The Girl Next Door

by Lisa Aurello

  “It’s got to be a chimichanga. It’s fried or it’s not worth eating, right?”

  “Deal,” she agreed and winked at him. He was just too hot to turn away.

  ******

  Jane hauled in one of the larger boxes from her new car. Once it was filled, she wouldn’t be able to budge it, so she figured she’d pack it near the door. The O’Brien family had rented the house with most of the furniture so Jane was taking only her personal belongings and the sofa. She absolutely adored her new sofa and the O’Briens had their own, as well as a couple of bedroom sets. Jane had only furnished the master so their own stuff would come in handy. The sofa along with all but two of the boxes would go into storage as Jane was staying in a fully furnished sublet for a while until she decided what was next. She was taking only her clothes, laptop, and a few of her books and smaller possessions.

  Pretty sure I could fit everything into three—maybe four—large boxes, she thought, as she got the other two big ones and placed them side by side. Crouching beside them, she started to pack the heavier items in the largest of the three boxes. Her stereo was blaring though it was only ten a.m. She had the volume cranked up for two reasons: first, to keep her energized as she was packing up her life that she’d barely unpacked a few months ago. Second, because she felt very unsafe here, thinking some people still believed her guilty of Cate Caldwell’s murder. Didn’t matter that all charges were dropped and two other people were tried and convicted for the crime. Some people were like dogs hanging onto bones once they got their teeth into something juicy, false or not, and it couldn’t be yanked out of their snarling mouths for anything. The music kept her mind off of her fears.

  Radiohead was singing her high school theme song ‘Creep,’ and she was trying to rearrange the box to maximize the fit when she caught a swift movement in her peripheral vision, and her head whipped around so fast she hurt her neck. When she saw the man standing in her living room, she choked on her own saliva when she tried to shriek and gasp simultaneously.

  He held out his hands in supplication. “Sorry, Jane,” he almost yelled to be heard over the music. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. I just thought I should come by…” He pointed with his thumb toward the front door. “You didn’t hear me knock and the door was unlocked.” He jammed his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “I heard the music… from down the block,” he added with a grin. “So I figured you were home.”

  She stood up and brushed the dust off her hands, unsure what to do next. “Yeah. For a little while…I…” Her words stuttered as she scrutinized him. What were his intentions? Did he still believe she’d taken out a hit on his wife? She spun around to lower the volume on the music but angled her head to keep him in her line of vision.

  “Um, no, it’s fine, Mason,” she assured him, turning back around, and wiped her sweaty hands on her thighs. “What can I do for you?”

  He looked around. “Moving again?”

  Feeling her face flush, she nodded. “Yeah. My reputation got kind of trashed here.” She tried to muster a smile. “I just want to say—”

  “Don’t think that you—”

  They both began to speak and then both dropped silent and chuckled. “You first,” Mason said, pointing his thumb at her, his other fingers still thrust in his tight pockets.

  Though she still wasn’t sure of his motive for the visit, she wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. Still, it was scary to be all alone in an empty house with a man who very likely had his wife killed. The prosecutor who won the conviction of Kendra Ortalano was convinced the woman had Mason’s help, even if she couldn’t prove it. Jane knew this because Detective Fitzgibbons had told Mel, and Mel had told her—it wasn’t a big secret. Plus, there were Kendra’s hysterical rantings, claiming Mason planned the whole crime and then framed his old high school bestie. Maybe he came here to finish the job that framing Jane for murder hadn’t achieved?

  It was more than a little difficult to believe her high school crush was capable of such atrocities, but then who knew who Mason had become in the last seven years. It was possible that he’d turned evil, she supposed. Schizophrenia doesn’t develop until young adulthood… maybe the same holds true for psychopaths?

  Jane took a deep breath and tried to ingratiate herself with him. “I’m just really sorry for everything you went through. I hope you can find peace enough to move forward…” The acoustics of the emptying house echoed her voice.

