Gnarled Hollow

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Gnarled Hollow Page 9

by Charlotte Greene


  Jim laughed. “That’s the funny thing. You would think it would be deadly boring, but she managed to have a full life out here in the woods. Yes, she writes about her day-to-day life, but she also writes about what she was thinking about and reading. It’s a fascinating look into her mind.”

  “What about you guys?” Emily asked. “What did you do today?”

  While Mark was an architectural historian and June an art historian, it had been clear from some of their earlier conversations that some of their work overlapped, a little like Jim’s and her own. The four of them, in a sense, were divided into two parties of interests.

  “Not a lot,” June said. “Without internet access, I’m a little out of my depth here. With one exception, I don’t recognize any of the pieces in the house, but they’re incredible. All the paintings are obviously from the same or similar time period, but without knowing the artists, I can’t say much beyond that, except that whoever bought these was obsessed with Romantic art. It’s a little funny, given the time period in which the house was built—at the height of Impressionism—but it’s possible the works here were bought earlier, before the house was built. I can’t find out without doing some research, and I can’t do research without a decent library or internet access. I spent most of the morning and afternoon talking to internet providers, and we should be able to get a DSL line out here later this week.”

  Emily had a momentary pang of regret. She’d been happy to be off the grid for the last few days. It had been, somehow, restful to be away from the world—a little like camping.

  Mark nodded. “I’m in a similar spot. I’ve done some more sketches, and I took some photographs, but I still need the internet for my research. I was, however, able to track down an historian at the university in Plattsburgh who’s fairly certain he’s heard of the house before, and he might know who the architect was.”

  “What’s the architect’s name?” June asked.

  Mark laughed. “That’s the thing—I don’t know, and neither does the professor at Plattsburgh. But he swears he’s read the name Gnarled Hollow before, so he’s going to look into it. I would have done more work back in the city before coming if I’d known what it would be like up here.”

  “Were the plans for the house filed in town?”

  Mark shook his head. “If they were, there’s no digital record for them, so no one could tell me over the phone. The town historian, however, claims that if they were filed nearby, they’d be at the library in the archive. I’m going into town tomorrow to check it out. The library is open only a couple of hours on Sundays, but I thought I’d get a feel for their archive anyway. Anyone who wants to go to town is welcome.”

  “Have you been there before?” June said, turning to Emily.

  She shook her head. It hadn’t even occurred to her to go into town. She knew it was tiny—a couple of thousand people at most—but that was all. She couldn’t even remember what it was called.

  “Let’s make an outing of it, then!” June said, clapping. “We could get lunch together and help Mark.”

  Jim sighed. “No, thanks. I grew up in a small town, and I’ve had enough of them. You guys go ahead.”

  June made a face at him. “Oh, come on, Jim. It’ll be fun.”

  He seemed to want to decline, but he sighed with resignation. “Fine. But I don’t want to be there all day.”

  June appeared satisfied, and Emily wasn’t surprised that she didn’t receive an invitation. June clearly already knew that Emily would go anywhere June liked.

  “All right,” Mark said, getting to his feet. “I’m planning to leave around ten in the morning.” His stomach gave a low rumble, and he grinned embarrassedly. “I missed lunch, so I’m going to eat an early dinner. After that, I need to do some more sketches and reading. I might not make it back down here later, so if I don’t, I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

  After he left, June set her teacup down and stretched before glancing at the clock. It was nearly four. “It’s way too early for dinner, but I need a nap.” Her eyes flickered to Emily’s and away. “I think I’ll go take one now so I can work a little more after dinner.”

  Emily’s face went hot. “Me, too.”

  They turned to leave, but Jim said, “Hang on a minute, June. I wanted to ask you something.”

  Having already committed to leaving, Emily was forced to continue toward the door, but June met her eyes as they passed each other. Once out of the sitting room, Emily paused in the foyer. If she waited for June, and then both she and Jim came out together, she would look ridiculous. But she also wanted to go up with her, and June had clearly wanted that, too. Emily hadn’t imagined that furtive glance or its implications.

