The Widow's Watcher

by Eliza Maxwell

  The world had paused, holding its breath. Everything except the snow, which blew on the wind like fairy children on holiday.

  Even Cassie remained silent.

  The driveway ended, after bending left where an olive-green truck sat that must have been as old as she was. She continued past the truck, past the bend, and through the gathering snow, which crunched beneath her feet. She walked through a stranger’s yard, toward the lake she’d seen from the road.

  The yard sloped sharply downward, and Jenna followed a set of ancient concrete steps built into the hill.

  The steps were slick with ice and snow and varied in height. She concentrated on her footing. Once at the bottom, she found herself on a small landing that stopped abruptly at a man-made retaining wall that had seen better days.

  Jenna’s eyes swept across the partially iced body of water stretching before her, hidden from the rest of humanity, tranquil in its anonymity.

  “Incredible,” Cassie said.

  Jenna’s face remained impassive. She had the vaguest sense her expression had frozen the day she’d received the call, as if the voice on the line had somehow reached through the airwaves and severed the connection between her face and her heart. Between everything and her heart.

  “Smile, Jenny,” her mother used to scold. “Pouting is unattractive. Your face is going to get stuck like that.”

  Jenna’s lips tried twisting at the irony and failed. There was finally something her mother had been right about.

  She pulled in a deep, cold breath and spared a moment to at least acknowledge the natural beauty surrounding her, so bold and life sustaining. Two things Jenna no longer was.

  Is there anything so empty as something that’s once been full?

  She bent to lower one leg, then the other, over the retaining wall. Snow had gathered along the edge of the frozen lake, but it gave way beneath Jenna’s weight. Four inches, then six, her foot sank before she found resistance. She had no way to know how strong the ice beneath the snow was or how deep the frigid water beneath.

  There were places farther out with no ice at all.

  “Stay with me,” she whispered, reaching for her daughter, the only thing she had left.

  Jenna closed her eyes. Sensations washed over her. Heat from tears not shed. The comforting weight of the box against her side. The imagined warmth of Cassie lacing her fingers through her own.

  “I’ve got nowhere else to be,” Cassie said.

  Jenna took a step away from the wall. Her foot pressed through the snow again before it met the ice below.

  This was her destination. This was the place she’d driven thousands of miles to find. Someplace, any place, with no ties to the family she no longer had, or the life she would never live again.

  Any lingering hesitation drained away, along with the little warmth left in her body. She took another step away from shore.

  And another.

  Her pulse raced. For the first time in a long time, something like joy stirred inside of her.

  She took another step, no snow beneath her feet now. Only ice, creaking with anticipation, just as she was.

  A slow smile spread across Jenna’s face.

  Her mother was wrong after all. The thought made her laugh, a full and deep sound, laced with the same triumph she’d had the day Cassie was born.

  She took a step. And another.

  The silent cocoon of the world as she made her way slowly, indelibly forward embraced her.

  The universe had made a mistake. As had Jenna. She should have been with them. There was no reason, no logic, to a reality where she was expected to go on living in such emptiness, scraped hollow until nothing remained.

  But it was going to be okay. The universe, with Jenna’s help, would make things right.

  In this beautiful place she’d never been, she would find peace.

  It was time for her to leave this lovely, treacherous world. Time now to make it right.

  The universe was listening. A crack appeared at her feet with a sound like a life breaking in half. It spread faster than her eye could track, showing her the way forward.

  All she had to do was follow it.

  Jenna took another step.

  And another.

  No hesitation. No second thoughts.

  A whisper of warning shivered up her spine, but Jenna ignored it, her decision made.

  5

  Lars’s first thought was that he was seeing a ghost.

  “Audrey?” he whispered. His hands stalled where they held the hot cup of soup he’d pulled from the microwave. There was no one in the house to hear his slip of the tongue, or the gasp when the heat of the cup penetrated his consciousness.

  He dropped it onto the counter and soup sloshed over the side, but his attention was on the wide bank of windows that faced the lake.

  He stepped closer, squinting to take in the sight of a woman with long dark hair making her way slowly down his steps.

  Doc Meyer had told him his heart was the problem. He hadn’t said anything about his mind.

  Lars shook his head. There was nothing wrong with his mind, dammit. There was a woman. She was right there, flesh and blood.

  And she sure as hell wasn’t Audrey.

  “What the hell?” he asked no one.

  As he stood watching, the woman stepped onto the ice along the edge of the lake.

  Harmless enough, if odd. The edge was frozen through to the bottom. So long as she didn’t go farther, there was no problem.

  Then she did.

  Without hesitation, the woman stepped out. He saw her catch her balance on the slippery surface. She didn’t pause, but took another step.

  Fumbling with the latch on the window, Lars cursed the arthritis in his fingers as he yanked the stubborn old double pane up with all his strength.

  The blast of frigid air pushed at him. The woman had taken another step while he’d been messing about with the window. He opened his mouth to shout a warning, but before he could, a warble of laughter reached him that chilled him in a far deeper place than did the cold Minnesota air.

