Housewarming

by Jennifer Bowen

  “No. It’s a few doors down from our place. I don’t know who owns it.”

  “I don’t know who does either. For what I do for a living, I should really know more about the places around here. Shame on me.” She laughed and then pointed up at the sign. “I have a hunch that if your statue is very much like the image on this sign, then they very likely have something to do with each other. It’s too coincidental and the fact that it was buried in the ground…Do you know that Seter Lane, and actually much of Grace Township, was grant land paid out to soldiers who fought in the American Revolutionary War? A lot of the land in this region was used to pay eighteenth century veterans for their service. The government needed to entice settlers to move westward to build up America and this wild country was perfect for soldiers who wanted to build westward. Maybe for some, it was to make a new start.”

  “So, it’s possible the statue we found in our yard is as old as the eighteenth century?” Kara’s head was spinning, wondering at the possibility of an artifact from hundreds of years ago found on her property. Who knew what else could be buried in the soil?

  “Well, I can’t say the statue you found is as old as the American Revolution, but it might be an antique. I’d have to have someone analyze it to determine its age. Would you mind bringing it in so I can take a look?”

  “Oh, that’d be interesting, Kara,” Tracy cooed. “Maybe it’s worth something.”

  Kara replied, “Well, I’d have to see if Lilah would be okay with that first. It’s hers.”

  “Well,” the clerk said, “I’d be interested in seeing it. Perhaps, I can get in touch with the former shop owner to find out the story behind the sign, as well as behind your daughter’s toy. If they’re connected, that is.”

  Returning inside, the clerk disappeared through the back of the store while Kara and Tracy browsed the salesfloor.

  “I can’t believe you can cram so much old stuff into one room,” Tracy murmured, moving toward the back.

  Kara went the other way, her attention caught by a dozen wind chimes suspended from an over-emphasized window casing. She weaved her hand among their metal tubes, making every set spring to life in their unique tones. She was turning over the paper price tag tied around one of the tubes when Tracy’s cellphone dinged.

  A moment later, Tracy’s voice came from somewhere on the other side of a bureau, “Hey, where are you?” She wended through stacks of dusty books and around a rusty tricycle before stopping next to Kara. “Hey, I just got a text from Margaret.”

  Kara turned to look at her. “My mom?”

  “Yeah. I told her I’d be out here with you.”

  “She’s not coming here, is she?”

  “She can if you want her to.”

  “Why would I want that?”

  “You guys haven’t seen each other for a while, right?”

  “We talked recently.” Not that it was much of a conversation, given the fact her mother had hung up on her. “I’m surprised she didn’t tell you,” Kara muttered.

  “Oh, really?” Tracy smiled and clapped her hands together, irritating Kara. “That’s great! I’m glad you talked. I think it hurt her not being invited to your housewarming party.”

  Kara threw up her hands. “How did she know I had a party? Didn’t we talk about this?”

  “Well, I don’t really get why you didn’t want—” Tracy’s phone dinged. Another text message. After Tracy had texted back, she said to Kara, “She wants to go shoe shopping today. Want to come? She can come out here, if you want.”

  “No thanks.” It was weird Tracy and her mother were friends. It was on the verge of disturbing. Apparently, Tracy was the daughter Margaret should’ve had; at least, as long as Tracy was unmarried anyway.

  Tracy looked imploringly at Kara. “You look like hell, if I’m going to be honest with you. Something’s off. If you’re having any problems right now…If you feel you can’t confide in me, then maybe talk to your mom.”

  Confide in her mom? Was she nuts? They didn’t have that sort of relationship, and after thirty-two years, Kara didn’t see it changing now. Besides, she was pretty sure telling her mother how she had been feeling would end up with her being reminded again she shouldn’t have married John. She’d feel worse.

  Kara asked with irritation, “Does she know we’re talking about this right now?”

  She doesn’t, and I didn’t promise her anything. I just said maybe we all could get together today.”

  “Maybe? Really?”

  “Will you talk to her?”

