Stipulations and Complications

by Becki Willis

  The other client she met for lunch, tucked away in her customary corner booth at New Beginnings.

  “I suppose you have something for me?” Lisa Redmond asked as she slipped into the booth opposite Madison. She looked only marginally better today than she had before. At least her hair was groomed.

  “Yes, I think I have a rather complete report to offer you.”

  After they ordered their meal and had privacy again, Madison looked her client in the eye. “Are you certain you want to know what I found?”

  The other woman sighed. “No, I don’t want to know. But I need to know. I need to have something to fight back with.”

  Madison hesitated a moment before handing the folder to the other woman. “Please know that some of the photographs inside may be rather upsetting. You might prefer to view them in private,” Madison suggested.

  “I know my husband is cheating on me. I have my suspicions about who she is. All these pictures will do is confirm it for sure.” Lisa sounded weary. Still, she did not open the folder immediately. “So what did you find out?”

  “Everything is noted inside the folder. I provided dates and times for each incident I reported. Other than one rather public display” — just a few tables away, to be exact — “I have no photographic proof that your husband is having an affair. However, there is more than enough circumstantial evidence to support that theory.”

  “You talk like a lawyer,” Lisa complained. “Just tell me outright, is Barry having an affair?”

  The woman asked for honesty. “In my opinion, yes.”

  A look of resignation settled over her face.

  “I’m not surprised. It’s the kid I feel sorry for.”

  “You have children?”

  “He does. Miley. She’s a good kid, but she’s been handed around too many times. I worry what another step-mom will do to her head.”

  Although she did not realize the girl was Barry’s daughter, Madison was familiar with the name. She had heard it often enough, spewed with venom from the mouth of her own daughter and her best friend. She made a mental note to have a talk with the girls, explain that Miley’s home situation might be responsible for her churlish attitude.

  “It’s not unheard of for a step-child to choose to live with a step-parent.” Madison offered what encouragement she could.

  Lisa Redmond perked up. “You mean you think I could win custody of her?”

  “I-I don’t know about that. That’s really not my area of—”

  “It would take a lot of money to raise a child. But I suppose I would get alimony. And she would probably get some sort of allowance…”

  Madison could see the wheels turning in the other woman’s mind. She regretted her rash statement, uttered only as a means of comfort. Judging from the look in her eyes, she feared Lisa might use the girl as an income.

  “I appreciate your help.” In a sudden flurry of motion, Lisa swiped the file from the table, stood to go, and tossed an envelope toward Madison. “Here’s a bonus for a job well done. I might as well spend Barry’s money while I can.”

  “But… what about your lunch?”

  “There’s enough in there to cover the cost of my meal,” Lisa assured her. “I have to go now. I need to contact my lawyer. Thanks.”

  Stunned at the surge of energy the weary woman suddenly displayed, an uneasy feeling settled into Madison’s stomach. She had a bad feeling that she had somehow been used.

  ***

  After eating alone and bagging Lisa’s meal as an after-school snack for Blake, Madison went home, determined to finish reading the rest of the journals by night’s end. With the exception of the stolen book, she had them all at the house, lined up in chronological order. She had yet to discover any earth-shattering news — certainly nothing worthy of murder or even theft — but there were still several entries left to read. She acknowledged that if the answers were not inside the diaries, they might never know the truth.

  Having read a similar entry in an earlier journal, Madison paused when she read a particular passage in a journal dated 1922.

  It happened again last night. For the third time this week, I awoke to the oddest sensation. I sensed that someone was watching me. This time, I thought I saw a shadow moving near the bookcase, the one my love had built for me as a special wedding surprise. I called out, but no one answered. No air stirred. All was quiet, so it must have been my imagination.

  Still, I instructed Truman to go round the entire house and make certain all doors and windows were secure. This is hardly the first time I felt that someone was in the room with me, even though I know it is impossible.

