On Tenterhooks

by Greever Williams

  “No, ma’am,” said Martin. “Thank you, though.”

  “You have a beautiful home,” remarked Veronica, admiring the rock fireplace.

  “Thank you,” said Susan.

  “Now,” said Jack. “Can someone please tell me what is going on here?”

  “Jack, these people came a long way to talk about Zack and Abby and some kind of chain letter or something?”

  “I see,” said Jack, voice low.

  “No, not exactly a chain letter,” Steve answered. “I think maybe I’d better back up a little bit, if you don’t mind?”

  “Please,” answered Jack.

  “First of all, I’d like to thank you for inviting us in,” began Steve. “I know you don’t know us from Adam. In fact, a few days ago, the three of us didn’t even know each other, so, I’ll ask you to bear with us if this story sounds a little bizarre.”

  “Of course, Mr. Connor, and you must also understand that if your visit here today upsets my wife or daughter in any way, I reserve the right to throw you out of here if or when I see the need.”

  “Daddy! I am not upset! I—!”

  “Abby!” said Susan, grabbing Abby’s arm. “Let your father lead this discussion!”

  “But it’s not a discussion! They just got here, and already you’re trying to run them out!”

  Jack closed his eyes and shook his head. When he opened his eyes, he smiled tentatively at Steve and breathed a large, cleansing breath.

  “Please understand, Mr. Connor, my family has been through a lot this year. It has affected each of us deeply. Clearly, my daughter wants you here, for reasons I assume you will be explaining to us soon. But let me be perfectly clear with you. If any of you do anything that turns this from a polite conversation into a confrontation, I will remove you bodily from this house, regardless of any protest from my daughter. Are we clear?” he looked at each of them as they nodded.

  He turned to Abby.

  “Are we clear?”

  She flung herself back against the couch cushions. “Fine,” she mumbled, as she chewed on her lower lip.

  “Good. Now, let’s continue please.”

  “I assure you, Mr. Nikko,” said Steve, “we mean no disrespect to your family or your loss. You will not have to toss us out. I would just like the opportunity to explain our situation, even if the story sounds a little far-fetched. But, believe me, we do not want any trouble.”

  “Excellent. Then we are already in agreement on at least one thing,” Jack smiled.

  Abby sighed loudly from the couch. Steve decided to charge ahead.

  “Back in February, my wife was killed in a car accident. It has been. . .difficult. . .for me to adjust to losing her. Well, to be honest with you, it has been a tremendous struggle for me to get out of bed in the morning. We were deeply in love, and I had crafted my world around her and us. Until the moment I got a phone call telling me she was dead, it had never even crossed my mind that we would ever be separated, by anything.”

  Steve paused. He was struggling. Should he let them see how much it hurt? Could he even control it if he kept talking? The Nikkos were rapt. Martin and Veronica had not heard him talk with this much rawness about Julie, so they also paid very close attention. He continued.

  “Anyway, after she was gone, I basically became a shut-in. I was off from work for nearly five weeks. I stayed in the house, but it was torture. Everywhere I looked, she was still there. Every simple thing in my house became a memory. I was . . . lost.”

  He fought the tears. He chuckled.

  “One night, I wandered into our closet. I took all her clothes off the hangers. I was gonna throw them all out. I dunno, I guess I was thinking that’d make it better somehow. I couldn’t do it. Instead, I made a big pile of them on the floor and sat there, smelling them because they still smelled like her perfume and her shampoo.”

  Steve removed his glasses and wiped his eyes. “I fell asleep there. I fell asleep sniffing a heap of clothes.”

  He felt the heat in his face. Veronica slid closer and put her arm around him. Abby wept, and Susan’s faced softened as Steve related his pain.

  “Shhh,” said Veronica soothingly. “Stop Steve, you don’t have to do this.”

  “Yeah. Why don’t you take over for a minute and let me catch my breath, okay?”

  “Sure,” said Martin. “I can relate to Steve’s story in many ways. Several weeks ago, I lost my only child, my daughter, Maggie. She was the light of our world. She was in college, and my ex-wife and I could not have been more proud of her and her accomplishments. Ever since my wife and I separated, Maggie had been the true center of my universe. I suppose I may have doted on her and spoiled her a bit, like any self-respecting father would do. . .”

  Martin looked at Jack, who gave him a slight smile and a nod.

  “I tried to get away from the pharmacy on weekends and spend time with her. We’d go to dinner or the movies or the home football games together. I did my best to get out of there in the early evenings, so as not to cramp her ‘young adult’ lifestyle. She had dozens of friends calling and texting, a pile of standing party invitations and enough classwork to kill a bull moose. But, she always made time for Dad. That was her style — subtle but always thoughtful. Then one Sunday morning, her roommate found her on her bed. She had overdosed. . .on sleeping pills. No warning signs, no cries for help. Just poof. . .and she was gone. . .”

  Martin looked at each of the Nikkos, in turn.