  Kara’s words were stunted, a pause between each word, “I do not want to talk to her.” Margaret was still withholding information about David, and Kara was over it.

  “See it from her side. You did just up and leave her, not only you, but her grandkids too. She has virtually nobody now. Do you see how crummy that is?”

  Kara scowled. “You don’t know our history. Just don’t get involved.”

  Tracy crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re right. I don’t know how it is. Why don’t you tell me?”

  Kara scoffed. “Has my mom told you anything?” She tried not to think about the lunchtime chats they had behind her back. Any discussion about Kara had to be negative if it came from Margaret.

  “No, she doesn’t talk either. But you guys should. I hate to say this, but maybe moving away from her wasn’t a good idea. You’re all she has. Would you ever consider moving back?”

  Kara was flabbergasted. What an absurd thing to suggest. Her face was hot. Move so her mother could act as she always had? There was nothing to go back to. She could get that same exchange over the phone.

  After a moment, Tracy said, “You really don’t look good. You look worn. What’s going on?”

  “Just stop. I’m done. It’s none of your business and I’m just done. You can hang out with my mom, I don’t care. When I feel like it and when she feels like it, we’ll talk.”

  Tracy sighed, holding up her cellphone. “What do you want me to tell her?”

  “You can tell her the truth, that I don’t want to see her today.”

  “Alright.” Tracy dutifully texted Margaret back. There was some back-and-forth texting before Tracy looked up and said, “Okay, I’m going to shop with her when I get back.”

  “If I want to see her, I’ll ask her to come out myself. Did she even want to come?”

  “I’m sure she would’ve come.”

  “It was your idea, wasn’t it?” When Tracy didn’t answer right away, Kara said, “Just please don’t interfere with our relationship.”

  Tracy mumbled, “Okay, I won’t.”

  The clerk returned, oblivious to the tense exchange. “I found the price of the chandelier. If you come back with me to the counter, I can ring you up.”

  Kara followed her, asking, “Can I take it home today?”

  “Certainly, but you’ll need some help lifting it. It’s very heavy.”

  “I’m sure we can do it.” That’s all I’ll ever ask of Tracy again, Kara thought bitterly. It would probably do her well to take a break from her meddling friend, at least until she figured out what her mother’s intentions concerning David were.

  The clerk opened the ledger to a handwritten page, almost all of its lines filled. “There we are. Just write your name, phone number, and address, and I’ll ring you up.” She turned the book toward Kara and offered a pen.

  Kara had filled in her information and was turning the book back around when her eyes fell on a name written near the top of the page. She laid her finger on the line below Shannon’s name.

  Kara looked up with a smile, easing the book back toward the clerk. “Sorry, I just noticed the name of someone I know.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Kara’s pace had slowed as the days progressed. Her eyes burned and she saw shadows lurking sometimes—inside the house and outside. She tried not to be alarmed; they always subsided. There had been no more sign of the shadowed figure, which by then, Kara had chalked up
as having been part of her imagination.

  After she dropped Lilah off at school, Kara went to her bedroom, wanting to do nothing but sleep dreamlessly. She looked at the bed with its crumpled, silky sheets, and knew she’d never sleep, wouldn’t be able to relax. Standing there, her ears were tuned to the settling sighs of the house and the hollow knocking of a woodpecker outside.

  She turned around and settled a hand on the memory box, pausing a moment before pulling back the lid. She hovered over, close to the neatly-folded, striped receiving blanket, and inhaled its scent. Sophie’s baby powder smell lingered. She closed her eyes and was back in the hospital. Instead of the backs of her eyelids, she saw a long corridor with a gray-and-white speckled floor. The nurses’ station abutted another hallway that ran perpendicular; wide, brown, numbered doors dotted her peripheral. A sign on the wall read, “Maternity” with an arrow pointing to the left.

  She had forgotten her room’s number—it didn’t matter now anyway. Her room had a window with a view of the roof and the fifth floor of the building next door. Across the way she could see the south wing. Theirs was newer, four floors higher and perched with heart patients who looked upon the drab maternity building where she was housed temporarily.