  At first, I drew comfort from the thought that it was Darwin’s spirit here with me, watching over me from his perch in heaven. I first sensed I had a visitor soon after my dear husband’s fateful accident. I was so certain that he was still here with me, trying to comfort me best he could during those stark, desolate days. But as the days passed, and as the months have slipped into years, I no longer feel comforted by the presence of my nighttime visitor. Nor can I admit to feeling frightened. (Surely, if someone meant me harm, they would have taken advantage of my defenseless state long before now.)

  The best I can say is that I feel uncomfortable, no longer at ease in my own bedroom. I often lay awake at night, pondering the existence of ghosts. As an intelligent woman, I do not believe in apparitions… yet as a lonely widow whose only friend has suddenly disappeared and whose sole visitor comes silently in the middle of the night, I find myself wondering… do ghosts really exist? What other explanation could there be?

  Madison empathized with the young widow. She could not imagine how horrible it must have been for Miss Juliet to lose her beloved husband, only to discover her sister would soon bear his child. With no other family to depend upon, she must have felt so alone.

  With a frown, Madison reread the passage. She had written ‘whose only friend has suddenly disappeared.’ Was she referring to Clarence?

  Thumbing back through the pages, Madison did not see his name in any of the entries. She went back two months before she found mention of the carpenter. She read the passages in reverse order, reviewing the latest ones first.

  … When Clarence returns, I will ask him to repair the squeaky board. I hear it most often at night, when the house is settled and still. If I did not know differently, I might think someone else was in the house, but I know that I am the sole occupant of this big, lonely mansion.

  … I have not seen my friend in days. He borrowed my copy of The Manor while away on his business trip. Clarence has been a good friend to me over the years, and I am not ashamed to admit how much I miss him. I know I would never have survived the loneliness and desolation of losing first my father, then my beloved Darwin, had it not been for his friendship. I miss our talks and our long discussions about books. If not for sweet Rose in the kitchen, I might truly go mad without someone to talk to each day.

  … Today, Clarence told me he would be leaving on a trip. He called it a business trip, although I am not certain of its nature. To my knowledge, the man is a talented carpenter, but he has no particular business acumen. I fear this impromptu trip may be the result of the awkward moment that occurred between us last week. I am afraid that my dear, sweet friend, the man who has become like a brother to me in my heart, may harbor romantic feelings toward me. However, my heart will always belong to my one true love. There is no room for another.

  So, Clarence did have feelings for Miss Juliet! Madison twisted her mouth in a self-satisfied smirk. She had suspected as much all along.

  She finished the journal through to the end and started on another. Clarence’s name was mentioned only a handful more times in either book. Twice she mentioned that he had not returned yet from his trip, but most entries referring to him were written in past tense. She recalled when Clarence built a new shelf for her, repaired something around the house, surprised her with a new book of mystery and intrigue. The final mention of her friend w
as written with a heavy heart.

  … I fear something dreadful has happened to my friend. No one has heard from Clarence in over five months, when he left for his mysterious business trip. By now, surely he would have written. Or perchance he would have sent me a book, some small token of remembrance to let me know he is doing well and thinking of me. Truman is convinced harm has befallen him. I tend to agree. In my heart, I believe that my dear friend has perished. I will remember him fondly, and smile each time I look upon one of the special intricacies he gifted me with. He wanted my home to be different from Naomi’s, filled with mysterious niches, hidden passages, and delightful surprises. He said it was only fitting that my home should be special; like its mistress, he claimed. Goodbye, my dear friend. I will miss our lively literary discussions and our shared love for the written word. I pray you find peace in the ever after.

  Madison’s heart quickened with excitement. Could it have been Clarence’s body they discovered in the secret room? Instead of going away on a business trip, what if he went to live in the cellar, where he could be close to his requited love? What if the man had a sick obsession with Juliet, spying on her at night by way of the secret staircase?

  Before Madison could grab her phone and discuss her theory with Brash, her phone rang. Nick’s name flashed across the screen.

