by Clare Hexom
Caleb bobbed his head. “He can.”
“Who does he look like?”
“Like a man. He keeps knocking but I can’t open the window. It’s locked.”
Goosebumps tingled my arms.
“Caleb, we never open a window or a door for a stranger. We’ve talked about strangers before.”
He balled his hands into fists. “You never hear me!” His voice was deep, throaty as Judith’s had been.
My heart froze.
His body started shaking. His own voice returned loud and demanding. “I told you. He’s cold! He’s getting all wet!”
“Look here, Caleb. Nobody is opening any windows for a stranger, whether they’re real or in a dream.”
“I am not dreaming!”
“I didn’t say you were. Exactly.” Nor did I believe he had a nightmare. “Crawl back into bed. You’ll sleep with me tonight.”
He pulled himself to his feet and rubbed his eyes. “Look out the window. Make sure he’s okay.”
“After you’re tucked in.”
He jumped into bed and pulled the covers up onto his chest. I stepped over to the window and lifted the curtain. Two red palms laid flat against the glass. I fell backwards to the floor. Backlight from the bathroom illuminated bright red liquid dripping down the window.
My mouth went dry. Caleb busied himself tucking in Edgar and Monster. I scooted on my hip over to the window and rested my back against the wall. Using my finger, I pushed pack the curtain’s edge again. Clear rainwater rolled down.
“Mommy!”
My voice was too weak to answer.
“Did you fall?”
I shook my head, took in a deep breath. I had to file the fright fast—under the heading “Nightmares Caused by Chad Stress” or “Judith’s Gruesome Mind Games.”
After taking a few moments to recover, I got up and flicked off the bathroom light. I kissed Caleb goodnight. He seemed to have already forgotten the man at the window.
Judith would understand these strange occurrences, whether imagined or real. And either she cared enough to protect us or we were tools in her conjuring. I now believed we had simply entered the eye of the storm when we left Tennessee. A greater storm was circling around us. Troublesome thoughts about killings and death rolled around my head until I fell into a restless sleep.
Two uneventful days passed, and no more nightly visitations. It seemed the entity chose not to disturb me more than he already had. Mom spoke only when necessary. She put on a calm front and donned a cheery face for Caleb’s sake. I did the same for the sake of her party guests.
Judith arrived first on Sunday. She knew better than to approach Caleb without being told. He accepted without fuss my insistence that he avoid her completely. I told him she wasn’t well. No further explanation was necessary.
She surprised us with “welcome home” gifts—for me, a pair of leather gloves and a soft, gray plaid scarf with lines of burgundy and navy. She brought Caleb a book about a frisky black-and-tan puppy she claimed looked exactly like one of her dogs.
Perhaps she had paid attention to the puzzle he’d chosen to put together with Mom two weeks earlier and when I hung my new navy coat in the front closet on Thursday. I pictured her sneaking a peek at my coat before rushing off to the mall with loving intentions despite my having banned her from Mom’s house. I shook off my guilt and reminded myself how much her behavior had terrified my child.
She parked herself in the overstuffed chair in the farthest corner of the living room and assumed the role of sullen observer. Her gray clothes blended into the upholstery well enough that at a glance it was nearly impossible to distinguish her from the chair. Her persistent looks, along with her pretentious smile, inferred she knew I had encountered her presence again.
Uncle Tommy unknowingly rescued me from her stares when he snapped open a folding chair beside her. From my vantage point in the dining room, I saw he engaged her well enough to divert attention from me. I turned and faced the wall of windows on the other side of the dining room table.
The other guests mingled as normal people do. Many already knew each other. And everyone enjoyed the luncheon. Apart from a few relatives, neighbors, and close family friends, there were several guests I barely knew and a few I’d just met.
A man coughed out a laugh behind me. I stopped fidgeting with the floral centerpiece and nonchalantly glanced over my shoulder. My cousin Will. He’d made no attempt to disguise his alcohol breath before he arrived. He splashed his drink when he plopped down on the sofa beside Elaine Engstrom’s single daughter.
