by DD Cooper
I tried to brush those thoughts away as I drank my cup of tea, but just couldn’t. I observed Jack talking to his brother Hunter and I fell in love with him all over again. It was good he had family to rely on, though they didn’t know everything about him, except for his mother of course, who he hated for good reason. I put my hand on his thigh under the table to comfort him and he caressed it with his hand, as if saying “thank you” for being there. I lost myself in thought as they talked about what Hunter was up to. Playing shows, trying to get a record deal without his brother’s help. They talked about Aidan and how he never met the right guy. Then they talked about Brandon, and how he would never be able to drive professionally again. How it would crush him, and that he’d need his family’s support.
I listened in when the discussion turned to Hunter’s love life. He said that there was girl, but that he wasn’t bringing her anywhere near Jack, because of what happened last time. Suddenly, my interest perked up remarkably.
“What happened? I asked, interjecting myself in their conversation.
Hunter looked like he’d just made a huge mistake and wanted to take it back. “Oh, man, it’s better if Jack tells you I guess.”
I looked at Jack, suddenly feeling the urge to take my hand back, but his was still on mine and it would be a little awkward. “Let’s just say that I showed him that he could do better,” Jack said, but I could see something else behind that smile of his.
“Yeah, by fucking her right in this house when I brought her over. Real classy man, real classy,” Hunter said, suddenly the anger a little more pronounced in his voice. He smiled, he laughed, he tried to make light of it, but I could still see that it hurt him. Deeply, perhaps.
“You know I wasn’t myself back then,” he looked back at me. “I was a mess. Drugs, alcohol, pills, you name it, I was on it. And she came on to me!”
I shook my head in disbelief. “That’s really no excuse, Jack. To do that to your own brother?” I took my hand back in disgust. I didn’t care if anybody saw it.
Hunter was quiet. He obviously agreed with me.
“I think I’ll go out for a walk,” I said and headed for the door.
“Shit, see what you did Hunter? Why’d you have to bring all that shit back up, huh?” I heard Jack talking to his brother and I couldn’t help but turn around.
“Thank you, Hunter,” I said. “Jack is the only one who should be feeling ashamed in this situation.”
Hunter nodded, telling me he understood, but said nothing. I left them to argue. I needed some fresh air, and a lot of space to think about what I just found out. It seemed more and more clear that Lucy was more right about Jack than I wanted to admit.
Chapter Twenty-Three
I put on my jacket and made my way out. While it wasn’t quite as bad as the island, at least not the chilly wind, it wasn’t exactly summer out here either. They had a nice wooded area behind the house, so I decided to walk back there. It felt good to be in nature again, away from the noise of the city. It was nice and private, and it reminded me of all the classic novels I read as a child. Where the heroine is stuck in a manor in the middle of nowhere, while the man of the house towers over her like a dark shadow. And then they fall into each other’s arms in the end and are happy forever. What a load of bollocks, as Lucy often said. Poor Lucy, Dead Lucy. I wasn’t here to think about Lucy, I was here to get away from Jack, to try to get the images of him banging his bother’s girlfriend out of my head. I wondered how Hunter had ever forgiven him. I guess blood is blood, and when the person in the wrong has more money, you just kind of accept their bad behavior. I bet he was sent into rehab after that and begged for forgiveness. I guess I could see myself giving him a chance after that as well. But now he was clean and sober, and that kind of behavior would not be excused. I don’t know why I thought about him sneaking behind my back and sleeping with someone else. Maybe because he was the one who brought Rory into our relationship? But I wasn’t all innocent in that either. I was the one who said yes, and in the end enjoyed the experience. I missed Rory right now. If he was here, he would walk right alongside me and understand why I was upset. He’d hold my hand, and maybe we’d even find solace in each other’s arms.
