpsed something white mingling with the leaves. Her thoughts twisted then as she remembered the tale of Blacky, the dog hanging in the woods. Her woods.
Would she always think of that damn dog every time she looked at the trees?
She stepped off the deck and walked around the house, stopping on the gravel driveway. Two cars passed by on the road below. Cows grazed on the hill beyond.
Sophie crept into her thoughts again. The white box she pictured packed away in the bonus room wasn’t her; it was just a symbol of her, a reminder. John had suggested she take it out. Why did that seem like a terrible idea?
She looked down at the driveway. Grass sprouted through the gravel. She squatted, pulled the tufts out, and threw them into the yard. She went into the garage to get grass killer, but didn’t find any.
She spotted the forgotten woolen blanket she had discovered the day they had moved in. She turned it over in her hands, touching the dried orange paint, and dropped it into the plastic garbage bin, which she wheeled to the end of the driveway. She looked down the empty road, knowing Jack wasn’t due home for another two hours. She climbed up the driveway, her eyes finding the yellow colonial peeking through the tree-line. The thought of the blonde woman fluttered into her mind, but was forgotten when she went inside her house.
John arrived home in time for dinner. Jack did the most talking as they ate. He had already made a friend and liked his teacher. Kara was glad for his chatter. She made no mention of her confusion from earlier in the bathroom and Lilah seemed oblivious it had happened. There was no point in Kara bringing it up to John. It would only make him uncomfortable and maybe even lend to his recommendation that she seek professional counseling. If it kept happening, he’d have to suggest she get help, wouldn’t he?
She received a text from her mom after dinner, Are you all moved in?
Kara texted back, Just about. It’s been busy. How are you?
When Margaret didn’t immediately respond, Kara checked to make sure her text had gone through. It had. She monitored her phone throughout the evening, but didn’t receive any more messages.
She crawled into bed that night alone. John was in his office. The kids had gone to bed hours earlier. She willed sleep to come, but her thoughts wandered to Sophie.
She turned on her side, shifting the pillows. She inhaled deeply and let out a shaky breath, trying to relax. In the dark, she gazed at the unwavering green glow of the baby receiver. Lilah hadn’t had a nightmare for weeks now. It was like the monitor was a talisman, warding off night terrors. Or maybe the statue was the charm. Kara visualized the crude, grinning faces. She fought to will away the image, as it made her skin crawl.
She concentrated on her breathing, emptying her thoughts, and eventually, fell asleep…
She was standing on a dirt path, surrounded by mist. Gnarled trees encroached, their knotted roots making the ground bumpy. On wobbly legs, she followed the road, clumsily stepping along. She moved so slowly; it took all of her strength just to go forward.
Up ahead, she sensed eyes on her; she knew the watcher waited on the other side of the fog. They wanted something from her and she wanted to give it to them, if only to get them to leave her alone. She forced her hands into her pockets, searching for it. She fought the fabric. Her pockets weren’t deep, but still, her fingers rooted around for it, as if it were hidden in a secret lining. Where was it? If she gave it back, they’d leave her alone. Of course she had it!
But she didn’t.
Chapter Eight
“No toys. That includes your dolly,” Kara said, opening the car’s backdoor.
Lilah’s forehead wrinkled. “But she has to stay with me.”
“Sorry, she’s not allowed.” Kara softened, explaining, “It’s a school rule.” She wasn’t sure if that was true or not, but thought that it very well could be. Besides, if it wasn’t a rule, she worried the statue could be a distraction from learning. The statue seemed to distract her from playing with her other toys lately, anyway: another thing Kara had noticed and had wondered why it bothered her.
Making no further argument, Lilah climbed out of the car and opened the door to the front passenger side. She propped the statue against the vinyl seatback and patted the frog’s head before closing the door. Kara noticed she didn’t kiss her beloved dolly and was inexplicably glad.
It was Lilah’s first day of school and she bubbled with excitement, immediately seeming as if she had instantly forgotten the ugly statue. When they located the classroom Lilah would be spending most of her day in, the little girl let go of Kara’s hand and scrambled to the floor beside a girl stacking blocks. Lilah got to work building her own tower. Kara smiled at their turned-away faces, but they didn’t look her way. Other children in the room glanced at her, curiously, and she smiled politely on her way into the hallway.
Miss Fiona smiled pleasantly, passing Kara. “We’ll see you in a few hours for pick-up.”
Kara returned to her car in the half-filled parking lot. She started the engine, but left it idling when something swept over her, tickling her. She twisted her arm, but saw nothing, and looked at her lap to see if a bug had crawled on her. But she didn’t see one. Excusing it as a phantom itch, she scratched her arm, then placed her hand on the gear selector. She paused again.
She felt eyes on her.
She looked out the windshield and through the side windows, but saw nobody in the lot. The cars surrounding her were empty. She looked at Grace School, but the blinds were shut. Turning, her gaze crossed the parking lot to the Federalist house next door.
The curtains on the third floor were drawn, as were the ones on the second floor, but the first…
She flinched, seeing movement cross one of the side windows. Had they been watching her?