  Her room smelled heavily of disinfectant and there was a TV attached to the wall in the corner. John napped on the couch, which was too narrow for his broad shoulders, while they waited for her to dilate to 10. They had been there for over 18 hours; she, with John by her side, had waddled around the corridor, pushing an IV stand. It felt like their new home, they got so familiar with the patients they passed and the constant noises of the murmuring TVs in other rooms.

  Pushing the baby out had been frightening, but exciting. Kara paused and pushed for nearly an hour, her angle of John’s face above her changing from excitement to worry to confusion. When she had delivered, the room had grown eerily quiet, and then it was empty of hospital personnel. The nursery warmer and the infant were gone too, no longer in Kara’s room.

  The doctor told Kara and John that Sophie had lived for three minutes, but there was nothing they could do to keep her heart pumping on its own. Puzzling things like this happened sometimes, unfortunately. In their case, it was a tragedy no one saw coming. When Kara held Sophie after being told the news, she wondered if the doctor was wrong. The infant she cradled in her arms was pink-cheeked. How did she not breathe? Her daughter with fine, blonde wisps of hair, her eyes forever closed, was dead.

  A thump brought Kara back to the present where she still stood in her bedroom. She blinked dry eyes and, hearing something tap, closed the memory box. She returned it to the dresser before going down the hallway. She saw movement through toile that covered the sidelight of the front door and cautiously moved to it.

  She pulled the fabric back slightly to peek out at the same time a man’s face came close to the window. They both jerked back in surprise. He backed up and waved. It took her a moment to recognize him. She waved back, wondering why Desmond Howard was standing on her porch. He wasn’t asking her again about the Collumber house, was he? She unlocked the door and he backed down to the sidewalk.

  “Hi, Kara!” he said a little too enthusiastically. Smiling, he ran his hand over his mustache and over his jaw, before dropping his arm to his side.

  “Hi.”

  “Ahem! I was just checking in. I see the mum is still in bloom.” He gestured to the potted plant beside the door. “Still thinking of moving to a mansion?” He wiggled his eyebrows and chuckled.

  She gave a short laugh. “No, that was a mistake to call. I hope you weren’t waiting long. I didn’t hear the doorbell.”

  “I knocked.” He combed his hand through the side part of his short brown hair and shuffled his feet. He looked over the house and then toward the driveway where his sedan sat, its engine idling. The moment felt awkward to Kara, as she watched him surveying the property. Finally, as if remembering she was standing across from him, he turned back to her, the smile having faded. “I’m happy you’re still enjoying the house. You are still happy?”

  “I…yes. We’re still happy here.”

  “No complaints, hmm?” His smile broadened again, but didn’t quite reach his eyes.

  Her smile fell. “Everything’s fine.”

  “The Collumber house is still for sale!” he chuckled, then he cleared his throat. “Well, fantastic! You have a great property.” He backed down the sidewalk. “Call me if you have any questions or concerns, and feel free to pass my name along to friends and family.”

  She went back inside, regretting again that she had dialed his phone number, asking about the Collumber house. She hoped this was the last time he’d be checking in. He was an awkward man in general and she could do without the visits.

  When John called just after four, she brought him to speed on Desmond, wondering aloud if his coming around was normal.

  “I don’t know, I’ve never bought a house before,” John replied. “He’s probably just looking for referrals. Maybe the housing market is still rough.”

  “He’s just weird.”

  John laughed. “Yeah, a little.”

  “So. Why am I the lucky recipient of this afternoon call?” She was suspicious of the reason for the call and he proved her suspicions correct.

  “The team came up with a new strategy today. I want to try it…tonight.” He explained it’d be another late night and that he’d try to make it home, but he’d call again if it ended up being another overnight.

  “You know I don’t like being home alone.”

  “I know.”

  She confessed, “I thought I saw someone the last time…by the driveway.”

  “You did?”

