Windward Secrets

by K. A. Davis

  “Yes, yes, of course,” Caroline whispered, snatching her bracelet and hurriedly stepping into her shoes. Red-faced, she grabbed her handbag and made a run for it.

  Embarrassed and flustered she plopped down in a seat in the waiting area at the gate. Her mind raced toward the danger zone again.

  Mr. Bill isn’t as smart as he thinks, she thought with a smirk. She never let him know that she knew about his little escapade. She had been killing him with kindness for two months while she transferred funds from their joint accounts to an account in her name only. She had even moved some stocks and bonds without him knowing. “If he thinks he’s going to get away with spending everything we saved, for the last twenty-seven years, on some bimbo he’s a freaking lunatic,” she mumbled, a little too loudly.

  The sound of someone clearing their throat made her look up. An elderly couple across from her was looking at her with raised eyebrows.

  “It’s been a long day,” she said, sweetly, in her best southern accent and flashing them a big smile.

  Finally, seated in first class, with a cocktail in hand and luckily an empty seat beside her, Caroline started to feel her stress begin to melt. She closed her eyes and put her head back against the seat. What do I tell the girls? Closing her eyes she thought, Oh hell, I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.

  ***

  Jill

  “Woo Hoo!” Jill exclaimed, as she kissed Carrie, her daughter, goodbye. “I’m off! Be good. No men in the house while I’m away and don’t forget to check in on Gram at least once a day. Okay, sweets?”

  “Sure, Mom. Don’t worry about me, just have a good time,” Carrie replied, grinning from ear-to-ear at her mother as she nearly lost her balance battling two suitcases, a tote, her purse, and a large pastry box from Patsy’s Bakery.

  “Here, Mom, let me help.”

  Carrie took one of the suitcases and the tote, and placed them in the trunk of her mother’s powder blue, Volkswagen beetle. Laughing, she loaded the rest of the luggage and gave her mom a big hug. “Have fun and call me when you get there.”

  “Are you sure you’ll be okay,” Jill asked, looking up at her daughter’s crystal clear, blue eyes.

  Carrie was three inches taller than her mother with the same curly, black hair but her father’s light, blue eyes. Jill couldn’t help thinking thank God that’s all she got from her father.

  “Come on, Mom. I’m twenty-three years old. I’ll be fine. Please don’t worry.”

  “Okay, I’ll try,” Jill said, turning toward the car before Carrie could see the tears building in her eyes.

  Carrie walked up the front steps of their tiny, red, brick house and waved as Jill pulled out of the drive.

  Jill swallowed the lump in her throat. How did I get so lucky? What a great kid. I miss her already, she thought. Gripping the steering wheel tighter she turned left at the corner and headed for I-95. The three hour drive was a little daunting not to mention boring. She found an oldies station on the radio and began to sing.

  Before long she tired of the music and switched it off. The GPS was re-calculating. “It’s an interstate for crying out loud, what could I have done wrong? I must have missed a direction with the music drowning out Miss Happy Voice,” as she called the GPS narrator. Pulling to a stop on the side of the road, Jill waited for Miss Happy Voice to get her act together. Finally, she was directed to turn right three times and left once and drive back the way she had come.

  After driving a few minutes she realized she had exited the interstate without meaning to. “No worries. We’re back on track,” she declared, to Miss Happy Voice.

  Traffic was light and she quickly accelerated to the maximum speed. “Let’s go Lulu,” she said, to her car as she settled in for the rest of the drive.

  Several hours into the drive she began to think about how nice it would be to have a chauffeur to do the driving. “Better yet a MAN,” she said, out loud. “Where did that come from?” she asked her reflection in the rearview mirror.

  Anyone watching her as she carried on her one-sided conversation would have thought she needed to be institutionalized. In addition to talking, she gestured with her hands and made exaggerated head movements.

  I haven’t thought about having a man in my life for years. I love my job, well most of the time; and I have Carrie. Her mind suddenly felt like it hit a concrete wall. Oh my God, Carrie! She just graduated from nursing school and will probably be leaving home soon. What if she takes a job far away? What will I do?

