Later that morning, she padded into Lilah’s bedroom, baby receiver in hand. She smiled, seeing the bed was made. Lilah had even propped her fairy book against the covers. The baby monitor was on the dresser as always, with its green “on” light glowing. She reached for it with her free hand, and as her fingers wrapped around the box, it squealed, making her release it as if it had burned her. The monitor struck the floor, instantly killing the noise.
She turned off the parent unit she had been holding and leaned it against the fairy book. She retrieved the monitor from the floor. It was quiet now, but she twisted the knob to shut it off anyway. Static crackled from it as the light dimmed to black and then went silent. She bent to pick up the parent unit from the bed, her fingers brushing the white plastic. Lilah’s monitor crackled, startling her.
But it was off.
She twisted the knob on and off; it stayed silent. As she turned away from the bed, the light on the receiver glowed, stopping her.
But it was off.
Frowning, she touched the knob. It was already turned in the off position. She twisted it on and off again, watching the light brighten, dim, and then die out completely. She twisted it again, testing it. The light glowed green when it clicked on and went to black when she clicked off. She waited a moment until she was satisfied the receiver was truly off.
She straightened and headed for the doorway. The parent unit crackled then, making her flinch and toss it back onto the bed. She stood there, openmouthed, watching it as the light clicked green. It glowed steadily for several seconds before it quietly dimmed to black again. She stared at it, waiting for it to turn on again. Several seconds of stillness passed before she picked it up.
She twisted the knob, but it didn’t turn on. She turned it again nearly a dozen times and it stayed off. Figuring the batteries had just died, she shook the strange feeling that hugged her and went in the bonus room. She easily found the cardboard box where they’d stored the monitor and receiver, and closed them away. She’d probably never use those again. Why was she keeping them?
Sophie’s face, close-eyed and pale, flashed in her mind.
Kara told herself not to conjure up the name, busying herself with pushing one of the smaller stacks closer to the window. Cardboard rubbed against something, making it clink. She looked behind the stack, finding shattered glass scattered over the plywood floor. She looked around the boxes before looking up. A lower window pane was broken.
“Oh, no,” she muttered. She dragged boxes out of the way, searching for an obvious culprit: a baseball, a rock, a bird. But she saw none of those things. She restacked the boxes against the window so the room wasn’t exposed to the outside. Kara had only blocked one of the windows, but no matter, doing so had dramatically darkened the room.
Still uneasy, she exited the house and eased onto a patio chair on the deck. She faced the tree-line that touched the Foremans’ backyard. By rote, her eyes flicked over the tall, swaying trees, wondering about that poor dog, Blacky. He had been dangling, tightened at the neck by a…what, rope?
She swallowed, looking deeper into the woods, wondering where exactly the dog had been found. The Foremans’ rear porch peeked at her through the trees as she called John on her cellphone. When he answered, she saw a flash of white fluttering in the breeze. It was a few rows of trees in, a bag or ribbon.
“Know how to fix a window?” she asked him, leaning to the side to see better.
“What happened?”
She stepped into the grass, her eyes trained on the white swatch as she moved around to the side of the house. “It’s in the upstairs bonus room, the lower pane of glass is broken. I think a bird crashed into it or something.” She gazed up at the broken window, making out its jagged glass, set against brown cardboard.
“Weird.”
“I covered it with some stacked boxes for now.” She looked down at the grass for glass shards or what had caused the break, but there were no clues. “Should we call Tom?”
Tom showed up later that morning, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder.
“Watch out for glass. I haven’t cleaned it up yet,” she warned as he helped move boxes away from the broken pane.
“Lots of stuff you have here,” he said, setting a box down on the other side of the room.
“Yes, too much.” She stood back to let him inspect the damage.
“That’s a strange break.”
“Yeah…How do you mean?”
He touched the glass remnants clinging to the sash. “Single-paned.” He looked briefly at the other windows. “Hmm, they’re all single-paned…”
“Is that strange?
“On a new-build, yes.” With his booted foot, he swept the shards closer to the wall. “Just makes you wonder what else the builder skimped on.”
“How do you think it broke?”
“I’d say something outside hit it. See how all the glass is inside?” He glanced around the room. “Find any stray baseballs or birds?”
“No. That’s what I thought too. Could the heat have done anything like this? We had a storm the other night. Maybe it was from that?”
“I don’t think so. This break is almost in the center of the window. To me, it looks like something came through it with some force. Could’ve been an animal. I don’t see feathers or fur, but it’s possible.”
Kara wrinkled her nose. “Animals seem to be dying all over the place.”
“What?”
“Nothing. You think you can fix it?”
“You’ll want a replacement window, a double-paned one this time. They insulate better and are stronger.” He sniffed in a couple times, glancing in between the boxes. “I don’t smell anything dead anyway.”
“Well, that’s a good thing.”
“Do you want me to replace the other windows with double-panes?”
“No, not now. It’s probably expensive, right?”
He nodded. “Yeah. I think so anyway. At least a thousand.”
She laughed. “Um, yeah…Just the one window. We haven’t priced any of the other work we want done yet. I don’t even want to think about how much all that’s gonna cost.”
