The Ridge

by John Rector

  Whatever he wanted.

  Then she remembered the sound of Rachel’s neck snapping as she fell, and the way her eyes dimmed to gray when she stopped breathing. And no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t make the memory go away.

  When Tyler came in, Megan was on the couch in the living room. She heard him slide his keys from the bowl by the door, but he didn’t walk out.

  She could feel him watching her.

  “Megan,” he said. “Don’t go over there.”

  She didn’t look at him.

  “Promise me you’ll leave her alone?”

  Megan’s jaw ached, and she realized she was grinding her teeth. She didn’t want to promise anything. She had to know what he’d seen, and that meant going over and seeing Rachel for herself.

  “Megan, please. Promise me.”

  She looked up at him, her face set and cold.

  “Fine,” she said. “I won’t go over there.”

  “Thank you.”

  Tyler hesitated, as if wanting to say more, but instead he walked out. A minute later, she heard his car door slam and the engine start up before fading away down the street.

  Megan leaned back, feeling the world go black.

  10

  I’m not crazy.

  She repeated the words to herself, over and over, as she paced through the house. The brochure Tyler had left for her was on the coffee table, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at it. After her mother died, it’d been good to talk to someone, to come to terms with the loss, but this wasn’t the same. Counseling wasn’t going to help her this time, and she knew there was nothing written in that brochure that would change her mind.

  I’m not crazy.

  Tyler had been gone for hours, and the more time that passed, the more she wondered if he was coming back at all, or if she’d finally pushed him away for good.

  It was strange, but part of her actually understood.

  The last several months had been tough on them both. Part of it was Tyler’s new position at the Institute, and part of it was the loneliness and isolation she felt living in Willow Ridge; but there was something else there, too, something just under the surface that Megan couldn’t quite see.

  They’d lost something when they left Chicago, and they both sensed it, but neither of them could explain it.

  One day it’d been there, and then it just wasn’t.

  And in its place, a hollow spot.

  Tyler thought it was a breakdown, that emotions left over from her mother’s death were resurfacing, and that she was being stubborn by refusing to talk to someone. But he was wrong. She wasn’t having a breakdown, not this time, and she wasn’t going to give in.

  Walking back to the living room, she glanced at the grandfather clock. It was later than she’d thought, and once again the idea that Tyler might not be coming home sunk into her chest like a blade, cold and deep.

  The pain was real, making it hard to breathe.

  Eventually the feeling passed, replaced by guilt and tears. Megan grabbed the brochure and skimmed through the promises inside. Then she dropped it back on the coffee table, wiped her cheeks with her fingertips, and stared out the front window at the blue sky, and the yellow sun, and the bright green world.

  I’m not crazy.

  Until she saw for herself that Rachel was alive, she wasn’t about to admit that she’d made a mistake, or that what she saw never actually happened. She wasn’t going to lie on a couch and talk to a complete stranger about it, and there was no way she’d say she made it up as some desperate cry for attention.

  That only left one option.

  She had to break her promise to Tyler.

  Megan stepped out onto the porch, forcing herself to not look at Rachel’s house. Instead, she focused on the curved grain of the wood on the steps, and on the scatter of cut grass along the sidewalk as she passed by. She lost herself in the smell of the lilacs, and she let the steady hum of the bees fill her, blocking out the rest of the world.

  But eventually, she had to look.

  From a distance, the house was quiet. The curtains, normally open to the sun, were closed, and the only movement she saw was the gentle, windblown sway of the roses, and the silver shimmer of the leaves in the trees.

  A red pickup truck turned the corner at the end of the street, heading toward her. As it passed, the driver, who Megan didn’t recognize, lifted two fingers off the steering wheel in a lazy hello.

  Megan pretended not to notice.

  When she got to the corner, she looked up at the Institute at the top of the ridge. The sun reflected bright off the long rows of black glass, blinding her. She turned away and thought about Tyler and wondered if she was doing the right thing.

  What exactly am I doing?

  She realized she didn’t have a plan.

  Was she just going to walk up to the front door and ring the bell? If so, what was she going to say if Rachel actually answered? What would Rachel say to her?

  And what would happen if Rachel didn’t answer?

  What if she went around the house and found Rachel lying where she’d left her in the garage, her neck still twisted, her skin now bloated and blue?

  “Stop it.”

  The sound of her own voice brought her back, and she pressed her fingers against the side of her head and took a long, slow breath. She reminded herself that no matter what happened, it was going to be okay. Whatever she found, it wouldn’t matter.

  All she needed were answers.

  Megan stepped off the curb and crossed over to the sidewalk on the other side of the street. She followed the long straight line of concrete toward the horizon and saw several sprinklers turning over lawns in the distance, each one creating the illusion of rainbows in the sunlight.

  She stopped outside of Rachel’s house and stared up at the front door. Somewhere, far off, she heard a dog bark, then another.

  Her legs wouldn’t move.

  All she had to do was walk up the path and ring the bell, and everything would be resolved one way or another.