I tried to brush those thoughts away as well. We were as far away from paradise and Rory as we could get. Okay, maybe it could be worse. We could be back at Ravenswood island, which would truly be a terrible ordeal. I walked and walked, the house becoming smaller and smaller in the distance, until I could barely see it through the trees. I came upon a clear water creek and kneeled down by it, watching the water travel downstream. Pure, clean looking water. I rested for a bit, letting the sounds of nature take me away from my problems, as trivial as they seemed. After all, I didn’t know Jack back then, and he didn’t know me, so it seemed a bit silly to be upset about it now. But it did show me something about his character. If he was willing to do that to his own brother, what would he be willing to do to me?
I laid down against the cold ground and closed my eyes and tried to disappear forever, but the solidity of the ground beneath me kept me in the physical world.
“I’m not that person anymore,” I heard a voice above me. Jack. I opened my eyes and saw him standing right above my head. His jeans had a nice bulge that reminded me of some of the good times we had. I reached out for his legs and got hold of his calf muscles. I ran my hands up and down his legs, anchoring myself in something else, someone else, that wasn’t the land beneath us.
“I know,” I said quietly. “I overreacted.”
I watched as Jack looked upon the view in front of him. At the stream, and the trees, and the fields of green.
“I used to love this place as a kid. When anything got too much, or when one of my brothers made me mad, I’d just run out here and hide. Pretend that I was all alone, and that no one could find me.”
“Sounds kind of sad,” I said.
“No,” Jack said, letting out a little laugh. “It was actually quite nice. The thought of being alone out here was what made me stay sane when all the shit hit the fan, so to speak.”
I could see it now. Jack just a boy, of nondescript age, running out here and hiding in nature, letting the outside world disappear for awhile. This was his safe place, and now I knew why I liked it so much.
I closed my eyes and just lost myself in the feel of his jeans, his warmth that was radiating from them.
“We should probably go back,” he finally said. “There’s still some preparations to be made. Gotta make the place wheelchair friendly.”
“Do we have to? Can’t we just stay awhile more?”
Jack kneeled down beside me and caressed my face, and my hair, which was getting muddied in the grass. “You’re so beautiful,” he said and I almost flinched. “You’ll catch a cold if you lay like that. Come here,” he said and he sat down next to me, guiding my head to his lap. I immediately felt safer. His warmth, his smell, it made me realize that the only thing that mattered to me in this world was him, and I never wanted to lose him. That’s why I had overreacted when I heard Hunter’s story. I closed my eyes as Jack caressed my hair, taking bits of grass and leaves out of it.
Eventually, the spell had to break. We walked back to the house, hand in hand, slowly making our way through the trees.
“I love you, Jack,” I said before we entered the house. “Please don’t do anything to hurt me, okay?”
Jack pulled me in close and took my face in his hands. He gave me a deep kiss, the taste of him like cold water on a hot summer day. “I’d never hurt you, Sophie. Never.”
And for now, that was good enough.
I spent the rest of the day watching as Hunter and Jack worked hard to make the house as wheelchair friendly as possible. I asked Jack why they didn’t hire anybody to do it for them as they were sawing a piece of wood to create a makeshift ramp up into the house, and Hunter was the one to answer.
“Why pay someone else to do something we can do ourselves?” He said, as bot
h he and Jack were soaked in sweat, down to their t-shirts despite the coldish weather. I helped when I could. Handing them tools and other such little things. This time I went into the house to get them both some cold beers from the fridge. It felt weird to walk through the house alone, knowing that there was nobody else inside. It was kind of spooky how quiet the house was. It was so quiet I could almost hear Jack and his brothers running around as kids. It gave me the spooks. I quickly made my way to the kitchen and to a piece of modernity: the fridge. Besides modern appliances and the flat screen TV in the living room, the house seemed like something from another era. The kind of house that was bound to have at least a few ghosts attached to it. I told myself to remember to ask Jack about the history of the house. Then I remembered Josie and her journals and the history of Jack’s other property, and thought that maybe I’d better leave it alone. I’d hate to stumble on yet another mystery that ends up in more dead bodies having to be buried. I left that life behind when I left Ravenswood island, and I’d never go back to that if I had any say in it.
I took the beers out to Hunter and Jack, and they were more than grateful. I took a water for myself, because beer was never really my thing. Or alcohol for that matter. I sat down on the front steps and lost myself again, the ghosts of the past trying to haunt me again.