  “Hello?”

  He did not bother with a greeting. “Madison, I need you to come down to the house.”

  “Can’t it wait? I’m in the middle of something.”

  “Drop it. You’ll want to see this.”

  ***

  Nick led her into the far recesses of the cellar, into a corner opposite the secret room. The lighting was dim and the wooden wall in front of them absorbed what little reflection there was.

  “You wanted to show me a wall?” she asked in confusion. Guessing at its significance, she all but groaned. “I can see it’s not quite flush. Don’t tell me this is a load-bearing wall that’s eaten up with termites.” Dismay slipped into her voice. “My entire house is going to fall in, isn’t it?”

  A smile stole over Nick’s handsome features. “No, Madison, nothing like that. Despite its age, this house is surprisingly sound and sturdy. As is the foundation.” His smile faded. “Even with all its secrets.”

  This time, she did groan. “Not another room,” she protested.

  “Well, not exactly.”

  “Then what?”

  One section of wood jutted slightly forward, not quite flush with the rest of the wall. To Madison, the wood appeared buckled, perhaps due to age or, worse, due to moisture. While she worried there was a water leak somewhere in the cellar, Nick tugged on the section in question. She braced herself, expecting to see faulty pipes or evidence of water damage.

  She did not expect the wall to slide away and reveal a gaping hole in the earth beyond.

  “What-what is it?” she asked in amazement.

  Nick’s voice was grim. “A tunnel.”

  “A tunnel? But… why? Where?”

  “I have no idea why. This house just keeps getting stranger and stranger.”

  “I don’t understand. Why haven’t we found this before? How did you find it now? Why on Earth is there a tunnel in the cellar? And where does it go?” She peppered him with questions as she ran nervous fingers through her hair.

  “It’s well-disguised as part of the wall. The lighting is dim enough, and the workmanship good enough, that we never suspected a hidden door. Although, given the many hidden passages throughout the rest of the house, I suppose we should have.”

  “I-I can’t believe this!” she murmured, still stunned.

  “I discovered this passage quite by accident. I noticed how the wall appeared buckled. When I tried to secure it with a nail, I realized there was nothing behind it.”

  Venturing a step forward, Madison craned her neck to see inside the dark hole. It was surprisingly large. “This is uncanny. We were talking about tunnels, just last night. I never dreamed there could be one here, right beneath my own house!”

  “Here’s your flashlight.”

  “My flashlight?” she questioned.

  “I thought you’d feel better having your own light.”

  “Wait a minute! Where are you going?”

  Already half-swallowed by the dark cavern, Nick turned back to flash her a charming grin. “It’s perfectly safe. I’ve already been through it. Follow me.”

  “But…” She felt a moment of panic. There was something spooky about being left behind, standing at the mouth of the big cavity. She had no idea what danger lurked beyond. Yet the thought of Nick proceeding without her was every bit as frightening. She wanted to be involved in the adventure, no matter the danger it posed.

  “It’s all right, Madison. The tunnel is safe.”

  Stepping into the cool recesses of the underground passage, she noted the ground beneath her feet. The earthen floor was well packed and free of debris. No snarled tree roots or stray stones to stump her toes upon. The walls and ceiling were neatly cut from clay, reinforced by columns of bricks and large beams every dozen or so feet. For a secret underground passage, the tunnel was neatly constructed and appeared quite sound.

  As she followed Nick down the corridor — she barely had to duck, the passage was so large — Maddy wondered about its existence. Was it another of Clarence’s additions? Had Miss Juliet known about it? Or was it, like the secret room, another result of his sick obsession?

  They walked for what seemed a mile, though Madison suspected it was not nearly so far. The ground gradually rose on a slight incline. The ceiling, however, remained the same height, meaning she eventually had to stoop over as they approached the end of the tunnel. The atmosphere changed and a rank odor seeped into the crevices of the earthen walls.