  Jill’s skin grew clammy and her hands were slippery with sweat on the steering wheel. Her chest tightened. Her heart raced. She knew the signs of a heart attack and was afraid she was headed for one.

  She slapped her cheek. “Get a grip! This is silly. There’s no reason to worry. Take a deep breath! Carrie’s a smart girl… I have to trust her judgment. I raised her to be independent and now I have to let her choose her own path. On second thought… crap on all that psycho-babble, I want her to stay home with me forever.”

  Another half hour of processing this information and she perked up. “This isn’t a heart attack, it’s a mid-life crisis. Mid-life if you live to be a hundred and six!” she chuckled. “Maybe it is time to think about a relationship.”

  ***

  Diane

  It was already 4:45 p.m. and Diane felt a headache coming on. She was never going to get out of the office in time to beat the rush hour traffic leaving Boston, so she may as well stay and get a little more work done. Picking up the phone, she dialed Claire’s cell. No answer. Voice mail picked up. “Hi Claire, it’s Diane. I’m running behind and can’t beat the traffic so I’m going to stay and work a little longer. Please, don’t wait up for me. Just leave the key under the mat and directions to my room. I’ll see you all in the morning. Love ya.”

  She ran her hands through her short, spikey, blond hair and then massaged her temples. Reaching into a side drawer of her mahogany desk she pulled out a bottle of ibuprofen. “Lord, I get tired of these headaches.” Tossing two pills into her mouth she washed them down with a large gulp of water from the ever present bottle on her desk.

  “Okay if I leave?”

  Swallowing hard Diane looked up to see Karen, her assistant, standing in the doorway.

  “Sure, go ahead. If you need me while I’m gone feel free to call.”

  “When pigs fly,” Karen giggled, slipping into her navy, blue blazer. “Have a nice vacation and try not to worry about the office.”

  “Oh, we always have a great time,” Diane smiled. “You have a good weekend and I’ll see you when I get back.”

  Diane heard the outer door close and quiet invade the office, and said, out loud, “Okay, two hours is my limit! By then the traffic won’t be as bad and I can make better time.”

  Swiveling her desk chair around, Diane surveyed the city skyline from the windows of her twenty-second floor office. The afternoon sun bounced off the west facing windows, of the surrounding buildings, winking at her.

  “Gosh, where have the years gone? We have such different lives, yet are still friends after all these years.” She thought back to their days at the University of Massachusetts. “What fun we had.” That was where she had met her husband Tom. The old terror came back as she remembered the day he died. She still had a hard time believing he was gone, and so quickly. A brain aneurysm at thirty-two and that was it. She would never stop missing him. Deidra had been four and Tim only two. Taking a deep breath she rotated back to her desk.

  Diane ticked items off the list on her note pad. Call the kids and remind them to stop by the house to feed the cat and water the plants. Finish up the Larson’s Seafood account. Leave all the pending files on Karen’s desk. Call Mom and Dad to remind them I’m going away. Set the alarm before leaving the office. Luggage was already in the car.

  Turning her attention back to her computer she went to work.

  Yawning, she glanced down at the clock in the corner of the computer screen. “Yikes. It’
s 7:53 already. Where did the time go?”

  She logged off the computer, cleared her desk, got her handbag out of the bottom drawer, and laid files on Karen’s desk as she headed for the door. One last look around and she activated the alarm and pulled the door closed.

  In the elevator Diane pushed “P” for the parking garage and leaned against the wall as the elevator descended. It felt good to be going away. When the doors opened she stepped into the dimly lit, underground garage and walked toward her silver BMW.

  ***

  The crunch of car tires on the crushed shell driveway woke Claire. There was no way not to smile when she saw Jill. Hugs and kisses. Drag in the luggage. Jill always over packed. “Better to have it and not need it, than to need it and not have it” was Jill’s motto. She would have made a great boy scout.

  “Oh, I love it! Just love it!” Jill cried, walking in the front door. “This is a cottage? Are you kidding? It looks like something out of a movie. And The Point… The Point is soooooo ‘Summer of ‘42.’ You remember that movie, don’t you Claire?”