“Let me take some measurements and I can place an order. For now, we can seal the hole with plastic.”
Chapter Sixteen
“I’m working late again,” John said without preamble on Friday afternoon.
Kara tapped her cellphone to speakerphone and resumed hand-drying dishes the dishwasher hadn’t completely dried. She glanced at the microwave clock: 4:52. “When do you think you’ll be home?”
She felt his hesitation across the phone line. “I don’t think I’ll be home tonight.”
“John.”
“Why don’t you invite Tracy or Shannon over?” he suggested, keeping his voice light.
She knew he was trying to distract her already-creeping anxiety with the idea of a grownup sleepover. She simply replied, “Call me later.” After they hung up, Kara mulled over his suggestion. Company would be welcome, but she’d see Tracy the next day, so that would be a wasted trip for her. Inviting a local over might be nice, though.
She pressed Shannon’s name on her phone, but it went straight to voicemail. She didn’t bother leaving a message. Oh well, she had to suck up her courage to be the grownup again. Besides, she didn’t want her kids thinking they were unsafe because they’re mother was a scaredy-cat. They’d be fine.
She looked through her stored texts, resting on her exchange with her mother. The last message Kara had sent, “Hello?” had been left unanswered. She still had no idea what the David situation was. Should she even be concerned?
She tapped Margaret’s name and rested the phone against her ear.
“Hello?”
She blinked, surprised Margaret had actually answered. “Hi, Mom.”
Margaret sighed in exasperation. “Kara, I’m in the middle of something. Can I call you back?”
“I just have a quick question.”
“Look, I ca
n’t right now.”
“You never called me back.”
“It can wait.”
“Can I just ask you—”
“We’ll talk later.”
“Mom, it’s about David. You said he contacted you?...Hello?” Kara pulled the phone away from her ear and saw her mother had already hung up.
Love you too, Mom, she thought with annoyance. She didn’t get it. What was Kara supposed to think? Had her mother forgotten about it? Was it a joke?
It was unreal. She had been raised not to depend on her, and here she was, in her thirties, being let down.
She texted Margaret, I’d appreciate if you told me what David said to you. Thanks, and slammed the cellphone on the kitchen counter.
* * *
Dusk was turning into night, and Jack, who had been watching the sun sink into the woods, spotted the first of the lightning bugs twinkling in the backyard. He twisted around from the great room windows, his knees digging into the couch. “Mom? Can we catch lightning bugs?”
Kara looked out the windows, noticing not for the first time night was coming on fast. She had been dreading it all evening. “Yes, but let’s stay close to the house.”
“Do we have a jar I can use?” Jack asked when they were outside. He neared the eastern edge of the woods. Three yellow lights blinked sporadically near him, beckoning him closer to the dark trees.
“Jack, stay out of the woods!” Kara called to him from where she and Lilah were, near the swimming pool. “No, I don’t have any jars.”
“What about a shoebox?” he asked, moving closer to the tree-line.
“No, you’re not using a shoebox. I don’t want any bugs in the house. Jack, I said stay away from the woods!”
He took a few steps away from the trees, but still hovered close to them.
“Jack, come over here. There are a lot coming out now. See?” Kara gestured to the blinking lights that multiplied every few seconds.
“Mommy, I want to catch it,” Lilah announced, reaching her arms out. But every time Lilah was at the brink of catching one of the glowing bugs, its light would blink off, making it disappear. When it beamed again, it was ten feet away and three feet higher, out of reach.
“Mom, they’re all coming this way!” Jack called to them, reaching out straight from his chest to several that blinked in front of him.
Kara looked over, seeing he was right. The little bugs seemed drawn to the trees. “Come on, Lilah, let’s try to catch them as they head this way.” Kara and Lilah moved toward Jack. She willed herself not to visualize Blacky. That happened a long time ago, Marvin had said; the neighborhood was quiet now.
“I got one!” Jack’s excitement broke into her trepidation. He cupped his hands together and walked over to them. “See?” He opened his hands so they all could peer at the black bug crawling around his left palm, blinking its light.
“Gross!” Kara laughed. It reminded her why she had outgrown her interest in catching them.
“There are so many of them,” Jack murmured.
Kara looked up. All around them teams of lightning bugs flew up and down, their yellow lights disappearing and reappearing. It was amazing seeing so many fairy lights surrounding them.
“Cool,” Lilah said, before exclaiming, “I got it!”
“You did?” Kara and Jack asked in unison.
Lilah opened her fist, showing them the bug crawling on her finger. She squealed when it glowed. Swiftly, it took flight again, escaping smoothly out of her reach. Kara watched it float upward and toward the tree-line, following its friends to whatever magic drew them to the woods. She watched it until others drew near it, all of them bouncing up and down, their lights flickering on and off again. Now you see us, now you don’t.
Kara looked back at the house. She had purposely kept the first-floor lights on, so that the inside glowed from behind the curtained windows. Its contrast to the night was jarring. The single deck light was on, but its light barely covered the small deck, so inadequate it didn’t reach the grass.
