“Come in.” Julia says lightly.
The door opens and another woman walks in. A nauseating wave of resentment washes over Sara. Swallowing the bile in the back of her throat, she focuses on the new woman. She looks like Julia, but the differences are easy to spot. If Julia is pretty, this woman is beautiful. She has fine bone structure—her frame is waiflike—giving her a delicate, almost ethereal appearance. Her hair—a deeper red than Julia’s—is pinned up, highlighting her angular face. The same large, deep-blue eyes draw attention, but are even more mesmerizing—although some of the sparkle seems to be missing. Sara notices that the woman looks tired, and slightly pasty, in contrast to Julia’s healthy glow.
“Good morning, Alice,” Julia says, turning to the woman. “I heard you were feeling better today. I’m glad to see you up. How are you?”
Alice sits down on the bed. “A little better. I was able to have some breakfast today.” She speaks without intonation.
“Would you like to go out with us today? The weather is nice.”
“Perhaps…”
“Maybe you should see the doctor again.” Julia’s tone expresses concern. “You need to eat more. You’re fading away.”
“I know. But I keep having these awful cramps.” A faint tremor shakes her hand as she lifts it to rub her temple. “It’s weird. I feel as if death touched me, and when it left, part of it stayed behind—like poison seeping into every corner of my body, slowly killing me.” Alice casts a quick, insecure glance at her sister.
Julia frowns. “Death?” she exclaims. “What nonsense! I thought the other symptoms were improving? The aching of your joints? And your head?”
Alice shrugs. “I feel a little better today,” she repeats. Julia returns to her hair, adjusting a few pins, as Alice stares listlessly out the window. “Did William come home last night?” she asks softly.
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen him this morning.” Julia inspects her look in the mirror. “He must be working very hard.”
Alice raises an eyebrow. “You don’t honestly believe that, do you?”
“I’m not sure what you mean. What else would he be doing?” Julia responds in a light tone, turning back to Alice.
To Sara’s surprise, Alice’s eyes come alive, glimmering with sheer indignation and temporarily lifting the apathetic appearance from her face. “Are you being deliberately obtuse?” Alice’s voice is hushed but sharp. “Really! I may be your older sister, but I’m not quite senile. We both know what William’s about. What I don’t know is whether you mind it. I’ve heard the rumors. I’ve heard the whispers, suggesting, well… Suggesting the inconceivable! The question is, is it true? Are you just biding your time, waiting for me to disappear, so you can take my place? As a mother? As a wife?”
Julia stares at Alice, slack-jawed. “What? What are you saying? Of course not! I’m your sister! What you’re implying, it’s… preposterous! I could never… ever…! I don’t want to know how William is occupying his time when he’s not working. Why don’t you ask him? He’s your husband.”
Alice gets up from bed, the fire in her eyes extinguished to a dull glaze. She shakes her head lightly, as if confused by her own tirade. “You’re right, of course. Don’t mind me. I’m not well. But beware of my husband, Julia. He may offer you the world, but you’ll end up receiving more than you care for.”
As Alice exits the room, Julia stays behind, her face displaying an array of emotions: shock, bewilderment, and sorrow are all plainly reflected in the vanity mirror. And maybe, hidden between the folds of those three, is just a hint of guilt.
Chapter 11
Sara woke up to a tongue thoroughly cleaning her face. “Eeew, get off me, gross!” She pushed Estelle off the bed. Not discouraged, the dog leapt back up, wagging its curly tail, and tried to give Sara a few more enthusiastic, slobbering, bad-breath kisses. “No, I mean it, get off. I like you too, but not that much.” She put Estelle back on the floor. Her head was throbbing, and with some remorse, she thought back to the alcohol she had consumed the night before. After some digging around inside her purse she located some Tylenol. Still groggy, she swallowed two pills with the glass of water on the nightstand.
The pug started running around the bed, from one side to the other, all the while snorting happily. “Jeez, settle down, will you?” She got up. “How did you get in, anyway?” The guest room door was ajar, and she heard giggling from the hallway. She peeked out of her room and saw two naughty faces staring at her. The boys, still in their PJs, looked eerily identical. Upon seeing her, they bolted downstairs, almost suffocating with laughter.
