Sensing that Chad was starting to notice her mental dilemma, Heather held her arms out as if unfurling a cape. In a terrible attempt at a Transylvanian accent she said, “Step into my arms, my dear.”
Her voice sounded wobbly and thicker than normal.
Smiling, Chad got up. He walked over to her, hands stuffed inside the pockets of his heavy coat. She scooted over to give him some room on the log. Then he sat down and Heather threw the blanket over his shoulder. He tugged it around him, spreading it so they were both covered.
They sat there, huddled together, not speaking. Heather didn’t need to worry about Chad noticing her shakes because he was also shivering. She wondered if it was his nerves or the cold.
“Nice night,” he said.
She nodded. “Peaceful.”
“Hard to believe anything crazy could have happened out here.”
“These are the kinds of places where all the craziness happens.”
Chad laughed softly. “I suppose so. Steph could tell us all about it. She’s from Plainfield.”
Smiling, Heather nodded. “Yep. She wanted us to stop and look around Whisper Lake on the way in.”
“What?”
“True story.”
“Kind of morbid, isn’t she?”
“You’d never think so by looking at her.” She studied Chad’s reaction to her comment. Steph was a beautiful woman and she was curious what Chad thought about her, though she didn’t know why it should matter.
He didn’t reply. Didn’t act as if he’d even heard her.
“I’ve missed you,” he said.
Heather’s breath snagged in her throat.
“I’ve been worried about you,” he continued. “I’ve had to get my information from Randy on how you’re doing.” Chad shook his head. “So you know he’s always going to say you’re fine, even if you’re not.”
“I am fine.”
“Well, that’s good.”
She felt his arm moving around under the blanket. His hand found hers and took it. Pulling her hand out from between the flaps of the blanket, he angled it toward the fire. Frowning, he examined every finger.
Done with that, he let go, reached over her front and found the other hand. He repeated his inspection.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Checking out your fingers.”
Heather was confused. “Why? Got a finger fetish now?”
“Nope. Just making sure they’re all there. When you didn’t respond to any of my emails or texts or didn’t answer the phone, I thought maybe you’d lost all your fingers in a freak accident of some kind.”
Heather smirked. “Funny.”
“Not really.”
“No,” she said with a sigh. “I guess it’s not.”
“So what gives? The ignoring-me stuff.”
“What do you want me to say, Chad?”
“The truth.”
“Do we have to do this now?”
“It might be best to get it out of the way, so neither of us worries ourselves sick about when the talk is coming.”
Heather had been doing that all day. Still didn’t make her want this conversation to happen now.
“Have you thought about me at all?” he asked.
“God…”
“Sorry.”
“No, I’m not saying that because you asked. I said it because I have. Constantly.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
“I bet so. That’s my fault. I’m just still a mess from what happened…”
“No one expects you not to be. You’re tough but you don’t have to be tough all the time.”
Tell that to her mother. Mom acted as if Heather’s ordeal was something that should be treated like minor surgery. Sure, it bothers you for a while, but Heather should have forgotten about it by now.
That’s not fair. She just doesn’t know how to help me through it. She doesn’t know how to offer comfort in a situation like mine. Who does, really?
Chad wanted to try. That had been evident from the moment she first shared her story with him.
And the fact that I did tell him about it should be all the proof he needs for how I feel about him.
“It didn’t scare me away,” he said, reading her mind. “If that was what you thought.”
“Well…”
“Did you tell me about it because you wanted to scare me away?”
“Who knows? My head’s so damn stupid sometimes.”
Chad laughed. “Well…mine can’t handle you messing with it all the time.”
She cringed. That one stung like an open hand to the face. “I mess with your head?”
Chad looked down at the ground.
“I don’t mean to,” she said.
“Let’s just drop it…I don’t want to go through our routine again.”
“Routine?”
Chad looked at her. His eyes looked watery. Were those tears?
“You know the one—where you explain to me why we can’t keep doing this, sure it’s fun, yes you have feelings for me, but you can’t be with me. Then I have to go through the mental abuse I give myself for caring about you so much, caring for someone who’ll only hurt me in the long run. I blame myself, say it’s my fault why you say those things, and it takes a long time for me to convince myself I didn’t do anything wrong. That routine.”
Heather’s chest felt hollow and cold. Her heart slugged inside. Now it was her eyes that teared up. “Oh…that one.” She sighed, a trail of smoke fluttering out in front of her. “I’m all screwed up in here.” She tapped her forehead with a finger. “Sometimes I think what’s best for me is to lock myself up far away from everybody and just live out my life like a hermit in the hills. Does that make sense?”
“Yeah,” he said.
To most, she figured it wouldn’t. But she believed that Chad completely understood. All he’d seen through his mother’s illness, he was one of the few that actually could get it.
“I was anxious to see you again, Chad. I think this time more than I ever have been. I know I pushed you away more than once. But I think it was a good thing that I did.”