  She sighed and headed up the stairs. The risk was too great that Jim would see her waiting, and anyway, she desperately needed a bath. She’d avoided it yesterday and this morning, and she was starting to feel grimy, particularly after last night. She retrieved her bath towel and soaps from her room and paused outside the bathroom, listening. Voices were coming from downstairs, so June was still down there. She opened the bathroom door, pulled the cord, waited for the light to flicker on, and then turned on the water in the tub.

  It was grim and ugly in here, but at least the water was hot. The tub itself was about two-thirds the length of a modern one, but with much higher sides. It filled quickly as she undressed. She was always quick to take her clothes off in here. Invariably, when her shirt was almost off and over her head, she sensed someone standing there, right behind her, watching. Like the other times she’d undressed, she spun around, her heart racing. There was, of course, nothing and no one there, but the watchful feeling remained. She shivered despite the hot, humid air.

  She slipped into the soapy water with relief, her body finally off display. The tub wasn’t long enough for her to fully extend her legs, so her knees poked up above the water. She couldn’t imagine how June, who was several inches taller, was bathing—she’d have to basically crouch in here to get clean.

  After she washed herself with a rag, she slid a little lower, bending her knees, and her shoulders just fit under the water. She closed her eyes and dunked her head underneath before coming up again and then shampooed her hair. She’d cut it before this trip, not knowing what kind of stylist she’d find up here, and it was shorter than it had been in a long while. Her fingers ran through the ends more quickly than she was used to.

  Her hair was, she knew, one of her best features—dark and thick, with hints of auburn when she stayed out in the sun for long lengths of time. It was snarled in places, and she had to pause once or twice and work through a knot with her fingers. She wasn’t washing it enough and vowed to resume her usual hygiene routine. Creepy or not, it was only a bathroom. And, she thought with a grin, if she and June kept sleeping together, she would have to bathe more often, anyway.

  She dunked down again to rinse her hair, and suddenly someone yanked her ankles up and out of the tub, pulling her farther under the water. Desperately, she tried to sit up, but the hands on her ankles were strong, pushing up on her legs, toward her head, making it impossible for her to get her face up. The water was deep enough that she couldn’t quite reach the air, and she thrashed hard against the tub, trying to yank her legs back toward her. The grip on her calves was vise-like, holding her fast and painfully.

  Suddenly whoever it was released her legs, and she sat up, sputtering and gasping for air. With soap and water in her eyes, she was temporarily blinded, but she thought she saw a shadow flicker off to her right, behind her. She was about to turn that way, but then she felt hands on her ankles again. She spun and tried to react, but it was too late.

  Seconds later, she was yanked down again, back into the water. She screamed, once, but the water was in her mouth, and she choked on it, her panic making her thrash and splash at the water as she tried to grab the sides of the tub. Finding no purchase, she pushed on the bottom with her hands, trying to get her face up, but with her legs over her head, s
he simply couldn’t bend her body that way. The grip loosened once more, and she came back up, gasping for air and screaming.

  Distantly, she was aware of pounding on the door and could hear the knob turning back and forth, but the door remained closed. She spun around in the tub, looking into every corner of the room, but didn’t see anything. This time, she had the wherewithal to tuck her feet up underneath her body to protect herself from being pulled under again, but, with her back turned to the door, suddenly someone pushed her shoulders, hard, and sent her back into the water once more. The back of her head hit the tub, but the pain was secondary to her panic.

  She fought, finding the wrists that were holding her down. She clawed at them and twisted from side to side, trying to get the hands off her shoulders and neck.

  And then they were gone, and she was sitting up, coughing and sputtering, a howl of terror escaping her lips a moment later.

  The door crashed open behind her, but she didn’t even turn toward it, the sound distant and removed from what had happened to her. A moment later, she felt hands on her, and she screamed, sure she was going back under the water again.