Ronnie stepped behind me from the kitchen and offered a goblet matching the one she held in her hand, half full of crimson wine. “I brought you a bit of liquid courage.”
“Thank you.” I took the stem and lifted the glass. “A pleasant reprieve.”
She shrugged. “Rick sent me. He says you’ve been noticeably absent from the festivities.”
“I’ve been socializing.”
“I see.” Her eyebrows lifted. “All by yourself at the buffet table.”
“A gathering place.”
Ronnie bent her head and whispered. “I counted seventy-seven, but I probably missed a few.”
“Amazing.” I chuckled. “Three weeks ago, I didn’t know seventy-seven people, including my dental clients.”
“The boys roped the guys into a ping pong match. You ought to go down and watch.”
“I will.”
“Caleb is good.”
“As was Ben. I’m glad you’re here.” I gave her a sideways hug. “Caleb would call you the bestest.”
“Ha! He already has. So you got the job. Congratulations.”
“I did. I nailed the interview.”
“Of course you did. When do you start?”
“Tomorrow morning for a few hours.”
“That’s fast. I’m happy for you. So, tell me what kind of impression Sam made on you.”
“A good one. He is perfect for you and I love his accent— smooth.”
“Too bad . . .” she paused and looked away.
“You were going to say, ‘Too bad Ben isn’t here.’”
“I’m sorry, Mallory. That was insensitive.”
“Don’t be. I like talking about Ben. For years I kept him all to myself.
“Talking does release bottled-up emotions.” She winked and sipped her wine.
She had no idea the bottled-up emotions I stored. Since hearing the bike pass our house each day with few exceptions, the return of those romantic moods surprised me. I covered a small plate with hors d’oeuvres.
“Eating for comfort. Yet you stay thin.”
“Keeping up with a little boy helps.”
“You need to call them.” Ronnie sipped from her glass.
“Call who?”
“The Hollands. We’ll drive up one Friday or Saturday. Email pictures first. Ease them into the fact they have a grandson before showing up at their front door. He looks a lot like Ben. Might be a shocker seeing him for the first time.”
“Right. Hi there, folks, here’s Caleb!” I laughed easily and spontaneously with her.
“I’m getting drunk,” she chortled.
“On a Sunday afternoon at your friend’s mother’s house. Tell Sam to quit working long hours. You need a life. In fact, I need a life. Let’s plan a girl’s night out.”
“Sounds good.” She handed me a napkin. “I’m always game for a night out.”
My enthusiasm renewed. “Dinner. You, Dana, me.”
Her expression dulled. She picked up a bacon-wrapped artichoke from my plate and bit it in half.
“Well?”
“You know,” she said reflectively. “I’ve left Sam alone too long. He’s sociable, but he is the new kid on the block. Join me downstairs. Your sister-in-law needs company with all those matronly friends of your mother’s down there. That Elaine, though, she’s a hoot. My mom and I love her already.”
Sam had been quiet until the party was in
full swing but he was doing fine on his own. The jokes between him, my brother, and Ed King flew nonstop. Her using him as an excuse to change the subject felt wrong. She had sidetracked our conversation away from Dana again and was not ready to share the reason why.
“All right, then.” I set my plate on the butler’s trolley. “Downstairs it is. And I get it. No activities with Dana.”
Ronnie looked askance at me. She said nothing.
“I should check on Caleb anyway. He had a restless night.” I started walking toward the downstairs staircase. Ronnie followed.
“Kids his age have bad dreams.”
“He’s adjusting to a new home, new school.” I kept the hauntings to myself, although each time we met I felt tempted, no, prompted to tell her.
She stopped mid-step and held my arm for me to wait. “Here’s an idea. We invite Natalie on our girl’s night.”
“We can do that.”
Later in the afternoon, Rick and I walked Brent and Christine out to the sidewalk before they left for home. Gavin and Caleb chased each other around the front yard. During my son’s first week at school, the boys became fast friends, sharing their mutual love of dinosaurs. Gavin having an English bulldog named Sadie was another sell for Caleb.