Chad blinked. “A good thing?”
“Think about it. Can you imagine how much more screwed up we’d both be right now if we’d tried to be exclusive back then?”
He let out a long whistle.
Heather smiled. “Big-time bonkers.”
Chad opened his mouth, and Heather knew it was to say he was sorry. “Don’t apologize. You haven’t done anything wrong.”
His mouth slowly closed. “Always know what I’m about to say.”
She shrugged. “Maybe we can just see how things go.”
“Baby steps?”
Heather gave him a single nod. “Baby steps.”
“No more talking about it?”
“For now.”
“Just see where we go?”
“Right.”
He puckered out his bottom lip as if considering whether he should purchase something expensive. In a way, he was. This seemed like a very costly risk, a gamble with very high stakes.
“Are you okay with that?” she asked.
“Yes.”
And she was relieved to know that she truly was as well.
“Then come here,” she said.
Smiling, Chad leaned close. He put his arms around her. She tilted back her head so she could look into his eyes. So close, he was a blurry shape that looked as if he had no eyes. The feel of his solid form was familiar and missed. It felt good having his muscular body pressed against hers again.
Why do I keep trying to convince myself I don’t want this?
She had no reason, and decided maybe she should stop looking for one.
“Want to see what you and
I are like for a while?” he asked.
“Sounds good to me.”
He leaned down, gently pressing his lips against hers.
Ted
Ted tried to read a Brian Moreland book on his Kindle but couldn’t concentrate. There was just too much damn noise coming from upstairs. The squeaks and groans from the bouncing bed kept distracting him, even above the soft hum of the space heater. From the layout of the rooms, he thought it was Shaun’s and Debbie’s room.
He tried not to think about it. Debbie was his cousin. And knowing she was getting her socks rocked off made his stomach churn. It wasn’t like he was trying to hear them, he had no choice. Though the house was durably built from good wood, there was no insulation so the sounds carried through as if all that separated him from the copulation was an open window.
Probably didn’t sound as loud upstairs, but, being right underneath them, all he could hear was that damn bed grating across the floor.
With the only somewhat livable rooms claimed by the others, Ted was forced to sleep on the couch. Lucky for him, it folded out into a decent bed. The mattress was a little thin, but not so much that he could feel the metal rack underneath. It would be fine for the next two weeks.
He swiped the Kindle’s screen to return to the previous page. He’d already forgotten what happened and needed to read it again. Focusing his eyes on the words, he started rereading the first paragraph.
The wind outside gusted against the house, faintly howling as it caused the window to pop in its frame. Groaning, the walls settled back into place.
Wind’s really picking up out there.
Maybe they would get that snow tomorrow.
Lowering the Kindle, he ran a hand through his hair. It felt oily and left the tips of his fingers a little slick when he brought them back. He raised his arm and lowered his nose down to his armpit. He sniffed. A faint whiff of sweat hit his nostrils. Grimacing, he let his arm drop back down on the mattress.
Shower. He needed to shower immediately. He’d tried twice tonight already, and each time someone had already beaten him to it and was hogging all the hot water. Maybe by now everyone else had had their turns and he could take one.
Wait until the bed stops shaking.
As if knowing he was thinking about it, a deep scraping sound resonated from above. He sighed.
“Fantastic,” he muttered.
Ted checked the time on the Kindle and saw it was close to eleven. He was surprised by how tired he felt. Sure, the day had gotten an early start, but he shouldn’t be this exhausted. The thought of having to walk upstairs seemed like too much work. It needed to be done, though. He’d really stink in the morning if he didn’t wash himself tonight.
“Sorry,” he said to Moreland’s story on the screen. “I’ll get back to you.”
He tossed the Kindle onto the mattress and sat up. Massaging the back of his neck with his fingers, he worked at the tense muscles where it hurt. He turned his head so he could reach lower.
His eyes landed on the window.
And spotted the face smeared across the glass, peering in with wild eyes.
“Shit!” said Ted with a start.
He recoiled as if someone had slapped him. His hand jerked way from his neck.
The window was empty. Nobody was there.
Ted stared at the glass. The tic-tac-toe display of panes reflected the room back at him. He could see the lamp on the end table beside the couch, glowing in the dark glass. His eyes didn’t blink, only stared as if being stretched, at the window. He waited a couple more seconds and the face didn’t reappear.
Maybe I didn’t see one.
He did see it. He was certain. A girl’s face was pushed against the glass, squishing her nose and lips. She’d looked grotesque from how the window compressed her features.
And now she was gone.
Ted kicked the blanket away. His shoes were on the floor beside the couch. He pushed his feet into them as he stood up. Hurrying to the coatrack beside the door, he located his on the backside. Steph’s was draped next to it. He caught a whiff of her perfume as he pulled his down. He pushed his arms into the sleeves, tempted to go upstairs and tell the others what he’d seen.
If he’d seen her.
He imagined the others coming out of their rooms.