“Are you okay?” Jack asked me. “You look like you’re somewhere far away.”
“I’m fine,” I said. “Thanks for bringing me back.”
I didn’t look forward to spending much time with Jack’s family. It just felt like I was intruding, even if he said he did want me there to keep him sane.
Jack offered to take me to the city again when they were going to get their brother out of the hospital, but I wasn’t feeling up to it so stayed back by myself. Hunter offered to stay with me but I told him he had more important things to worry about. I waved goodbye as they drove away in Hunter’s nice car. I couldn’t tell you the make and model, but I can tell you that it was aesthetically pleasing, for whatever that’s worth. I closed the heavy wooden door behind me and locked it. Pretty soon this house was going to be full of life. Jack, Hunter, Aidan, Brandon, and their mother, Margaret. And then there was me. Now I really wasn’t sure what the hell I was doing here. Maybe I should have stayed back on the island like Jack had suggested, though I knew he really wanted me to come here, and that’s why I did.
I wondered what I’d be doing now if I had stayed on the island. Would I frolic in the pool with Rory, the two of us not being able to take each other’s hands off each other’s bodies. I’d probably feel guilty for not being with Jack while at the same time enjoying Rory’s company. I cared for Rory, but I loved Jack. And that was all I needed to know that I had made the right decision coming here. I walked around the halls, and refrained from opening any doors that I wasn’t supposed to, but pretty soon I grew bored and took to looking out the window, at the place behind the house. The woods. The stream, which wasn’t visible right now. Suddenly, I heard a creak and my heart stopped. I stood frozen where I was and I slowly turned around but saw and heard nothing. Was I alone in this house after all? Don’t be silly, Sophie, I told myself, of course you’re alone. And then that sound again. This time I was certain it had come from the attic. I did not know what to do. Was all this happening because of all the people I had killed? Were they finally coming after me? Were they going to throw me down these stairs until I broke my neck? All these thoughts went through my head as I found myself walking up, step by step, to the apparent source of the sound. I found myself looking at a narrow flight of stairs; at the apex there was a single door. I breathed in hard. This door must be the one that led to the attic, and to the source of the noise. I tried to keep my breathing steady but failed miserably.
What was I thinking going up these stairs? What if there was a spirit up there waiting for me? There’s no such things as spirits, Sophie. That’s nonsense. You’ve read far too many gothic novels, and do they ever have real spirits in them? No, but if it wasn’t a spirit, what else could it be? A madwoman locked up in the attic? A sick family secret? Perhaps an unwanted child with mental problems that was kept secret? Perhaps even Jack’s child, for he was a bit of a whore, wasn’t he? Fucking anything that would spread its legs, including his brother’s girlfriend. I went up step by step and almost fell halfway through when I heard that terrible noise again. I was right, this was the source of it, but was I willing to see what it actually was? Was I willing to unravel this mystery? Finally, I managed to stand in front of the door and slowly I turned the knob, and then pushed. Nothing. I tried the knob again. The darned thing was locked! I stormed downstairs in a rage, determined to find the keys or some kind of tool to break in. The noise was driving me crazy. Then I got an idea. I went up the stairs and stood in front of the locked door.
“Anybody in there?” I said several times and put my ear to the door. I thought I could hear someone shuffling about but there was no response. Perhaps whoever they kept up here was mute and mostly tied up?