  But she couldn’t do it.

  Instead, she looked down and kept walking, past Rachel’s house, toward the garage. Her chest ached, and she cursed herself under her breath for being such a coward.

  When she reached the edge of the driveway, Megan stopped. She knew that if she wanted to make things better with Tyler, she had to know what he’d seen.

  She had to see it for herself.

  Slowly, she started back toward the walkway leading up to the front door. She’d only taken a couple steps when she heard something move along the side of the garage.

  Megan listened.

  At first, there was nothing.

  Then she heard it again.

  The sound was quiet, but it was there, a slow rustling, a scraping followed by a dull tap.

  A rabbit?

  She told herself to walk around the garage and see what was on the other side, but it seemed like an eternity before her legs responded and started moving.

  She stayed focused on the shadowed path running between the garage and the tall row of hedges, and each step she took revealed a little more. She saw the familiar pale white light shining out from the side door, and heard the scraping sound again, the tapping.

  She held her breath, her lungs burning as she pushed herself forward, straining to see.

  A flash of gold. . . A dress . . . A shadow . . .

  “Hey there.”

  Megan spun around, her voice coming out in a short scream. She felt the ground shift under her, and then a hand on her arm, steadying her.

  “Oh God, I’m so sorry.”

  Fiona was standing in front of her. The look on her face was a perfect mix of pity and laughter.

  Megan’s heart was in her throat, and the world was spinning. She couldn’t catch her breath.

  “I was calling you from across the street,” Fiona said, trying not to smile. “Didn’t you hear me?”

  “What?”

  Me
gan pulled her arm away and looked back toward the side of the garage. The light was out, and the door was closed. Whatever she’d seen, it was gone.

  “Are you okay?”

  Megan didn’t answer.

  Her mind was racing, trying to piece together what she’d seen, what she thought she’d seen. Her hands were numb, cramped into fists, but she didn’t feel the pain until Fiona stepped in and took them in hers.

  “Hey, what’s wrong?” she asked. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing,” Megan said. “I just—”

  She looked past Fiona toward the front of Rachel’s house. For an instant, she thought she saw one of the curtains move, but she couldn’t be sure.

  “You’re shaking,” Fiona said. “Look at your hands.”

  Megan glanced down and turned them over, stretching her fingers out. There were tiny half-moons dug into her palms. A few of them were bleeding.

  “Come on,” Fiona said. “I’ll walk you home.”

  “No!” Megan’s voice came out loud, surprising them both. “I can’t go back there. I can’t.”

  Fiona stared at her, the humor in her eyes long gone. “In that case,” she said, “you’ll come home with me.”

  Megan wanted to tell her no, that she’d be fine, and that she didn’t need her help. But when she started to speak, she began to cry.

  Fiona stepped in and wrapped her arms around her.

  Megan didn’t want to cry, but the tears wouldn’t stop. Eventually, Fiona put an arm over her shoulder and led her away.

  Megan apologized, told her that she was embarrassed.

  Fiona smiled.

  “Don’t worry,” she said, pulling her in tighter. “This is all perfectly normal.”

  11

  I’ve got green or Earl Grey.”

  Fiona leaned out of the kitchen and held up two boxes, one yellow and one a pale green.

  “Green is fine,” Megan said. “Thank you.”

  Fiona disappeared back into the kitchen, and Megan heard the familiar sounds of cabinets and drawers, cups and spoons, water running and tea bags pulled from wrappers. She waited for the questions, like why was she standing outside Rachel’s house and whether she was okay.

  But Fiona didn’t ask anything.

  Instead, she hummed a soft song that Megan couldn’t quite place, and she didn’t say a word.

  For that, Megan was grateful.

  “I picked up a new kettle at the plaza the other day,” Fiona said. “I haven’t had a chance to use it yet, so I’m glad you’re here. You can be my lab rat.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  Megan got up and wandered around the living room, looking at the furniture and the art and the flow of the room. Fiona’s house was the mirror image of hers, and it was a little unsettling at first. Having the kitchen on the right, and the stairs on the left felt unnatural. But the biggest difference, and the one that stood out to her the most, was the view from the front window.

  Fiona’s window faced south, overlooking the street and the grove of willow trees running along the base of the ridge. There were a few houses in the way, but if she stood in the right place, she could block them out and have an unbroken view of the dense, swaying forest.

  In the kitchen, the kettle whistled and Fiona said, “Looks like it works. Experiment, successful.”

  Megan knew she should say something to be polite, but she was lost in the view and it was hard to break away.

  “Your view is incredible.”

  “It’s about the only thing in this place I wouldn’t change.” Fiona’s voice got louder as she came into the room. “If you stand in the corner, you don’t have to look at any of the houses across—” She saw Megan and stopped. “Never mind. Looks like you figured it out.”

  Fiona was carrying a wooden tray holding two teacups, a sugar bowl, and a teapot—all of it blue-and-white china. She set the tray on the coffee table, then crossed the room and stood next to Megan.