  He stepped closer to her and her pulse leapt like a panicked rabbit. It took every iota of control Jane had in her to refrain from physical retreat, or a few steps back at least. She was certain he could hear her heart pummeling her ribcage for it sounded deafening to her.

  He was standing in front of her, hands held out in supplication, eyes wide with sincerity, emotional strain etched into his expression. “That’s very generous, considering what you went through. And, Jane… same goes. It’s unreal the lengths that crazy woman went to so she could continue to bully you. Just insane.”

  “And obsessing over you,” she said softly, “even after all these years. You’re the one who has a lot of pieces to pick up. Me, I travel light. God, I’m so sorry about your wife, Mason.”

  He shrugged, a frown contorting that handsome face of his—a blessing and curse, no doubt. “You know, I’ve spent a lot of time mourning Cate. It’s time… I’m trying to get on with things,” he murmured. “I’m only thankful I have my family for support. There are a lot of people who think I had something to do with Cate’s murder. Kendra’s wild accusations didn’t help.”

  “Mmm. Are you going to keep your company going?”

  He rubbed the back of his head, stretching his long, muscular back and Jane couldn’t keep her thoughts from going to erotic places. The man was just too seriously hot. “It’s really my cousin’s company—and Cate was a silent partner. You remember Jake, right?”

  “Yes, I think I do. I think… in fact, I’m pretty sure we met up again in college and sort of became friends.”

  “Huh. He never mentioned that to me.”

  “Yeah. Well, my memory is still spotty about the last five or six years or so. But… bits and pieces, fits and starts. Anyway…” she said, her eyes focused out the window to avoid looking at him. A noise brought her gaze back to him.

  He was twirling his key fob around his finger, looking around at the large empty room. “Well, I suppose I should let you get back to your packing. I have to go anyway. I borrowed Jake’s Porsche—again—and he’ll probably be ticked that I took it without asking,” he said with a feeble chuckle. “I think I need to buy my own soon. My Audi feels too tame in comparison.”

  Jane smiled. “Jake rebuilt that 911, didn’t he? I seem to recall his telling me it was a mess when he got it.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Jane stood there immobilized, brought up short by the new memory. Every day was an adventure in life with a TBI.

  Mason looked surprised too. “Yep, he did. Jake’s a jack of all trades.” He started backing up toward the door and pointed his keys at her. “Be well, Jane. Take care of yourself.”

  “You too, Mason. Hey, tell Jake I said hello.”

  “Will do.” He winked at her as he smiled and started to turn. “Goodbye, Jane.”

  After he left, Jane’s legs quit holding her and she dropped back to the floor, just sitting there for a long minute. She hadn’t eaten anything since early last night; her blood sugar levels must be plummeting. Grabbing the arm of her chair, she pulled herself up and went into the kitchen, scrounging around for a sleeve of crackers or something she could scarf down fast.

  She felt off-kilter, way off.

  She found a package of oatmeal cookies and stuffing one into her mouth, she tried to focus on chewing and swallowing, not on her queasiness. A few minutes passed before she felt better enough to resume her packing.

  It was sad, so sad. Mason’s life was ripped apart, Kendra would spend the rest of her miserable days behind bars, and Cate Caldwell’s
promising future was snatched from her, cut down in the prime of life. And for what?

  Jane knew she’d probably seen the last she’d ever see of Mason Caldwell III. It was bittersweet, but she was good with it. He wasn’t ever a part of her life, just a fantasy of hers, one that she was forced to create by the wretchedness of her childhood. But hey, she was no longer that child. And what happened between them was not much more than a fantasy. He didn’t even have the faintest clue that she was that girl Janine who he had the briefest of flings with, one night of intimate fun. And he never knew that the condom broke, never knew about the baby son, never knew what that first accident had stolen from her.

  Jane had a good life now: an excellent job, a loyal friend, well, really two now that she and Rachel Carson—her older British train friend—started getting together. Someday soon, she’d have a new home too. Something to look forward to.