  “And now, well. . .here I am. Not sure where we are going exactly, and not sure what we’ll find when we get there. But for the first time in weeks, I don’t feel like I’m wanderin’ in the wilderness.”

  Martin heaved a sigh and looked at Veronica.

  “And I lost my mother,” said Veronica, taking her cue. “She and I were distant for many years before she died. She was SCUBA diving when she died. She had a heart attack. Diving was something I didn’t even know she knew how to do, or even wanted to try. And I’m an avid diver. I keep thinking she was maybe doing it to try to get close to me again. . .like we were when I was a kid. But I don’t know for sure. I guess I never will, huh?”

  Abby was nodding, tears in her eyes.

  “Death is pretty final that way,” Veronica continued. “No chance of reconciliation, just a lot of questions. I tried to tell myself that the questions were gonna have to go away on their own. But, they’re still here with me. I can tone them down from time to time, but they haven’t gone away. They’ve just quieted down a bit. Her death has made me reexamine a lot about my own life and what I want to do with it.”

  She ended it there. Jack was leaning forward in his seat, chin in his hand. He looked at each of them appraisingly.

  “Guys, I believe you. I understand where you are. Believe me, I can relate. But I don’t get it. Abby said that you were from out of town. I am guessing they have support groups wherever you’re from. Why did you come here?”

  “I am from Charlotte, and yes, I do have support groups at home,” Steve said. “But that’s not why we came to see you.” He pulled the familiar letter out of his back pocket. “About a week ago, I finally went back to work. As I was going through all the mail I got while I was out, I found this note.”

  He stood and handed it across the coffee table to Jack. While Jack read, Steve focused his conversation on Abby and Susan. “It’s like an advertisement, for this website called Say Goodbye to Me. It’s a place where you can send a final letter to a loved one who has died. Or at least that’s what the note says. I chalked it up to some weird internet scam, and figured the timing of its landing on my desk was just coincidence.”

  He shrugged. “Later on, I couldn’t sleep, so I was looking through the stack of work mail I had brought home and that letter showed up again. I didn’t even remember bringing it home. I was bored, lonely, or desperate. A little of all three I guess.”

  Jack finished scanning the letter and reluctantly passed it to Abby’s waiting hand.

  “S
o I sent my wife a note. I know, it sounds funny, even now when the words come out. But late at night alone in a big empty house, everything gets kinda funny. So yeah, I sent her a note, nothing big. I told her how much I missed her and things like that.”

  He nodded along with his own words. “The next day, there was another note in my office. Only this one was different. Someone had handwritten this one. It looked like my wife had written it. It was very personal. . .and it was a direct response to what I had submitted on that website. What’s more, it had things in it, other things that only my wife would know.”

  He stood and wandered behind the couch. “Simply put, it freaked me out. I am a computer guy for a bank, so I was pretty certain I’d become a victim of identity theft or some kind of cybercrime. It made me very, very paranoid.”

  Tapping the back of the couch for emphasis, he continued, “I did some digging on this Say Goodbye to Me outfit and didn’t turn up much of anything until I found this list. That was it. Four names and some info.”

  He walked around the couch and passed the list to Jack, who accepted and scanned it, and then passed it to Abby. Susan read over her daughter’s shoulder. “Did you contact the police?” she asked.

  “No. I had no proof of anything illegal. I wanted to try to pin something on someone with hard evidence, before I got the authorities involved. Frankly, I was afraid if the police started sniffing around, the scammers would just pack up shop and move on. I couldn’t let that happen. I wanted justice for the opportunistic bastard who used Julie’s death as a free meal ticket at my expense.”

  Jack nodded. “What do you think they’re after?”

  “Well,” admitted Steve, “that’s the part I can’t explain. I was pretty sure of my theory until I contacted Martin here. He had a similar experience, but came away with a very different view of things.”

  “That I did,” said Martin. “I got the same strange note at work. It seemed to appear out of nowhere on my pharmacy counter one day. Like Steve, I figured the timing was just coincidental or somebody was playing a sick joke or something. But I got into the lonely house syndrome myself, and I sent my own note in to the website too. One day after I sent it, my daughter spoke to me.”

  The Nikkos all stared at Martin.

  “Excuse me?” said Jack.

  “I operate a HAM radio stack for a hobby. I was at my console, and I heard Maggie right through the headphones. She came through loud and clear, just like she was standing there next to me. Based on what she said, it was obvious she’d read my letter. She told me to be strong and that she was sorry for leaving me. It was my daughter. I couldn’t talk back to her, but I am certain that it was Mags, and there was no fishy business involved.”

  Abby was nodding at his words. Martin paused and tried to make eye contact with everyone in the room, as if daring them to refute his statement. No one did.

  “So, you think it’s a scam,” said Jack, looking at Steve. “And you think it is legit,” turning to Martin. “And how about you?” he asked Veronica. “What do you think?”

  “Well, I did get that same first note. Only it came to me as an email, not a letter. I deleted it, figuring it for spam. I hadn’t given it another thought until these two showed up at my office with their story.”