Her stared, willing them to come back past the window. But no one did.
She glanced away, looking down at the passenger seat. The statue leaned on its side, facing her the clay girl and frog staring at her.
She leaned over—careful to grasp onto the masking taped mid-section—and laid the statue face-down on the floor mat. She looked at the house again. The sensation of being watched was gone.
She headed home, her eyes drawing in the weathered barn at the corner of Seter Lane as she drifted by under plumed trees lining the road. Turning onto her driveway, she drove up the incline. She waited as the garage door opened, her eyes going to the front porch. Something was on the doorstep, but from there she couldn’t make it out.
She parked the car in the garage and walked up the sidewalk, her keys jangling in her hand. She approached the front steps, slowing down as she neared, comprehending what her package was. She halted, then did a half-jump back, crying out. It was an animal, unmoving, slumped at the front door.
Covering her mouth, she forced herself to look at the opossum, its ugly open snout revealing sharp teeth it didn’t need anymore. She shuddered, unwillingly committing to memory its rat tail and light gray fur before running into the garage and in
to the house through the mudroom. She called John, but got voicemail. She texted him to call ASAP, then peered out the front door sidelight before shrinking away. She didn’t know what to do; she certainly wasn’t going to touch it. She wondered if finding a dead animal on your porch normal in the country.
Dismayed John didn’t sense her panic, she paced around the foyer, avoiding the sidelight. After a dozen back-and-forths, she went into the kitchen and stopped at the table: she felt the sensation of being watched again.
Slowly, she turned toward the great room. It was mostly dark because the drapes hadn’t yet been drawn. Her eyes went straight to the only source of light: the playroom door was open a few inches, a rectangular streak of light cutting through the opening.
Kara shoved the door closed and leaned against it, closing her eyes. She sighed heavily, releasing some of the agitation. She eventually moved to the couch, then gradually made her way into the laundry room.
When she was done putting clean clothes away, she pulled out her cellphone to try John again. She saw she had no phone signal and her earlier text to John had failed.
“Dammit,” she muttered. She went outside through the garage and wandered around the front yard, holding out her cellphone, trying for a signal. After five minutes of walking aimlessly around, she wanted to toss the phone. She groaned, giving up, looking across the road. No cows were out; no cars paddled down the road. She felt absolutely alone.
She was turning back to the house when she heard a screen door slam shut. She followed the sound with her eyes to the yellow house behind the trees. She wasn’t alone, after all.
She didn’t look toward her porch as she passed by and crossed the lawn. She rapped on the screen door of the Foremans’ screened porch.
“Kara,” Diane said, moving through the shaded enclosure.
“Hi! I was just in the neighborhood and thought I’d drop in,” Kara joked, her voice higher than normal.
Diane didn’t laugh, but opened the door. “Want to come in?”
“Thanks.”
“I was about to have a glass of iced tea. You can join me if you like.” Clandestinely, there was a half-full pitcher and two empty glasses sitting on a wicker table. “Unless this is a quick visit and you need to get back to the little ones?”
“They’re in school, so I’m alone for at least another hour.”
“They’re both in school? I hope you don’t mind sugar in your tea.” Diane had already started to fill the glasses.
“Sugar’s fine. Yeah, Jack’s at the elementary school and today’s Lilah’s first day at Grace School.” Kara accepted the glass and took a drink. It was more sugar than she was used to, but she drank it gladly. She hadn’t realized how thirsty she was.
“That’s beside the Collumber house, isn’t it?” Diane eased into a white, wicker rocking chair, settling back against a cream-colored pillow, cross-stitched with a trio of violets.
“The Collumber house?”
“The three-story brick house on Main Street. I’m sure you haven’t missed it.”
“The Federalist-style house with the black fencing?” It had a name; it deserved a name: Collumber house.
“That’s the one. Next door to Grace School. Both houses are almost as old as the American Revolution.”
“I love that house!” Kara admitted, “There’s something about it.”
Diane gestured toward her house, connected to the porch. “This house came almost a hundred years later. This is a new-build in comparison.” She sipped her tea. “Grace School is a good school. Marvin went there and so did Matthew.”
Matthew? Kara wrinkled her brow and parted her lips.
Diane continued, “I suppose you’re anxious being alone in your house. You’re not used to the children being gone.” She leaned back, regarding Kara. “Why a large house for such a small family?”
Kara held the glass with both hands, feeling the slick coolness seep into her skin. “We lucked into it. I don’t think we really wanted a large house when we started looking.”
“You’re not sure?”
“The idea of getting a house sort of just sprang up on us. John grew up in the country and when this house became available, well, we were lucky we got it.”
Diane curled her upper lip, her eyelids heavy. “You said that already, that you were lucky.” The conversation halted in the suddenly too-small enclosed porch.
Kara laughed nervously. “Yes, well, I guess we were doubly lucky.”
Diane’s laugh was husky. “You have a beautiful home. If Marvin hadn’t been willed his family’s house, I would’ve looked for something new as well. He wouldn’t let us leave this place.”