She turned around, taking in her nearby surroundings. They were much too close to the woods. It was now so dark Kara could only make out the kids’ shapes when they were just close enough to the house. She no longer heard the squeals of her children who were catching fireflies at a quicker pace, now that the flashing lights were everywhere. Her ears were wide open to what went on beyond the lawn, hearing the wildlife that had fully awakened within the boundaries of the woods. She heard scampering somewhere near the trees they had gotten too close to. Her eyes were trained on the blackness of the woods now, listening intently to the rustling of the underbrush and the scampering bodies. She heard an animal scream, her cue to go inside.
“We’re getting bit by mosquitos now,” she said, ushering Jack and Lilah toward the house. “Come on. Now.”
Inside, she locked the backdoor and settled the kids in front of the TV. She made them popcorn and hesitated, gripping onto the filled bowl, her back on the French door. She trained her ears, but didn’t look outside. It wasn’t that she heard anything concerning, it was just she didn’t want to look out at the night. She felt like she had been thrust into a spotlight, on display to whatever lived in the night. She supposed the feeling was silly, part of her natural paranoia, and tried to ignore it as she set the bowl down on the coffee table near the kids. But she didn’t glance out the dark windows as she pulled the drapes shut, nor as she passed the backdoor on her way through to the kitchen.
She pulled the kitchen and dining room curtains closed, averting her eyes so that she only looked at the fabric, then headed to her bedroom. She flipped on the light and was grateful she had thought to close the drapes earlier.
Such a scaredy cat, she scolded herself. She stood for a moment, twisting a hand in the other, her thoughts for once not on the memory box on the dresser, a mere five feet from her. She felt restless, uncertain what it was she wanted to do. Ultimately, after some internal debate, she decided on taking a bath. She had lavender bath salt; perhaps, that mixed with warm water could help her relax.
She flipped on the bathroom light and closed the bathroom door. Thinking of the kids, she left the door unlocked, in the event they needed her. She turned on the tub faucet, then opened the door to the closet that was across the room beside the shower stall, and flipped on the light: nobody there. She hadn’t thought there would’ve been someone lurking in there, but checking made her feel better. She undressed and sank into the tub, resting her head against the cool porcelain. Steam from the hot water rose around her. She closed her eyes, promising herself the night would pass quickly and John would be home soon. It was silly to feel that way; she had no justification to be on edge. Her mother had worked late nights throughout her upbringing. Why was she so nervous now?
She opened her eyes and soaped up a washcloth. It wasn’t normal for John to spend nights away from home. Her thoughts went dark. What if he wasn’t really working? What if he was actually doing something else: having an affair?
She quashed the thought. There were no signs of that. But…would she have thought that if it wasn’t true? Was this a hint of woman’s intuition?
No.
She was positive he was being honest about work. Why would they have bothered moving to their dream home if he wanted to be away so often?
Unless he wanted to keep her far away.
She thought about that. Is that why they had moved away from the city? But who could he be having an affair with?
The thought made her queasy. Besides, she couldn’t imagine him straying. She had never even caught him looking at another woman. He was a devoted husband and father, her ally. Well, she corrected, he hadn’t been her ally as of late, not when she mentioned Sophie.
She rinsed her hair, suddenly wondering if this was the conclusion her mother would make if she knew John was out late at night. Her mother, the cynic, of course she’d assume he was cheating. It brought Kara shame, as if she was siding with Margaret over John in her moment of
distrust.
John was working, he had a deadline fast approaching. They’d be back to normal soon.
The water was too hot to bear anymore and she was sick of thinking he was someplace other than the office. Kara got out of the tub and wrapped herself in a towel. She turned off the light and opened the door, the light from the master bedroom wrapping a wide band across the tiled bathroom floor. She returned to the tub and sat on its edge, wiping perspiration from her face, relaxing as the bedroom’s coolness drifted in.
John’s at work; he’s a hard worker, give him a break.
She took a deep breath and released it before standing up. She reached toward the counter for her nightshirt, freezing as her fingers touched the fabric, but then she pulled her hand away.
Someone was watching her.
Her eyes darted over the bathroom. The doors to the shower and closet were still closed. But, she realized, she hadn’t thought to check the shower earlier. Goosebumps covered her arms.
She snatched the towel without looking and pressed it against her front before approaching the shower door. The glass was clear, but that didn’t help in the dark room. Holding her breath, she reached out and, in one swift movement, pulled the shower door open. She jumped back, her wide eyes as she looked in the small space. It was empty.
But still, someone watched.
She stepped into the tub, still draining water. The curtains were closed against the decorative window, but there was a gap between the two panels. Careful not to disturb the material, she peered out.
She gasped. Someone was outside.
The figure, the black shape of a person, stood just beyond the shelter of the tree-line, its dark silhouette outside of the lamppost’s beam at the driveway’s edge. Kara ducked down. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears; it was all she could hear. She reached out to the countertop and grabbed her nightshirt, quickly pulling it on, then peered outside again. Only her eyes and the top of her head cleared the sill. The figure was gone.
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