  Understanding bloomed. He hadn’t heard laughter like that in nearly thirty years, but the loose, lonely sound of a soul that’s come untethered wasn’t a thing he was likely to forget.

  Recognition settled upon him like a shadow.

  On its heels, a white-hot outrage.

  6

  “Whoa there, lady,” came a voice like rusted hinges.

  The voice grabbed Jenna’s attention, pulling her back as much as the hand that clamped on to her bicep.

  With a gasp, she turned to stare at the source of the intrusion.

  Jenna didn’t have time to register the man’s face as she was yanked by the arm with enough force that she stumbled. She followed along, more from an instinct to keep her legs beneath her than because she wanted to go in the direction the man was pulling her.

  Back to the edge of the lake.

  Back to the emptiness she was determined to leave behind.

  The retaining wall was coming closer. Jenna tried to pull away, but the stranger’s grip was iron. She had no choice but to comply.

  “No, sirree. Have to be blind and dumb not to see what you got in mind, but not today. No, ma’am. Not on my lake anyways.”

  He yanked harder. Something dark and hot bubbled up inside of her.

  The interloper turned to face Jenna. To her horror, he put his hands on her waist, picked her up, then set her back down above the wall.

  “How dare you—”

  “Ah, save it, lady.” The man lifted a leg to step over the wall himself. “I got no time for the likes of your kinda business today.”

  “You can’t put your hands on me like that.”

  He’d ruined it. He’d ruined her perfect moment with no more consideration than he’d give to swatting a fly.

  “Under normal circumstances, you’d be right.” His face was lined and craggy where it wasn’t obscured by a wiry gray beard.

/>   “But I’d say these are hardly normal circumstances, and I won’t hesitate to do it again.” His face leaned close to hers. “Now get yourself outta here, before I have to do it for you.”

  Jenna backed up at the blaze in his stark gray eyes, an anger he had no right to. It was hers.

  “Who asked you anyway?” She stepped up to meet him nose to nose. “You think you’re some sort of Galahad, coming to rescue the damsel?”

  “Lady, I look like Galahad to you?” His bushy eyebrows rose, two untamed animals growing out of his face. “I don’t give a damn what you do, but I got no intention of waiting out the winter knowing your dead carcass is gonna float up in my lake in the spring. You take your fancy pants elsewhere, and you do it now, before I decide to call the cops.”

  He put his hands on her again, turning her by the shoulders so she was facing the concrete steps, and gave a small shove.

  “Go on, then.”

  All the way up the hill the man was at her back, urging her forward. His presence stoked her fury.

  “That yours?” He gestured toward her minivan parked along the street.

  Jenna set her jaw and crossed her arms. It was childish, but she’d stumbled so far onto this limb it was impossible to find her way back with any semblance of grace.

  The man scowled, his overlarge eyebrows moving across his face like caterpillars trying to find a comfortable spot.

  “Lady, I told ya, I got no time for shenanigans. Now is that your van or not?”

  “Yes,” she spat out. “Yes. Fine. I’m going.”

  Yet she continued to stand with her legs braced apart, arms crossed over her chest.

  The two of them stared at each other for a beat, then two.

  One of the caterpillars got restless and rose, revealing the pale eye beneath.

  “Well, then, whatcha waiting on, missy?”

  Her hands clenched into fists as she briefly imagined wrapping them around his throat. She turned wordlessly and huffed her way back to her van, leaving the man standing watch over her progress at the end of his precious driveway, protecting his precious lake.

  A burning animosity propelled her into the vehicle. She removed the strap of her bag, set it in the passenger seat, and slammed the door behind her. Glaring back at the man, Jenna gave the keys in the ignition a vicious crank.

  The engine rolled over, and she found a tense satisfaction in the sound, a voice for her frustration. Then the noise gave out and turned to a wheezing whine of defeat. Her satisfaction withered with it.

  She cranked the key again as she glanced down at the dashboard, willing the engine to catch.

  But the universe had given her one chance today. It didn’t care what Jenna wanted anymore. Neither did the engine of the van.

  “No,” she said under her breath. “No, no, no, you bastard.”

  Another turn of the key. Jenna heard what sounded like a death rattle, shuddering into nothingness.

  “You can’t be serious. Come on!” She gave another useless turn, but there was no point.

  The van was done.

  “Dammit!” She pounded both fists on the wheel.

  She glanced toward the driveway. The old man was gone. There was nothing there now save a thickening curtain of snow. He’d disappeared, like he’d never been.

  “That’s great. Absolutely fantastic.”

  She leaned her head back against the seat and took a deep breath.

  “Any sage advice now, Cass?”

  There was no reply. Not from the empty van. Not from the voice in her head.

  “Of course not.” Another breath, then she gave in to the inevitable and reached for the handle of the door. “Figures.”

  The frozen lake was still there, silent in the distance, but she was sure the old man was watching, even if she couldn’t see him. There was no dignity in the idea of racing him back to the center of the lake.

  She wouldn’t do it that way. Like a woman who’d taken leave of her senses. Ending her life was the most rational decision Jenna had ever made, and she was determined to get this one last thing right.

  “Even if it kills you?” Cassie asked.