After a quick shower she got dressed, trying to block out the panting of the pug as it observed her during her getting-ready process. She had tried to catch the dog to remove it from the bedroom, but it had taken refuge underneath the bed every time she got close. Once she realized Estelle was enjoying the game, Sara resolved to ignore her, without much success. “Really, can you breathe less loudly?” she grumbled to the dog. “And stop watching me, will you? The combination makes me uncomfortable.”
Once she was ready, she opened her bedroom door and the pug stormed off downstairs, almost knocking down Phoebe, who was coming up in her workout clothes.
“Good morning! I heard you met my boys. Sorry about that—they’re two little monsters. Tania’s supposed to watch them, but she can’t control them. No one can, really. The previous nanny quit.” She shrugged. “Want to come down for breakfast?”
The kitchen was a disaster, with the two boys and the pug running around as a desperate-looking twenty-something girl tried to coral the three perpetrators. Phoebe seemed unfazed. “Boys!” she barely raised her voice. “Listen to Tania. Go with her and get dressed—she’s taking you to the beach. If I hear you’ve been terrors, you’ll lose the iPad.”
The room went quiet. Without any further complaining, the boys disappeared upstairs with Tania. Phoebe sighed. “The iPad is like the magic word. It’s crazy. They’re almost four and already hooked on technology.” She poured a coffee for Sara. “Here. Grab whatever you want for breakfast. How did you sleep?”
“Oh, very well, thanks. Except I had another dream.” Sara put a bagel in the toaster. “I saw your great-great-grandmother.”
“You did?” Phoebe placed her coffee on the table with such force that half of it spilled over. “Shut up! What did she look like?”
“She was very beautiful. But she was ill—I think. I’m not quite sure what was going on.”
“What happened? In the dream?”
In between bites of her bagel, which she’d slathered with cream cheese, Sara told Phoebe what she saw.
Phoebe was awed. “Wow! Seriously? This is so intriguing! Wait, so what did she say? She was being poisoned?”
“No, she said she was ‘touched by death, seeping through her body like poison.’ That could mean anything, right? I took it to mean she had an illness, and maybe she was still experiencing the aftermath.”
“Maybe. But then there’s the implication that William and Julia had an affair. You could see how it could have happened. They have an affair, wait for the wife to die—or help her along—and then live happily ever after.”
“Yes, except they didn’t. Julia and Alice both died in the same year. And may I remind you—you’re talking about my great-great-grandmother as if she were a ruthless killer,” Sara said, a little offended.
“Maybe it was my great-great-grandfather doing the killing…” Phoebe said. She clearly had fewer qualms about having a potential murderer in her family tree. “Can you imagine?”
“No,” Sara said firmly. “I can’t. They don’t seem like murderers to me. Your great-great-grandmother looked distraught, tired, and like she was in need of a good meal. I’ll give you one thing, though: I had the impression the two sisters had a complicated relationship. There was a lot of resentment in that room, definitely a good portion of it coming from Alice. But I’m not sure it wasn’t mutual.”
Phoebe thought about thi
s for a while. “A lot of siblings fight, though. What illness do you think Alice had?”
“I don’t know. I’m not a doctor.”
“True. But Jean is…” Phoebe grabbed her phone. “Let’s call her.”
Sara violently shook her head. “No, no, no. We’re not going to bother a woman of science about my very unscientific dreams. No way. She’ll have me committed to an institution. She’ll never believe me. Don’t call. Please?”
“Too late.” Phoebe had already dialed the number.
After a few rings, Jean picked up. To Sara’s immense relief, Phoebe did not mention the dreams, but instead started talking about the picture she had found of Theresa. “I’d love to give it to you. Any chance we could meet in San Francisco again? I have some more information too. No, best to do it in person. I have to be there next week—Tuesday, would that work? Yeah? Great, let’s set it up.”
The phone call lasted less than two minutes.