Kara’s eyes scanned over the antique contents of the porch. Even the patio furniture was ancient. The wicker chair she sat on was faded and splintered and the tan-and-lavender striped cushion squeezed wilted cotton through its ripped seams. “Your house is great. Older homes are so stately and their history is so fascinating.”
Diane looked pointedly at the termite-infested window sill. “Not every old house is ‘stately,’ and not every old house has a ‘fascinating’ history. Marvin’s family was full of cold, inconsiderate bastards. Some actually were bastards, now that I think about it!” Her laughter was coarse.
Kara laughed half-heartedly, unsettled, and blurted, “Is Matthew your son?”
Diane’s eyes flashed, but her face turned grave. “Yes.” She wrinkled her brow, selecting her words carefully, “He’s had a troubled life. Things have always come to him with difficulty, you know, like with school. He’s a grown man now and sometimes he stays with us weeks at a time. But he has his own place in Taylortown. He manages, but sometimes it gets too hectic and he comes home to relax.”
“It’s always nice to be able to come home,” Kara replied stupidly, not knowing what to say. Remembering suddenly the blonde Lilah had mentioned to her, she blurted again, “Is the blonde your daughter?”
Diane furrowed her brow and stopped rocking. She looked out the screen for an awkward moment before settling her gaze on Kara. “I don’t have a daughter.”
“Oh, she must’ve been someone else.”
“I haven’t seen a blonde.” Diane’s expression was stony.
“Oh. Lilah thought she saw someone…I guess she was mistaken.” She sipped her tea and changed the subject. “John told me Marvin will be helping us with some repairs around the house.”
“You need repairs? It’s a new house.”
“Apparently, newer than we’d like. It’s not a lot,” Kara reassured her. “Two rooms and some minor cosmetic projects. We’ll pay Marvin, of course. We’re hiring a contractor for the bigger jobs.”
“Marvin likes to keep busy. He needs to keep busy.” Diane looked out the screen again.
“Well, we’ll have him busy soon!” Kara laughed. She set her mostly-filled glass on the table and stood. “I should get going. I left my cellphone at home and who knows if the kids’ schools have been trying to get a hold of me,” she lied. She didn’t mind returning home to the dead opossum. Her body urged her to exit the stifling porch.
Diane opened the door for her.
“Thank you for the tea.” Kara stepped onto the grass.
Diane nodded, her lips curving up slightly.
When Kara had crossed the tree-line into her yard, the screen door banged abruptly, startling her. She turned around, seeing Diane’s shadowed form return to sit in her chair and start rocking.
Chapter Nine
The shuffling along the roof irritated Kara more than the banging. It sounded like a hunchback slinking across the shingles, slithering like a monster up and down and side-to-side, pausing here and there and then moving again, scraping along. More than anything, it was probably the start and stop of the noise that irked her. She moved from her bedroom into the great room, trying to ignore the commotion John and Marvin made that Saturday afternoon. Normally, she would’ve been excited that John had a sudden lull at work and was using his downtime
to tackle the first of their many renovations, but her headache made that impossible.
She closed the windows, even though it was cool outside and turned on the air conditioner to try and block out the sounds. She lay on the couch with her eyes closed, but couldn’t nap like she wanted to. She had taken ibuprofen every few hours for the last two days, but it hadn’t helped.
She blamed the headache on lack of sleep. Lilah’s nightmares had seemingly vanished, but now Kara was having trouble sleeping. She slept some through the night, but her troubling dreams kept her up.
She sighed, finally giving up on the nap, and slipped into her flats. She stepped outside, grateful John had power-washed the remnants of the opossum away. He had tossed the rodent in the trash and the garbage truck had taken it away the day before.
She moved down into the lawn and turned to look up at the roof. John and Marvin knelt there. “How’s it going?” she called.
Marvin stopped hammering the metal flashing, calling down a hello, and John hollered, “Skylight’s almost done!” He picked up a drill and pressed the trigger, making it zip for emphasis.
“I don’t know if I like you doing renovation work. Construction makes you cockier than normal,” she joked. “And why is Marvin doing all the work?”
Marvin grunted through his hammering blows. “Ah! Got it!” He reached for a shingle, which John promptly handed over.
“Hey, when you guys are done, do you think you can get the playroom door to stop popping open?” she asked.
“I can take a look at it after this,” John said.
She gave a little cheer before calling, “Okay, I’ll leave you guys to it.” A motor rumbled, making her turn around. An SUV drove leisurely past on the road, taking a peaceful country drive, no doubt. Kara stepped back and looked at her house. She, too, admired the ivory stucco and the brick accents creeping along the windows. The second-floor dormer windows were adorable, and the porch was inviting, the swing they had recently purchased tucked under the eaves. The lawn was less whimsical, bare except for the center oak and the trees that bordered the yard. Next spring, she’d plant lilacs, hydrangea bushes, and lilies. That would make the house look even more like a storybook cottage.
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