  Jill could say more in one breath than anyone Claire had ever met. “Yes. This is what the Victorians called a summer cottage. A bit bigger than what most of us think of, wouldn’t you say? And, yes, I do remember the movie.”

  Before Claire could say any more Jill was halfway up the stairs. “Where do you want me?’

  “Jill, wait,” Claire said, lugging the second suitcase up behind her. “I’m sorry but I have some disappointing news.”

  “Please don’t tell me something’s wrong. I’ve been looking forward to this vacation for months.”

  “Well, not really wrong, just inconvenient. We can’t use the fourth bedroom. When I booked the house it was advertised as four bedrooms but, for some unknown reason, when I picked-up the key I was told we can only use three of the bedrooms. Would you mind bunking with me?”

  “Is that all? Gosh, you scared me; I thought there was a problem. No worries, it’ll be like old times… as long as you don’t snore.”

  “No, no, you’re safe on that account,” Claire replied, with a smile.

  Claire took the lead up to the third floor and into the room with twin beds. It was a large room. There were two single beds, an oak dresser with a mirror, and two slipper chairs on either side of a small, round table between two of the four windows. The walls were covered with faded, floral wallpaper and lace curtains hung at the windows. The floor was painted white with braided rugs scattered here and there.

  “Ah… pretty room,” Jill said.

  The other room on the third floor was the locked room. It was like a specter stretching out its gnarly fingers toward Claire every time she passed; punishment for not knowing about it when she booked the cottage.

  “Hey, thanks, you made up my bed,” Jill said.

  “No. The beds were already made when I got here.”

  “I don’t understand. You told us to bring our own sheets and towels.”

  Claire shrugged her shoulders. “That’s what the confirmation said, but why not use what’s here. We can wash the sheets and re-make the beds when we leave.”

  “Works for me. Now, which way to the beach?”

  “Let’s wait for the others. How about some coffee?”

  ***

  By early evening Caroline had arrived and Claire had retrieved the message from Diane saying she would be late.

  Caroline, as expected, had chosen the largest bedroom, on the second floor, closest to the bathroom. Diane would have the other room on the second floor.

  “Sitting on the back porch waiting for Caroline, Jill whispered to Claire, “does Caroline look okay to you?”

  “Funny you say that. I thought she looked beat up from the feet up.”

  Hearing footsteps approaching from inside the house Claire and Jill became silent.

  ***

  Jill nominated herself as the official tour director and took over organizing the vacation with an emphasis on food and beverage. She prepared an easy meal of grilled burgers and vegetables, directed cleanup of the kitchen, and then suggested a walk on the beach.

  “It’s too cold,” Caroline whined.

  “Oh, come on Caroline, just a short one,” Claire said. “We need the exercise and it’ll help us sleep.”

  Bundled up against the September wind, the three set out. The sun appeared to set the trees on fire as it slid out of site below the horizon.

  “It’s cold, let’s go back,” Caroline shouted, over the wind.

  “As much as I hate to say it, she’s right,” Jill called to Claire.

  Turning around they started back toward the house walking against the wind with their heads down. Finally, at the steps leading over the dune to the house, they stopped to catch their breath.

  “That was a workout,” Claire said. “Hopefully, it won’t be as windy tomorrow.”

  “Look,” Jill said, pointing to the house. “Diane must have gotten here early.”

  Caroline and Claire looked in the direction Jill was pointing and saw the silhouette of a woman standing on the roof of Windward Cottage.

  “She’s on the widow’s walk,” Caroline said.

  “What’s a widow’s walk?” Jill asked.

  “It’s an area on a roof surrounded by a railing, sometimes it’s a glass-enclosed cupola. Women would watch for their husband’s ships returning from sea. They were given the term ‘widow’s’ walk because sometimes the husbands never returned,” Caroline explained.

  “Well, that’s cheerful,” Jill said, looking up at the roof again.

  Hurrying up the steps, and into the house, they called Diane’s name.

  No response.

  “Diane, we’re down here,” Caroline yelled.

  Still no reply.