“Jean isn’t very chatty on the phone, I’ve noticed that before. So I think it’s best we talk to her in person about your dreams,” Phoebe explained.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“Oh, it’ll be fine. Trust me.” Phoebe got up and rinsed her cup in the sink. “I’ve got to go, unfortunately. Work calls. Will you be okay today?”
Sara nodded, grateful Phoebe hadn’t offered to come with her. “Yeah. I should be, I think. It’s time.” It was time. And she had to do it alone.
Twenty minutes later, Sara was in her car, driving down the 405 toward Orange County. The sun was out in full force, burning the pavement and the air itself, which shimmered in the searing heat. Sara cranked up the air conditioning, but it didn’t make much of a difference; her car was in desperate need of a tune-up. The freeway was packed as usual, despite rush hour being over. She hated driving in Los Angeles—the heat, the freeway a never-ending ribbon of windshields and metal reflecting the sun, too many lanes and cars to keep track of—it put every driver on edge. Depending on the time, the speed at which you were moving along varied from a decent pace to a slow, painful crawl.
Finally, an hour and a half later, sweaty and sticky, Sara pulled into the cemetery parking lot. With heavy feet, she made her way to the grave. The oppressive heat had a firm hold on the cemetery too, wrapping it tightly, stifling the sounds and the air. Although Sara had been there only once, after the funeral—she was in the hospital during the burial—the location of the tombstone was engraved in her memory. One more turn, and there it was. Between the other graves, it looked neglected and naked, without flowers or mementos. The headstone was marble, clean and impersonal. Madelyn and Johan Eriksson. Beloved parents.
Her parents.
She knelt down, carefully arranging the flowers she had brought. They were already wilted from the heat, their sad, fragile petals drooping.
Without warning, Sara broke down. Folded up with her face resting on her knees, she let the floodgates open, let it all pour out, until there was nothing left. When she finally lifted her head, her eyes were red and swollen. She almost expected something to be different. But it wasn’t. It was still ridiculously hot. The headstone was the same as before. The flowers looked even more desperate.
“I miss you…” she said, her voice hoarse from crying. “I wish… I wish I could change things.”
No one answered. Her parents were gone. Only a stone with their names on it remained. With a sigh, she stood up and walked back to her car.
Chapter 12
The room is quiet. The two women are occupied: Julia is sitting behind a desk, writing, while Alice is on the sofa, reading a letter. Julia turns her head, observing her sister from behind. After a moment she says, “Have you written to Theresa yet?”
“Hmmm?” Alice looks up from her reading. “No, I haven’t. I can’t quite find the peace to write yet.” Her hands tremble ever so slightly.
Julia frowns. “She says she hasn’t heard from you for a long time. Why don’t you do it right now? I’m done.”
“Why don’t you… mind your own business?” Alice’s voice is polite, but with a sharp edge.
“Very well.” Julia shrugs.
With a slap, Alice places the letter on the sofa. “If you’re so fond of Theresa, maybe you should consider staying with her.”
It takes a while for Julia to respond. “Do you want us to leave?” she asks.
Alice shakes her head. “No. I don’t. You’re my sister. What I do want is for you to stop making me feel guilty. For being a horrible mother, a horrible wife. And now a horrible sister.”
“Oh, stop it. You’re not a horrible sister. Nor a horrible mother nor wife.” Julia walks over to Alice and sits next to her. “I love you. You’ve been so good to me and my boys.” She leans over and gives Alice a hug.
Alice stiffens, not returning the affectionate gesture.
Slowly Julia lets go of her. “What’s wrong?” she asks.
“You’re so… warm and nice. How do you remain this way—so friendly—after all that’s happened? After being left behind like you mean nothing?”
The words sting—Sara can tell. Even though Julia keeps her composure, her jaw clenches, the only outward sign of her pain.
“I’m sure he wishes he’d married you. Not me.” Alice sounds bitter.
“What are you talking about? William? Nonsense. Don’t you remember when you met him? He practically threw himself at your feet. How could he not? You turn every head. Still!” Julia says.
“It’s not like you and Edward. It never was.”