  “Emily! Emily! It’s me! It’s June!”

  Emily had closed her eyes, tightly, terrified to see what was coming for her, and when she finally opened them, she saw June’s pale, wild face, inches from her.

  “Jesus, Emily! What the hell happened?”

  Emily spun around, staring into every corner of the room again, seeing the men but also not seeing them standing next to the tub.

  “It’s in here—it was just here,” she said, spinning around again.

  “What? What’s in here?” June asked.

  “It was here—it held me under the water. It-it wanted to kill me.”

  “What the fuck is she saying?” Jim asked.

  “It’s in here!” she said, again, and then burst out crying. She covered her face with her hands, shaking so hard it hurt to breathe.

  The others were silent, and then Emily felt strong, warm hands reaching down and pulling her up to her feet. Someone wrapped a towel around her, but she was so removed from her body she wasn’t even embarrassed. They helped her step out of the tub, and she opened her eyes enough to meet their faces. Jim seemed angry, June scared, and Mark was staring down at the water that had sloshed out of the tub.

  “It was here,” she said again, quietly. Mark met her eyes and nodded, though whether in agreement or simple understanding, she didn’t know.

  “Let’s get out of here,” June said.

  She put an arm around Emily’s shoulders and led her out into the hallway. Jim followed a moment later, holding her keys, and opened her bedroom door. It was still full daylight outside, and the room was strangely bright after the dark, windowless bathroom.

  June released her shoulders and met her eyes. “Do you want a minute? To get dressed, I mean?”

  Emily looked down at herself and finally felt the embarrassment her earlier fear had suppressed. She pulled the towel around herself. “Yes—but don’t leave me alone. Please.”

  June turned around to the men. “Give us a second, okay, guys?”

  Emily heard the door close behind her and started crying again, and June pulled her into an embrace a moment later. A moment later, June gasped, and Emily moved back, looking up into her startled face.

  “What? What is it?”

  “Those marks! On your shoulders and neck!” June said. She’d taken a couple of steps away from her now, her eyes wide and frightened.

  “What marks?” Emily asked. She tried to see them, but the angle was awkward.

  “Go look in the mirror!”

  Emily let the towel drop and walked over to the full-length mirror on the wardrobe door. Dark red splotches stood out across her collarbones, the sides of her neck, and the tops of her shoulders. She stepped closer and could distinctly see that the marks were made by individual pressure points—what, even now, looked like hand and fingerprints. June was behind her in the mirror, and her expression changed as she saw them, too.

  “And your legs!” The marks were there, too, on her ankles and calves where the hands had held her under the water.

  Emily started to quake and tremble, her knees suddenly weak, and June grabbed her before she could sink to the floor. She steered Emily over to a chair and then raced over and grabbed the bathrobe she’d left last night, handing it to her. Emily held it, stupidly, for a moment, not knowing what to do with it, and June knelt to help her put it on.

  “The others have to see, Emily. And they’ll want to know what happened to you.”

  She nodded, vaguely, and struggled into the robe. June’s eyes were hard, angry now, clearly determined. Robe safely on, Emily waved vaguely at the door, and June walked over to open it for Mark and Jim. Both men came into the room a second later, obviously anxious, and Mark walked directly to her.

  “You have to see what’s happened,” June said. “Emily—show them.”

  “I saw some of it in the bathroom,” Mark said, standing near her chair.

  Emily pulled one shoulder of her robe down, exposing her neck on one side, and she heard Jim hiss between his teeth. Both of them bent closer, and June pointed at Emily’s legs and ankles. “They’re there, too.”

  All four of them exchanged looks, and then Jim cursed, storming across the room before pacing, nervously, back and forth from the chairs to the door. June and Mark sat down in the chairs on either side of her, and June took her hand.

  “What happened, Emily? Can you tell us?”

  Mark was watching her, his eyes careful and concerned. “You said when we were in the bathroom that ‘it’ was in there with you, that ‘it’ was trying to kill you. What did you mean?”