  And isn’t that really what anyone needs to be happy in life? Just something to look forward to?

  EPILOGUE

  One year later:

  “It’s so beautiful here, isn’t it? We should just sell our places in the city and buy a home on the water. Don’t you think, love?”

  Jane picked up her head to look at him. Even the bright morning sun didn’t diminish her husband’s phenomenal good looks. She could hardly believe that life led her here, together with the man of her dreams.

  Leaning her head back against his shoulder, she murmured, “Long commute,” as she once again stared out over the expanse of blue, watching the gilded light tremble on the water’s surface. It was like staring at the most brilliant of jewels.

  “They love you at your job, Janey. You can ask if you can work from home two days a week and only go in for three. I can stay up here with the kids when we have them. I’ll sell my company—”

  “What about your cousin?”

  “Mason wanted to sell all along, but when Cate’s share reverted back to me and I cut him in as an equal partner... Who knows? Maybe Mason will buy me out—he’s taken a much stronger interest in the business since it became his and not Cate’s.” He shrugged. “If instead we both sell, he stands to make some nice coin.”

  His fingers gently pushed her long hair away from her face. “You can get a studio apartment in the city to use for the three days a week you’re there,” he added as he lifted her chin with a bent finger and lightly kissed her lips. “Doesn’t that sound good, sweetheart?”

  Jane closed her eyes. It sounded more than good: it sounded sublime. She could do it—they could do it. Her house in Riverdale was worth a lot and so was his loft in Harlem where they lived now. Pooling the money would buy them a paradise up here. She could easily afford to buy a small place in midtown, close to the office. It would be kind of fun to live as a married woman four days a week and a single one the other three.

  She still had a hard time believing the extreme turn her life had taken since the twin nightmares of her car accident and the murder charge against her. About two months after the trial had ended, she chanced to sneak out of her office building to run some errands at lunchtime and who of all people did she run into?

  Jake Emerson, Mason Caldwell’s cousin and partner.

  Jane had already begun to recall their friendship during college and seeing him again made her ridiculously happy. From there it just took off. It was as if they’d been together their whole lives, not just a few months. Six months later they stood before a justice of the peace in Hawaii with Jake’s parents as witnesses and made it official.

  She looked up to find him still watching her. “So,” he said with a tentative smile, “what do you think?”

  She nodded and returned the grin. “I think, actually, it’s a great idea.” She angled her body to touch him, running her fingers over the architecture of his perfect face. She couldn’t get over the flawless symmetry of his features and took photos of him day and night, in light and darkness, in clothes and without. Harsh light, flashbulb—it didn’t matter. He was so photogenic. Sighing, she grasped his chin and turned his face directly toward her. “Life would be perfect if only I could get the rest of my memory back.”

  He reared his head back to look her in the eye. “Maybe it’s for the best if you don’t ever get it back.”

  “Why, Jake? That makes no sense.” She studied his expression. “At one time I was afraid of remembering everything, but since Kendra…”

  “I know you were. I just think… well, sometimes, Janey, the truth hurts and ignorance—”

  “—is bliss, right?”

  He guffawed. “Right. Follow your bliss.”

  ******

  It was the week they closed on the house—a two-story 1874 clapboard and stone eyebrow Colonial on six acres of waterfront, meadow, and wooded land. The property included a two-bedroom guesthouse and an old red barn, and the main house sat on a hill with a green swath of lawn leading right down to the water’s edge and their own private dock. Jane was sitting at home reading a blog by a doctor whose specialty was amnesia recovery. She had come to terms with living with large gaps in her memories, but it couldn’t hurt to keep trying to get them back. Dr. Ziegler listed various mental exercises designed to keep the brain agile and recommended using popular music and comfort food from the lost time period to help jog and recapture the slippery memories, and Jane had printed out the blog for future reference.