  “She must not be able to hear us. I’ll get her,” Claire volunteered, striding up the stairs. “Diane, are you here?” she called at the second floor. No answer. “Come on Diane, don’t make me climb those stairs, I’ve already done it more times than I care to count!”

  No answer.

  Surely Diane had seen them on the beach and would have come down from the roof, thought Claire as she climbed the stairs to the third floor. She checked Diane’s and Jill’s room. No one there. She must still be out on the roof and can’t hear me. How did she get up there?’

  Looking around Claire located a back hallway she hadn’t noticed earlier. There was a set of narrow stairs leading up. ‘Great. More stairs.’ At the top of the stairs was a door, which Claire opened and stepped through onto the roof.

  “Diane, are you up here?”

  No answer.

  Claire walked around the flat, mansard roof but there was no one there and nowhere for anyone to hide.

  For crying out loud, this isn’t funny Claire thought, as she retraced her steps down the stairs. Checking each floor again, she looked more carefully into the room designated for Diane. There was no luggage, nothing to indicate Diane had arrived.

  “She’s not here,” Claire announced, entering the parlor where Jill and Caroline sat curled up with blankets in front of a crackling fire.

  Caroline and Jill looked at each other and then back at Claire.

  “How can that be when we saw her on the widow’s walk?” Caroline asked.

  “I don’t know, but there’s no sign of her.”

  Caroline got up and looked out the front window. “Her car’s not here.”

  “Well, we must have seen something that looked like a person but wasn’t,” Jill offered. “Things always look different at night.”

  “Who started the fire,” Claire asked, with a nod toward the fireplace.

  “It was already laid. All we had to do was light it,” Jill answered.

  “Well, what do you want to do?” Claire asked.

  Pointing to a bookcase on the far side of the room Jill suggested, “How about a game? There are some board games and a poker set on the shelf over there.”

  Caroline had a blank look on her fac
e with her thoughts obviously far away. If I’m going to tell them about my failing marriage I only want to do it once, I’ll wait till morning when Diane is here, she thought to herself.

  “Caroline, do you want to play a game,” Jill repeated.

  “Oh sorry, I drifted… thanks, but if you two don’t mind, I think I’m going to turn in early.”

  “No problem. We’ll see you in the morning,” Claire answered, with a mystified look. It wasn’t like Caroline to be the first to go to bed. She usually liked to finish the last of the preferred beverage of the evening.

  Caroline folded her blanket and laid it on the sofa. Without giving them another glance she walked up the stairs seeming to need the assistance of the banister to pull herself up.

  “Oh yeah, there’s definitely something wrong,” Jill whispered, snuggling deeper into the overstuffed sofa.

  Claire sat down beside her and pulled Caroline’s blanket over her legs. “I think you’re right. You don’t think she’s ill do you?”

  “I don’t know. She never said anything to me and we talk every few weeks or so. Come to think of it, we haven’t spoken since, I think… July. That’s much longer than normal.”

  The two women talked quietly as the flames died and the embers slowly faded to gray.

  “I’ll leave the key and a note for Diane, you lock up the rest of the house,” Claire directed.

  ***

  Something woke Claire and she sat straight up in bed. The digital clock on the bedside table read 3:08. Boy, Diane is really late, she thought returning to her warm nest under the blankets.

  Chapter Two

  Saturday

  Bright sunlight hit Claire directly in the face so she rolled over, away from the window. Opening one eye she looked at Jill’s bed, it was empty. The deep, rich aroma of coffee hit her nostrils like adrenaline. Throwing back the covers she stretched and eased up into a sitting position. She grabbed her quilted, cosmetic bag. ‘Hmmm…just like college…taking your toiletries down the hall to the bathroom.’

  Freshly showered, and hair still wet, Claire entered the kitchen expecting to see Jill but the kitchen was empty so she helped herself to a mug of coffee and peeked into the pastry box in the center of the kitchen table which was set for four. ‘Yum, I better wait for the others.’ Pushing the wooden, screen door open she stepped to the edge of the back porch and sat down on the top step. It was a perfect day. The sky was pure blue and the bright sun sent diamonds skipping across the whitecaps.