  “Well, I think I did. I don’t know. I’m not sure. But I don’t like you being away all night. What if it was someone watching us?”

  “What did they look like?”

  “I don’t know, it was dark. It may have been a tree, okay?” she laughed, but at the back of her mind, she still wondered what she had seen.

  “I’ll try to come home tonight. You know I’d rather not work this late, but this project—it’s the first one I’m leading. I just want it to go alright.”

  “I know, and it will.”

  “Call the police if you see someone out there.”

  After she hung up, Kara checked on the kids. They played in Jack’s room. He was at the head of his bed, playing with a building set and Lilah was on the floor nearest the closet, playing with the statue and her stuffed, pink unicorn. It pleased Kara to see she played with something in addition to the statue. It felt healthier for some reason.

  “Hey guys, Daddy’s working late again tonight.”

  Jack’s head whipped up. “Again?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why?”

  “He’s working on a big project.”

  “Daddy always works late,” Lilah said, nonchalantly. Her tiny fingers twisted a lavender ribbon in the unicorn’s white yarn mane.

  Jack added, “Yeah, since we moved here.”

  “Daddy doesn’t like this house,” Lilah said simply.

  Kara watched her as she struggled to tie the ribbon, her matter-of-fact statement giving her pause. Was there truth in that? Did John not like the house? “Why do you say that, Lilahbean?”

  “What’s for dinner?” Jack grumbled.

  Lilah shrugged. “What’s for dinner?”

  Kara watched her for a moment, but saw she wouldn’t get anything else out of her. “How does fried chicken sound?”

  “Pizza,” Jack said.

  “Ja-ack,” Kara’s voice sing-songed. “We’ve had a lot of pizza lately.”

  “I want pizza!” Lilah jumped to her feet, the unicorn rolling from her lap onto the floor. The statue remained in her hands.

  “Pizza! Pizza! Pizza!” Jack started the chant and Lilah joined in.

  “Okay, okay! We’ll get pizza!” Kara gave in, backing out of the bedroom. When they followed her, continuing their chant,
Kara warned, “If you guys want pizza, you need to stop saying that.”

  They finally stopped the chant when they entered the kitchen, breaking into laughter. They hovered around until she popped a frozen pepperoni pizza into the oven, as if they needed visual confirmation.

  Kara sat at the kitchen table, crossing her arms. “Now what should we do?”

  “I’m going outside!” Jack announced, going out the backdoor.

  “Only for twenty minutes,” Kara called as he closed the door. She noticed Lilah still held tight to the statue. “Can I see your doll?”

  Lilah moved away.

  “Lilah, why can’t I see her?”

  “She’s mine.”

  “I just want to see her.”

  “I want to go play.”

  Broaching the subject of the antique shop, Kara asked, “Would you mind if I had somebody look at it?”

  Lilah’s eyes narrowed. “Huh-uh. She’s mine.”

  “I know she’s yours, but I know somebody who wants to see her, to see how special she might be.”

  Lilah hugged to statue to her chest. “No!”

  “Lilah.”

  “I wanna play!” Lilah whined, turning away.

  Kara sighed. “Alright.” She didn’t want to touch it anyway, even though she knew it was strange to feel such abhorrence to a sculpted hunk of clay. There was something about the molded faces, their grins were creepy. She hated the sound of it rolling around on the floor of her car every time she dropped Lilah off at school, as if it was a boulder thumping from side to side. To have to carry it, feeling its surprisingly heavy weight as she touched the rough texture and the contrasting smoothed masking tape that covered its mid-section as she handed it to the shop clerk, gave her the willies.

  Her cellphone rang then and seeing the name displayed on the screen made her smile.

  “Hey, Shannon!”

  “How are you guys?”

  “Me and the kids are just hanging out, getting ready for dinner. John’s working late tonight.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I don’t want to interrupt dinner.”

  “No, that’s alright. It’s still in the oven. What’s up?”

  “Not much. Tom went out with some guys and I’m bored.”