  While she was waiting for the printer to prime and spit out the documents, she headed to the kitchen for an iced tea. Jake was sitting in his favorite chair, watching some idiot adult cartoon. On the way to the kitchen she veered toward him to place a kiss on his head, and his arm snaked around her, pulling her down onto his lap with a plop. She laughed, a lock of her long hair stuck to her lip and he looked at her with—well, Jane would have sworn it was love. When he looked at her like he was doing right then, she could believe he adored her, and it made everything she went through to get here worth it.

  “What are you watching?”

  “Some stupidity.” He switched to the news, and immediately his attention was caught. The crawl said ‘Breaking News: Westchester fire guts restaurant and adjacent bakery.’

  “Oh shit. Look at that, Jane. That’s Rasputin’s.”

  “Rasputin’s? Did we go there?”

  He looked at her and smiled slightly. “Yes, we did. More than once. In fact, you wore those sexy Louboutin heels for me the last time we were there, the ones I bought you?”

  Jane chuckled. “Yeah, Mel has had some serious designs on those shoes, but I beat her off them. Actually, I had to buy Mel her own pair. I thought she was going to faint when she opened the box.” She tapped his nose playfully with her finger. “Maybe if you’re good, I’ll wear them again for you. Maybe even tonight?”

  “Mmm, with nothing else, I hope.”

  She was just about to lean down to kiss him, really kiss him, when a memory hit her sideways, its ferocity making her gasp—not just the way it materialized without warning but also because of what it consisted of. She jolted, almost falling backward in the process. He grabbed her with his right hand and her eyes were drawn to the delicate tattoo on his middle finger: the Buddhist symbol of the eternal knot.

  Her gaze caught Jake’s and he looked at her with discerning eyes, almost immediately understanding what was tripping over in her head. Various emotions skittered across his face but his eyes remained static, flat… determined. After a long minute transpired, his face split into a grin, a grin that was more knowing than any other, a grin as malevolent as any could be.

  “You remember, don’t you?” he asked, his smile baring all his teeth.

  She nodded slowly, seeing him through a different lens, one with a backstory she lacked before. Emotion clogging her throat, she finally answered him. “Yes, Jake. I-I think I do.

  “I already knew I met you again in college.” There was no question mark attached to her words but he treated it like one nonetheless and nodded. “But we became close. Very close.”

&nbs
p; “Yes. Yes, we did.” His voice shook with emotion—the emotion of someone who’s been profoundly alone and suddenly isn’t anymore.

  “She left you to marry your best friend. Your cousin. She broke your heart.”

  Again, he nodded, his eyes darkening with the echoes of betrayal.

  She kept going, possibly even oblivious to the emotional turmoil her words might be causing him. “Cate Cobb treated you like a piece of dirt, as if you were dispensable, the socialite bitch. I couldn’t bear to see it anymore. One of the most wonderful men I’d ever known, and she acted as if you were less than spit.”

  His pupils dilated, darkening his polar-blue eyes. “She signed her own death warrant when she insisted we make Mason a full partner. Why should I give such a valuable chunk of my assets to the man who stole my fiancée, my so-called best friend? So much for blood being thicker than water. I worked so hard to build the business from scratch. Plus, I knew they both wanted to sell, and if we made Mason a partner, they’d be able to overrule me. This way, I kept the whole company, and it was my choice to eventually split Mason in.”

  He winked at her. “For you there was also Kendra. That afternoon at Rasputin’s… I saw steel in your determination to pay her back.”

  “She made my life a living hell in high school. And for what? I never did anything to her.”

  “And when I contacted her, pretending to be Mason, with the plan to pin the hit on someone else, she honed right in on you as the scapegoat—I needed no manipulation there.” He grinned. “Not to mention she never doubted that I was my cousin.”

  “She’s a horrible person.”

  “True dat, baby. And she’ll rot in prison. She deserves to after what she did to you, causing the accident—as if all the bullying wasn’t enough.”