  “What is that smell?” she cringed.

  “Drainage pipes. Possibly a little sewer gas. Watch your step up here. This is the only part that gets tricky.”

  Madison detected the first hints of light. Light at the end of the tunnel, she mused with a slight smile.

  At the first rumble, the smile fell away. As the sound intensified and the walls around her began to tremble, panic seized her heart. An earthquake?

  No, even worse.

  “Nick! The walls are caving in!” Madison cried, clutching his arm with frantic strength. “What do we do? Should we run for it?” She could see stronger light now, filtering in just ahead. They had to climb over some sort of obstacle, but daylight — and freedom — beckoned not more than twenty feet away.

  The sound became a deadly roar. It rattled overhead. Echoed around them. Reverberated beneath their feet. Madison thought of being trapped inside the commercial chicken house while the pressure inside built, pulling at her clothes and her lungs and her sanity. This felt much the same. The roar alone was enough to push her over the edge.

  “Nick!” she screamed, tugging on his arm. “We have to go!”

  Why was he simply standing there?

  “It’s a cave-in!” she cried, pulling him toward the faint light. “Hurry!”

  “It’s not a cave-in.” He had to yell to be heard, even though he stood so close she felt his hot breath upon her ear.

  “It is!” she insisted.

  “No, it’s a train!”

  She stopped tugging. “A-A train?”

  “Yes,” he yelled. “Just wait.”

  The echo was horrific. The walls shook with intensity and the roar continued to consume her, but Madison no longer cared. She sagged in relief against Nick. He gathered her close, offering shouted words of consolation. They reached her no stronger than a whisper.

  Her body stopped trembling about the time the walls stopped quaking. The roar of the train finally retreated, chasing the cars down the rickety tracks and slowly fading into the wind. Madison whimpered in relief.

  “Oh, my poor ears!” she moaned. “They’re still roaring.”

  “I know,” Nick yelled back in empathy. He was slow in releasing h
er. “Are you okay?”

  “I will be.” She was still yelling. It was the only way to hear above the ringing in her head.

  “We’re nearly through.” They retrieved the flashlights they had dropped and he took her hand, pulling her along the final few feet. They had to scramble over a pile of dirt and rock, but beyond the rubble was an enormous drainage pipe. It connected to the tunnel on one end, jutting from under the train trestle on the other.

  “Where-Where are we?” Madison asked. She gulped in a huge swallow of air, even though it was fetid, tainted with standing water and worse.

  “At the edge of town. See, there’s the water tower.” He pointed to the landmark, helping her get her bearings.

  “So we did come a long way,” she murmured. She turned to look back into the mouth of the huge culvert. If she hadn’t just come from it, she would never guess the dark recesses led to a tunnel.

  As they retraced their steps, Madison stopped more than once to marvel. “This is absolutely amazing.” She walked a few more feet, then stopped to shake her head. “I just can’t believe this.” She repeated the pattern all the way back to the house.

  Before they reached the door to the cellar, Madison held Nick back, placing her hand upon his arm. “Please, let’s not tell the camera crews about this. They don’t know, do they?”

  “No. I wanted to tell you first, even though I’m sure Amanda will read me the riot act.” He winced as he imagined that conversation. “I just ruined the perfect reveal on reality television.”

  “You have no idea how much I appreciate that,” Madison told him with heartfelt sincerity. Amanda would, no doubt, be furious, having missed capturing Madison’s stunned reaction on live footage. “We need to keep this between us, at least until I’ve told Brash and he’s had time to investigate.”

  “He’d better hurry,” Nick grumbled thickly. “Not only is this costing us in delays, but this is becoming increasingly dangerous. I’m worried about you, Madison.”

  She wanted to brush his concern away, but it wasn’t so easy. Madison was every bit as worried. Instead of getting closer to the truth, they seemed to be sinking in deeper, discovering one layer of mystery upon another.