  “When I first moved here, I put a chair right in this spot, and I’d sit for hours and stare out at those trees.” Fiona exhaled, slowly. “There’s something so calming about weeping willows, don’t you think?”

  “They’re beautiful.”

  “Did you know they used to grow wild around here?”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “The Institute had them removed to clear the land for these houses.” She frowned. “At least they spared a few.”

  Megan turned to face her. “I want to thank you for—”

  Fiona raised one hand, stopping her. “Let’s not do that. Everyone has a hard time adjusting to this place at first. You have no reason to apologize.”

  “I guess I should feel better knowing I’m not the only one.”

  “Not by a long shot.”

  “Still, I bet not many have breakdowns in the middle of the street.”

  Fiona laughed, but not at her. “You might be surprised.”

  Eventually, they turned away from the window and sat on the couch. Fiona poured the tea, and after a few awkward moments, they began to talk.

  Not once did Fiona ask why she was upset, or what she was doing outside Rachel’s house. She didn’t mention Tyler, or the long hours he spent away from home, and Megan didn’t say a word about what’d happened in Rachel’s garage.

  Instead, they talked about art, their favorite books, and about how bright the stars shone out there in the lowlands, so far removed from the rest of the world.

  Mostly, they talked about finding peace in change.

  At some point, Megan glanced out the window and saw the sun had gone down, and that several hours had drifted away.

  “I didn’t realize it was so late.”

  Fiona turned to the window. “Funny how the days slip by, isn’t it?”

  Megan offered to help clean up, but Fiona refused.

  “This was nice,” Megan said. “Thank you.”

  “Anytime.”

  Fiona walked Megan to the door and stood with her on the porch, holding out her arms. They hugged, and for the first time in a long time, Megan didn’t feel alone.

  Before she started down the steps toward the yard, she turned back.

  “Just so you know, the reason I was upset this afternoon wasn’t because of Tyler.” She hesitated. “At least not entirely.”

  Fiona leaned against the doorframe and slipped her hands into the front pockets of her jeans. “I’m glad to hear that.”

  “We’re not seeing eye to eye on a few things right now, but that’s not the entire reason I was upset,” she said. “I don’t want how you found me this afternoon to color your opinion of him.”

  “It won’t.”

  “It’s just, you didn’t ask about it, so I thought . . .”

  “It’s not my place to ask, but I’m happy you told me.” Fiona leaned forward and looked around at the other houses. “This place isn’t easy, Megan, but it helps when you have someone who cares, and you do.”

  “Even if he’s not always around?”

  Fiona smiled. “Even then.”

  Walking home along the sidewalk, Megan watched the fireflies drifting gently over the neighborhood lawns and thought about Tyler. Fiona was right. As bad as things were, it helped to have someone around who cared.

  She hoped he’d be home when she got there.

  All she wanted was a chance to talk to him, to tell him that they could work through this together. If that meant counseling, then maybe she would bend a little.

  She wasn’t going to change her story about what happened to Rachel, but she wasn’t going to let it destroy her marriage, either.

  As Megan turned the corner onto her street, she held her breath. When she saw her house, the windows lit and Tyler’s car parked in the driveway, it took everything she had not to run the rest of the way.

  Inside, the house smelled sweet.

  There was a soft breeze blowing through from the open windows, and a vase of white tulips on the dining room table. Tyler was outside on
the back porch, sitting alone on one of the patio chairs with a drink in his hand.

  Megan slid the screen door open and stepped out.

  He glanced back, set his glass down, and stood up.

  For a moment, neither of them spoke.

  “You’re here,” Megan said. “I wasn’t sure you would be.”

  “Why would you think that?”

  The question carried weight, and she didn’t answer. Instead, she motioned back toward the house and said, “Are the flowers for me?”

  “A peace offering.”

  She smiled, didn’t speak.

  “I didn’t handle things last night as well as I could have,” he said. “And I’m sorry.”

  “You don’t have to say that.”

  “I still don’t understand,” he said. “But the way I went about it, and some of the things I said—”

  “We don’t have to talk about last night.”

  Tyler nodded. “I could’ve handled it better.”

  Megan stepped closer and angled up to kiss him. For one brief moment, when their lips touched, all the bad thoughts slipped away. She felt like herself again, and for the first time all day, Rachel Addison didn’t exist.

  For the next couple days, things were quiet. Tyler went to work, and Fiona talked Megan into joining her on her daily walks through the neighborhood.

  It didn’t take much for Megan to agree.

  Out of all the people she’d met since moving to Willow Ridge, Fiona was the only one who seemed real to her, and Megan always felt better when she was around.

  She still kept an eye on Rachel’s house, but she didn’t mention her, or what’d happened that night, to anyone. One morning Tyler had found her staring out the window at Rachel’s house, but to his credit, he didn’t say a word.

  In a way, they were both still shocked by what’d happened. It’d been their biggest fight since leaving Chicago, and it’d left them both feeling raw.