  She frowned, thinking. She had meant something when she said that, but she wasn’t sure now. She tried to piece together her impression of the thing that had held her under the water. It had hands, and arms—she knew that. So technically, it was human-like in shape. But she had also felt its skin when it was holding her by the shoulders. That last time it happened, when she’d been pinned back by her shoulders, she’d felt the arms pushing her down, and the sensation she’d had touching them made her shudder at the memory. The thing’s surface hadn’t felt at all like real skin.

  She shook her head, meeting Mark’s eyes. “I don’t know what I meant. I think I meant that it could be either a man or a woman…” Tears rose to her eyes again. She choked on the sob and put a hand to her mouth, shaking her head.

  “For fuck’s sake,” Jim said behind them.

  “What?” June said.

  “None of us saw anything! There wasn’t anything there!” Jim said.

  June launched to her feet, her fists clenched. “What’s that supposed to mean? Do you have eyes? Can you see? How do you explain these bruises?”

  Jim hesitated and then shook his head. “How the hell do I know? Maybe she already had them.”

  June’s face drained of color, her face a mask of pure rage. “She didn’t have them before, Jim, and you know it.”

  “I don’t know! And how would you know? She dresses like a nun most of the time. They could have been under her shirt the whole time.”

  June didn’t answer, and the two of them continued to glare at each other. Suddenly, Jim’s face broke into a broad, sarcastic grin, and he laughed. “Oh! I see. You know because you’ve already seen what’s under her shirt…and pants.”

  June’s voice lowered with anger. “Fuck you.”

  “Jim!” Mark said, his face dark. “Shut up.” He turned back to Emily. “Please—tell us what happened.”

  She swallowed, the memory already taking on the hazy edges of a nightmare. “I was taking a bath. The room was empty, but I felt like something—someone was watching me.”

  “Oh?” Mark asked. “How?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. I always feel that way in there.”

  “Me, too,” June added.

  Mark frowned. “Go on.”
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br />   “Then someone grabbed my ankles and pulled me under the water.”

  “You didn’t see anyone?” June asked.

  Emily shook her head. “I had my eyes closed because of the soap.”

  Jim snorted, and the three of them turned to him, Mark’s expression dark again. He looked back at her. “Then what happened?”

  “The hands let me go, and I got my head out of the water, but I couldn’t quite see yet. I thought I saw movement behind me, a shadow, and then it pulled me under again. It let go then, and that was when I heard all of you outside.”

  “The door was locked,” June said. “Why did you lock it?”

  She shook her head, confused. “I didn’t.”

  Jim laughed, and when all three of them looked at him, he held out his hands. “I mean, come on! Are we supposed to believe this crap?”

  “You think she’s making it up?” June asked, her voice cold and quiet. “Why would she do that?”

  Jim shrugged, dramatically. “I don’t know—for attention?”

  “You genuinely think she would do this to herself?” June asked, her voice still quiet. “That’s your explanation?”

  “There is no other explanation, June! No one was there! We all saw!”

  “Enough!” Mark shouted. The two of them jumped and then looked sheepishly at Mark and her.

  “I’m sorry, Emily,” June said.

  “It’s fine.”

  “Go on,” Mark said. “Tell us the rest.”

  “The last time I was pushed down by my shoulders.”

  “And you still didn’t see anything?” June asked.

  “There was nothing to see. I could feel it, but I couldn’t see it. I felt hands here,” she touched her shoulders, “but no one was there. I had my eyes open for part of the time, and I didn’t see anything. When I was underwater, I was trying to get the hands off me, and this time I could feel them, but I didn’t see anything.”

  Everyone was quiet. June was biting her lip, her eyes dark and worried, and Mark was staring at the table in front of him. Jim seemed to be glaring at the wall, but his eyes were distant, unfocused. Emily gazed back and forth among the three of them, wanting someone to say something, but no one did. There was nothing to say.

 

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