Brent gestured to the black van pulling up behind the line of cars parked on the street. “More company.”
We turned and looked across the lawn to the curb bordering his parents’ property. They excused themselves and collected Gavin for their walk home.
Rick and I strolled toward the van but Caleb lagged behind. The man behind the steering wheel waved and the passenger stared straight ahead. As we closed the distance, the driver’s door opened.
Erik Fowler stood up outside the van, tall enough to see over the door. He grimaced when he saw us. “Mallory, Rick! Good to see you again.” He managed a feeble smile.
He slid open the back door and a delicate girl with long and curly, strawberry-blonde hair hopped out. Erik scooped her into his arms and deposited her on the lawn verge beside the curb.
Dana lingered in the van with her phone glued to her ear. Keeping the driver’s door opened wide, Erik leaned in and spoke with her.
I stooped down and called the little girl over to us. She ran to me without hesitation. “You must be Emma. I’m Mallory and this is my brother, Rick.”
“Hi Emma,” said Rick.
She looked up at him with a clumsy smile spreading across her face.
“We’ve known your mommy and daddy for a long time,” I told her.
Her smile improved and she bobbed her head.
Caleb was picking at the bark of the silver maple in the front yard. I called out and waved for him to join us.
“This is my son, Caleb. He’s six.” I wrapped my arm around him and pulled him into our small circle.
Both children stared at each other in silence, shyly waiting for us grownups to give them direction as to what they should do or say. Dana hadn’t left the van yet, her phone still pressed against her ear. Erik was talking at her.
Coaxing. Pleading?
The mist segued into drizzle. I grew impatient to get the children indoors. I reasoned the call must be important rather than yielding to the idea she was being downright rude.
“I’ve had enough,” said Rick. He started jogging back to the house and whistled. “Caleb! Come on!”
He ran to catch up.
Erik shut the driver’s door and joined us on the lawn.
“Dana is just finishing a call.” He took Emma’s hand.
She pulled back and stomped her feet. “No!”
“It’s raining, Emma. Come with Daddy.”
“No!” She latched onto my sweater.
“Go on, Erik. Meet up with Rick in the house. I’ll bring her.”
The van’s passenger door swung open. A black stiletto ankle boot dropped onto the curb and Dana exited the van. She snapped open a black umbrella, then tiptoed across the soggy lawn to where we stood. She enfolded her free arm around me. Words spilled out in a melodious twitter.
“Mallory honey, you’re dressed very smart today. All recovered from your fender-bender with the lamppost?”
Emma watched her mother from behind my leg.
“I am. Any more headaches?”
She tilted her head and stared down at Emma, her expression bland. “Not today.” She peered at me with an uncomfortable hint of disapproval. “Let’s go inside before this weather ruins your hair more than it already has.”
She snatched Emma’s dangling hand as though she were gripping the scruff of an unruly pup. She yanked the child to hurry along up the sidewalk, the steps, and onto the front porch. It was a “keep up the pace, kid, or I’ll smack you” kind of a yank. She listed to the right when she paused to close her umbrella.
Tipsy.
I subtly smoothed the back of my hair and blindly primped the sides.
Imagine her showing up plastered to a gathering for family and friends.
Unlike my cousin, Dana masked her telltale breath well. I amused myself thinking she should share her oral hygiene secrets with him.
Across the living room Erik leaned back on a folding chair beside Will, one leg crossed over the other. He already held a glass tumbler half filled with a coppery liquid and a couple of ice cubes. Will paid him little mind, continuing to flirt with Elaine’s daughter. Erik smiled and listened.
Emma spotted her father without delay. She tugged until she pulled loose from Dana and didn’t stop running until she scrambled onto her father’s lap.
Mom as good as skipped across the living room from where she’d been standing near the staircase visiting with a small group of friends.
“Dana Norris!”
“Dana Fowler, Mrs. Bain.” She greeted Mom with a hug.