I made my way down those stairs again this time determined more than ever to see what the hell was up there. I went to the kitchen first and looked through every drawer. I found a couple of keys dangling from a hook and took them with me. I looked around for more and spotted some hanging on a wall. Armed with a dozen or so keys I made my way up to the attic, each step now more determined than the last. There was no hesitation this time. I tried all the keys one by one, hoping that each one would be the one, but to no avail. No key fit quite right, and I dropped them all down in frustration. It was quite a mess and I had to guess which key belonged where again. I went back to the kitchen and put the keys where I found them, hoping that I didn’t mess up the key system too bad as I put the other set back on the wall. I thought about where I’d keep secret attic keys if this was my house and the only thought that came to my head was my bedroom. I needed to find Margaret’s bedroom and I was sure I had a way in to the attic. They wouldn’t be home for hours from what I could gather, so I had plenty of time to explore. Suddenly I thought about security. If there was any, I certainly couldn’t see any evidence of it. No alarm keyboard, no cameras, no lasers. It all felt a bit silly but I spent the next half hour opening every door, one by one, until I found myself on the top floor in what definitely looked like a woman’s bedroom. There was a mirror stand with all kinds of perfumes and a jewelry box even. I looked through the drawers first but found no hidden key. Then I looked in the jewelry box, opening every little nook and cranny until finally I saw what looked like an antiquated key hidden among some silver necklaces.
“Bingo!” I yelled out and immediately felt weird about it. I was presumably alone in the house, so I didn’t know why I felt the need to pronounce things out loud. Perhaps it was a way of keeping myself sane, but whether it was, I clutched the key like it was the most precious thing in the world and made my way up to the attic again. This time I was more composed, because this time I was sure I had the key, so I wasn’t really in that big a hurry. Once I made my way to the attic door, I slowly and surely put the key in and turned, and to my relief, the door opened.
What I found was not what I was expecting at all. I don’t even know what I was expecting. A secret prison, holding some helpless man or woman? Silly, gothic novel ideas, that much was clear. What I found instead was an attic full of stuff. Old stuff. Stuff obviously from Jack’s childhood. Action figures. Movie posters. Boxes full of Christmas decorations. Besides being full, the attic was also very dusty and the window in the corner didn’t nearly let in enough light because of how much debris it had on it. I made my way carefully to the window, the wood beneath my feet creaking uncomfortably. Nobody had walked up here for ages. I wondered if I’d fall through the floor, and if I survived, I wondered how I’d explain myself to Jack, and especially to his mother Margaret, who kind of scared me if I was being honest.
I looked through the small opening and looked down on the courtyard below, where the cars were parked. It was empty no
w, but pretty soon it would hold two or three cars at least, as Brandon made his way back home. I felt like a heroine in one of my classic novels, and then I remembered the reason why I came up here in the first place. The noise. I froze in place and slowly turned around so the rest of the attic would face me and I wouldn’t have my back to it. I waited and waited, but no sound seemed to come. What had made the noise before? Did I frighten it...him, her away? I took a good look around me, but it was hard to see anything in such a mess. It was plausible that somebody could hide in amongst the boxes and other assorted junk, but why would they want to? This attic didn’t seem like it had been used in years. It certainly hadn’t been sweeped in a long time, I realized, as I saw that I was pretty much covered in dust. I’d definitely need a change of clothes or maybe even a shower before the family came back. After no noise came after a few minutes I took to actually looking at the stuff around me. Most of it was all about Jack and his movies. Lots of posters of the same thing, maybe slightly different.
Frankly, most of it was kind of boring. Except a few pieces of old furniture that looked interesting, this attic was pretty disappointing. I didn’t know why Jack’s mother felt the need to lock the damn place, much less keep the key hidden away in her bedroom, in the jewelry box nonetheless, the supposed place where she kept all her valuables. That made me realize something: that there must be something important up here if she was so careful to keep it locked away.
Secrets in the attack. Memories in the attic, was more like it. Most of them child’s toys. Boys’ toys. A lot of stuff from Jack’s childhood career, that was for sure. I sat down by the window sill. I didn’t even try to wipe it away first because I was so dirty already. Pretty soon, I grew bored of looking at things that didn’t seem that interesting and left the attic behind. Perhaps the sound had come from somewhere else? Though now that I thought about it, I hadn’t heard the sound since I entered the attic, maybe even before that. I was so happy about finding the right key that I didn’t really pay much attention to anything besides that. It was all quite strange and I reminded myself that I should ask Jack about the noise. He grew up in this house, so it made sense that he’d be the one to know. At least I hoped he would, because strange noises whose source was mysterious at best gave me the creeps.