“What’s wrong, Ted?” asked Heather.
“I saw somebody at the window!”
“Who?”
What would he say? If he were to accurately describe the scary thing, they’d want to know more, possibly want to know what he was doing when he thought he saw it.
“Reading a book,” he’d say.
“What kind of book?” somebody would ask, probably Shaun.
“A horror book.”
And that would be the end of it.
Maybe the book did put the image in his head, made him think he saw a girl outside.
There was no goddamn girl in the book, so it couldn’t have forced me to see one.
Unless she’d actually been there.
Ted felt a scurry of spider legs up his back. His scalp went cold and tingly.
If she was really outside, why am I going out there?
That was a question worth brooding over for a moment.
What he came up with was this: she might need help.
He zipped his coat. On his way out, he grabbed one of the four flashlights sitting facedown on the mantel above the key rack. He slowly pulled the door back to keep the hinges from griping. He slipped through a small gap in the screen door and gently shut it back so it wouldn’t slam.
Wind flung his clothes against his body, ruffling his hair. Cold air shot into his ears, stinging them. Wincing against the brutal cold, he tugged the hood of his coat over his head. It helped, though not much.
Ted could hear the soft scrapes of leaves scattering across the yard. Clicking on the light, he swept the beam this way and that, landing on the cars. The glare bounced off the windows. They seemed okay. Neither had been broken into. He hadn’t expected they would be. Had somebody smashed the glass, alarms would have gone off.
From the porch, he could see the small knob of dimming embers from their bonfire. It was almost completely dead, but still looked like a demon’s eye.
Pulling his eyes away from the ash, he carefully climbed down the stairs. His feet crunched over the gravel of the driveway as he walked farther out. He passed the cars and left them behind.
The flashlight cut a narrow slit through the darkness. Curling fingers of fog seemed to be rising from the moist brown grass, making a pale floor ahead of him. He checked for shapes scurrying about, but didn’t see any.
He swept the light to his right. All that showed at the end of the bright trail were woods, thinning trees with tobacco-colored leaves rattling on the branches.
“Hello?” he whispered. He walked around the backside of the house. “Where’d you go?”
Footsteps whispered through the brittle grass to his left. He jerked the light and saw no one. “Are you there? It’s okay, I won’t hurt you. Do you need help?”
He listened. All he could hear were the ghostly howls of the wind as it channeled through the woods, rustling the leaves, causing acorns to make little tapping sounds as they fell.
Ted headed toward the front, keeping close to the house, his left shoulder lightly grazing the wood. Each time he heard a scuffle or a crunch he aimed the light at it, but never spotted anything that could have caused it.
Though he saw nobody, he could feel somebody watching. He didn’t know why he felt that way, but it caused the thin hairs on the nape of his neck to become erect. His arms tingled under the heavy sleeves of his coat.
The more he tried to convince himself he’d imagined the face, the more he couldn’t. He paused at the window and peered in. He could see the couch, the mattress unfolded. The
blankets were bunched in the center of the bed where he’d thrown them. The door slowly turned back, the wind nudging it open. Apparently he’d forgotten to close it before shutting the screen door. All the heat was escaping.
Standing in this spot, he could see smudges on the glass. Something had left the prints. They couldn’t have come from nothing. He wished he would have looked at the window earlier so he could know for sure if they’d been there all along. He doubted they had.
Ted felt a deeper chill working its way through him, one that wasn’t caused by the wind.
Somebody was watching me.
Hands gripped his shoulders.
With a shout, Ted spun around, swinging the flashlight. He saw a flicker of movement dodging the flashlight. His arm was snatched and yanked forward. A shoulder slammed his gut and hoisted him up.
Ted flipped over, landing hard on his back. Cold from the ground seeped through his clothes. The stars scattered across the sky seemed to be dancing, wiggling as his vision tried to settle.
“Damn…” a familiar voice, “…you scared the hell out of me, Ted!”
“Stu…Steph?” He coughed. It was hard to breathe.
She crouched next to him, putting a hand on his chest. “I thought you were a peeper.”
“Me?” He sucked in a breath that sounded like air leaking from a balloon. “I thought you were.”
“Are you crazy? I came to see you and saw the damn door wide open. Didn’t you hear me calling for you?”
“For me? No!”
Steph laughed. “When I came around and saw you standing here, I thought…well…”
“Couldn’t you tell it was me?”
“No. All I saw was your shape.” She sighed. “Let me help you sit up.”
She pulled him into an upright sitting position. His legs were extended in front of him. He felt a little nauseated.
“That’s a pretty devastating move you got there,” he said, taking the first deep breath his lungs had allowed. It felt like tiny hairs were floating around his chest.
“Sorry. Five years of self-defense classes.”
“They worked.”
“I hope so. They cost me enough.”
Ted felt around the ground and his fingers bumped the flashlight. He tried to cut it on, but it didn’t work. “Great. Busted the light.”
The Lurking Season Page 10