  “I did some digging, using that list,” said Steve, gesturing to the slip of paper on the coffee table between them. “I looked up the other three names. Martin was first. I flew up to see him in Virginia, and after we discussed what had happened to us a bit, what we decided has led us here.”

  “They hopped on a plane and hounded me at work,” continued Veronica. “I never sent a note, so I had no idea what they were talking about. But when they told me what they knew about my mom’s death — how she really died—it was a red flag. Because of that list, Martin and Steve knew things that only I and the police in Mexico knew . . . things my family didn’t even know. And after I had a run in with the preacher they warned me about, I was on board, at least to learn enough to keep myself safe from whatever it is.”

  At the mention of the preacher, Susan and Jack exchanged a glance.

  “You’ve seen him, too, then?” Martin asked.

  “No,” said Susan, hesitating. “We haven’t . . . but Abby’s school called us earlier this week. There was a man dressed as a preacher there, asking to see Abby.”

  “Mom! Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Calm down, Abby,” said Jack. “Your mom and I saw no reason to upset you. For all we knew, it was a harmless local pastor checking up on you.”

  “He’s not harmless!” Abby shrieked. “He’s in my dreams. I see him all the time!”

  “He’s not harmless,” Veronica echoed. “There is something wrong about him. I can’t explain it, but he feels just . . . wrong. I can’t tell you any more than that, but I have seen him twice now, and each time it’s as if I am in some poisonous gas cloud or something. I have a panic attack.”

  “He’s been in my dreams, too. And when I see him in real life, he twists my insides all up,” Martin chimed in. “We saw him this morning before we left LaGuardia. When we were close to him, I thought I was gonna be sick to my stomach.”

  “I’ve seen him twice now in real life,” said Steve. “He was just like he is in my dreams—tall, skeletal, with translucent skin. He barely looks human. I have no idea what he has to do with all of this, but he seems to be following us. He talked to me, but he only seems to want to twist a knife in me. It’s like he knows I’m hurting, and he likes it that way.”

  Susan rose from the couch, “I am calling the police.”

  “Susan,” said Jack. “What are you going to tell them? That you want them put out an alert on some mysterious preacher who seems to be popping up in dreams?”

  “So what then, Jack? You want to wait until he shows up at our doorstep? I’m not ready to take that chance!”

  Jack softened his voice, “Think about it. No laws have been broken, and you can’t go off half-cocked with a crazy story like this from complete strangers.”

  “No offense,” he continued, looking at the group.

  “None taken,” replied Steve automatically.

  “Does anybody want to hear my part of things here?” said Abby. She continued without waiting for an answer. “This is not a crazy story. The same things have happened to me.”

  Susan sat back down on the couch, the telephone still in her left hand. “You mean you got that letter too?” she asked.

  “Got it and sent a message of my own,” replied Abby, nodding. “And I got a response too.”

  She pulled a folded piece of paper out of the back pocket of her jeans and handed it to her mother, who put the phone down to use both of her trembling hands to unfold the paper. Jack stood up and moved around behind her to read over her shoulder.

  “I—,” Susan began. She looked at Abby, tears welling in her eyes. “I don’t understand. This is from . . . Zack?”

  Abby nodded. She was weeping silently.

  “No, it isn’t,” said Jack, but with little conviction.

  “Yes, Dad,” said Abby, putting her hand on his arm. “It is. Look at it.” She pointed to the paper. “He called me Gabbsalot. When’s the last time you heard that?”

  She turned to Steve, Veronica and Martin. “That was his nickname for me. He was the only one who ever called me that.”

  Steve looked at Martin. “Just like yours,” he said.

  “Snugglebug,” whispered Martin, nodding.

  “It’s Zack,” said Abby. “I know it is. He wrote back! And I think that preacher you all are seeing has been at the center of a nightmare I seem to have every time I try to sleep lately. It’s the same thing!”

  Steve saw the tears welling in the girl’s eyes.

  Susan was openly weeping now. “I am sorry,” she struggled. “But I just can’t handle this right now.” She stood and left the room, flinging Abby’s note onto the couch. Her wails echoed down the front hall as she stumbled up the stairs.
/>   “Mom!” Abby cried.

  To Steve, Jack looked to be on the edge of tears himself. He picked up the note to read it again. Without looking up, he spoke to them. “I’m afraid I will have to ask you to leave now.”

  “Dad? No! Don’t you want to know what they know?”

  “Mr. Nikko, please,” said Steve. “We just want to talk to Abby and see if we can piece this thing together. It will only take a few minutes-.”

  “I will only say this politely one more time,” replied Jack, through clenched teeth. “You need to leave, now.”

  “No. With all due respect, I lost the love of my life. I want to know why. I am here to get some answers. I’ve been chasing those answers across the whole goddamn country and have probably lost my job in the process. Those answers led me here, to your daughter, and I want to know what the hell is going on!”