“Old habits die hard. You haven’t changed a bit. Pretty as ever.”
“Thank you, and thank you for inviting us.”
“You and Erik are two of Mallory’s dearest friends. You mean the world to her.”
“How sweet.” Dana’s smile widened. “I can’t wait to meet Caleb.”
“Caleb?” Mom’s smile slipped into a frown. I noticed but let it go. “Well, he’s downstairs with the other children.”
“There’s plenty of time to meet him. Enjoy the buffet first,” I said.
“Please do, and Mallory dear, offer Dana a beverage, and if you don’t mind, take a minute to slice a few cucumbers and mushrooms. I have the caterer busy downstairs.” Mom looked at Dana again and quieted. She wrinkled her forehead, making me presume she, too, detected that whiff of piney gin.
Dana followed me into the kitchen while sipping her goblet of merlot. I went about depositing the cucumbers on paper towels and spilling the mushrooms into a colander. She slid onto one of the rattan stools at the breakfast bar and watched me between sips of wine. I noticed the tip of a reddened scratch on her neck that she undoubtedly meant to hide under the turtleneck.
Dana laughed quietly, but nervously tugged at her collar. “Fascinating how cucumbers and mushrooms are the ones needing replenishing.”
“Mushrooms are good, except Caleb hates them.” I selected a knife from the block on the counter. “I think a salad is incomplete without them.”
I glimpsed Judith studying us from across the kitchen. She stood in the death place near the dining room doorway. When our eyes met, she shot me a guarded look before retreating into the dining room. Moments later, the kitchen door scraped closed.
“Excuse me a minute, Dana.”
She lifted a mushroom slice to her lips. “Take your time.”
I dashed into the living room to watch out the front window. Judith slipped inside her car, which was parked on the street. Seconds later, she missed hitting the red motorcycle as it emerged from behind the Petersons’ hedgerow. I craned my neck for a better look. The rider swerved but recovered. He rolled the bike onto our driveway apron and paused. He flipped up his face shield and looked up the driveway toward the garag
e.
It was impossible to tell whether or not he was as good-looking as Pam had said. I thought to run out the front door and down to the curb to thank him for stopping on Thursday. Without question, his gesture deserved a moment of my time as well as my appreciation for his concerns about a fire. I thought he’d seen me when I threw open the front door, yet he dropped his face shield, circled his bike back onto the street, and roared away. I returned to Dana frustrated over the missed opportunity.
“My aunt had to leave.”
“Is she all right?”
“Of course,” I lied. More importantly at the moment, I wanted to meet the man on the bike. “Ronnie will be surprised to see you again.” I wasn’t exactly lying about that.
We brought the sliced vegetables to the buffet table, and Dana selected a sampling of food for herself and refilled her glass. She left feeding Emma to her husband.
Her mouth turned upward at the corner. “It seems Erik’s business card fell out of your pocket and your mom found it.”
I slid the cucumbers onto the serving platter. “I’m glad she did. Having your family here is a nice surprise. He must have told you we bumped into each other.”
Dana raised her well-shaped brow, implying he hadn’t. “He did.”
“He had a good time kicking around the soccer ball with Caleb.”
She sniffled a small laugh.
The obscure voice whispered in my ear, “Pay attention. Question her.”
“Sounds like the downstairs crowd is having the most fun,” I blurted out, hoping my whisperer would leave.
“Stairs off the kitchen and a hallway to a den and some other rooms.”
“You remember.”
“I once spent a lot of time here.”
We made our way down the steps.
“Erik mentioned Jack Harwood ended up living in Europe,” I said.
“And elsewhere. Traveling, sniffing out a good story. You know Jack, forever researching the books on world politics he wanted to write.”
I failed to recall he wanted to write such books. News, yes. Articles, yes. She had dated him, so she would know him better.
“Glad he’s alive and well.”
She frowned and her eyes opened wide. “As far as we know.” I heard tension in her voice. She paused. “I hope you haven’t heard differently.”