  Jenna could almost see her daughter, arms crossed, her head tilted in disapproval.

  Ignoring her, Jenna tramped back through the falling snow, up the man’s driveway once more. She plowed forward on instinct, despite the foul taste of bile in her throat, and did what needed to be done next to get her out of here.

  She stomped up the steps to the weathered door she assumed he’d disappeared through.

  Jenna made a fist and pounded.

  He didn’t answer.

  She held her breath and pounded again.

  “Come on, you asshole!” she shouted. “I know you’re in there.”

  Growing more agitated by the moment, she raised her hand to pound again.

  “Fine time to ignore me now! Couldn’t mind your own damn business when I—”

  She broke off as the door abruptly swung outward. There’d been no warning, no thudding footsteps coming from inside the house. Only the turn of the handle followed immediately by the outward push of the thick wood with such force she had to back up several steps. If it weren’t for the steaming mug of what appeared to be soup in his hands, she might have thought he’d been standing just inside the door, waiting to see if she’d go away.

  The old man peered at her. He didn’t speak.

  “My van won’t start.” It was an accusation, as if he were somehow responsible.

  His impressive eyebrows drew together, and she bit back a few choice words as he blew onto his soup to cool it.

  But when he reached out, hooked a gnarled finger around the brass doorknob, and shut the door in her face without a word, her jaw dropped.

  She stood there, gaping, but the door didn’t open again.

  Jenna turned, then walked to the edge of the small porch, shaking her head.

  “Old bastard,” she murmured. “Who the hell does he think—”

  The door opened behind her.

  She turned to see him standing in the doorway again. The soup was gone, replaced by a cell phone, which looked incongruously shiny and smooth in his hand. He held it up without a word.

  Jenna took a hesitant step in his direction. He made no move to bring it to her, and she suspected he was waiting for her to draw close only to pull it back and shut the door again.

  Once she was near enough, he slapped the device into her hand.

  “Thank—”

  The door closed in her face.

  Expletives she’d rarely spoken aloud burst across Jenna’s mind, but she clamped her jaw and ground her teeth.

  “Fine.” She gripped the phone in her frozen fingers. “I’ll just call a tow truck, then, why don’t I? Get out of your damn way.”

  She hit the button at the bottom of the phone to light up the screen and swiped a thumb across the display to view the options.

  She stared.

  With a long-suffering sigh, she turned back to the door.

  At least the pounding was keeping her hand warm.

  When the man opened the door again, the soup back in his hands, Jenna held up the phone.

  “I don’t know where I am.”

  It was the old man’s turn to sigh.

  “If you ain’t a boatload of trouble, lady, I don’t know who is.” He took the phone back, glanced over his shoulder into the darkened house, then turned to look her up and down.

  “Stay there.” He proceeded to shut the door on her. Again.

  “And where else do you think I’m gonna go, then?” she yelled to the plane of wood standing between them.

  Jenna wrapped her arms around herself and turned to watch the snow fall, seething at the predicament she’d managed to put herself in.

  Cassie’s laughter rang in her ears.

  “Is this what they call a meet-cute?” her daughter asked. “Because this guy has leading man written all over him.”

  “I’m glad you find thi
s funny.”

  “Ah, don’t be such a grump,” Cass said. “I think he’s hot . . . in a geriatric, prison parolee sort of way.”

  “Cassandra, please.” Jenna was in no mood for her daughter’s wry, inappropriate humor.

  Cassie’s peel of amusement drifted away into the snowfall.

  The cold surrounding Jenna began to seep into her consciousness. Little pinpricks to get her attention at first, which she tried to ignore. Soon, though, with the anger banking inside of her and the temperature dropping by degrees, there were great swaths of her body that began to feel they’d never be warm again.

  She stamped her feet and rubbed her hands, numb now, up and down the arms of her thin jacket, designed for a friendlier climate than whatever godforsaken place she’d found herself in.

  Jenna looked toward the door. There was no sign of her self-appointed savior. She tucked her fingers beneath her arms. She wouldn’t knock. Not again.

  Minutes crawled past as the snow wicked the color from the world around her.

  Unable to resist, Jenna turned back to the house. She swallowed her pride and raised her fist to knock, but her eyes were drawn to a small window farther down.

  On soft feet, feeling like a voyeur, she tiptoed across the boards of the porch and leaned her head just far enough around the window jamb to peek inside.

  There were shabby lace curtains, which might have once been white, blocking most of her view, but they didn’t quite meet in the middle. Jenna caught a glimpse of the man who’d pulled her from the lake, the man who’d instructed her to stay here in that arrogant tone, then left her to freeze her ass off.

  He was stretched out in a recliner, in thick socks that had a hole in the bottom of the left one. He was watching television if the flickering light playing across his face was any indication. Next to a fireplace.

  Jenna’s eyes watered at the thought of the waves of heat that must be rolling off the hearth.

  “You old bastard.” The words formed misty smoke in the air.

  Straightening, Jenna considered beating on the door again so she could tell him he was a bastard to his face, but he’d probably shut it on her before she could get the words out. If he bothered to get up from his chair.