“I hope not. Look where that got me.” Julia blinks a few times, ridding her eyes of the watery sheen that covered them.
Alice grabs Julia’s wrist in a sudden movement. She pulls Julia closer.
“You need to be careful.” There is an urgency in her voice.
“Careful? Of what?” Julia says as she untangles herself from Alice’s grip.
“Him.” Alice is whispering now. “He killed the baby.”
Julia stares at her sister, wide-eyed. “Alice, the baby was a miscarriage. And then you fell ill. But you’re much better now, aren’t you?” Alice remains quiet, lost in her thoughts, and Julia gently pulls on her hand. “Aren’t you, Alice? You’re feeling better, right?”
“Some days…” She stares off into the distance.
“Alice?” A touch of uncertainty creeps into Julia’s voice.
Alice turns toward Julia, her eyes searching. “Promise me you’ll be careful. You can’t trust him.”
“Alice, I don’t know what you’re saying. What do you mean?”
“Father told me, you know.”
“Father? Alice, you’re making little sense. Father told you what?”
“He told me—about William. Don’t give in. You used to like him, remember?”
All color drains from Julia’s face. “That was a long time ago. I like to think I’m not the kind of woman to steal another woman’s man. I know too well how it feels to be on the other side.”
Alice cocks her head, pursing her lips. “I didn’t steal him, Julia. You said it yourself: he practically threw himself at my feet.”
“I was referring to Edward, Alice.” Irritated, Julia shakes her head. “What did Father tell you? When?”
Alice nods eagerly. “The other night.”
“The other night?” Discomfort is written all over Julia’s face.
“Yes.”
“Alice,” Julia says, as if speaking to a child, “you know Father passed away, right? Six years ago?”
Alice frowns. “Of course I know. How could I forget?”
“Then—then how can he still be telling you things?”
Alice looks around, as if making sure no one is listening in. “I hear his voice. He tells me things.”
Julia lets out an audible breath. “I see.”
“You’re jealous. I knew it. You always presume you’re everyone’s favorite. But not Father’s, Julia. I’m his favorite.” The prideful tone is har
d to miss.
“I know you are, Alice. You always were. I’m not jealous. You’re my sister, after all.” Julia gives Alice a forced smile. “And please stop worrying about me and William. I’m still very much a married woman. Besides, I think you misjudge William. He loves you. I’m sure of it.”
“You think?” Alice looks relieved now, smiling like a little girl.
After a short silence, Julia asks, “Alice, I thought the doctor had given you a new medicine? For your headaches? Have you been taking it? Is it helping?”
“Yes, a little. Why?”
“I was just wondering what he’d given you, that’s all.”
“I couldn’t tell you. I guess I could check the bottle. Maybe some other time. I’m tired now.” Alice gets up and lovingly strokes Julia’s hair before planting a kiss on her head. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Alice. Sleep well.”
Alice walks out of the room, and Julia watches her go.
Sara has never seen anyone look so sad and lost as her great-great-grandmother looks in this moment. The gloom expands out from her like a balloon, heavy and slow, pushing against Sara. But it’s not just sadness—there is another emotion clinging to her, weighing her down, nauseating her—one that's easy to recognize since she knows it well. It’s guilt.
Chapter 13
The fog had dissipated, and San Francisco was slowly warming up in the summer sun. Soon she would have to shed some layers, but for now Sara was still grateful for the thin sweater she wore. She closed the front door and walked toward the bus stop.
While waiting for the Muni, she checked her phone again. Over the last two days, she had checked her phone more times than she could count. There were no missed calls and no voicemails. It seemed as though David had dropped off the face of the earth.
Miserable, her thoughts went to her stay with Phoebe. After visiting her parents’ grave, Sara had returned to Phoebe’s house an emotional mess. But Phoebe, anticipating this, had been waiting for her. They took a walk on the beach with the twins, enjoying the cooler breeze, and had dinner there, looking out over the Pacific. It had felt natural to open up to Phoebe, which came as a surprise to Sara. Their relationship was hard to define—friends, perhaps, but not quite. Family—on paper at least—but far removed. Phoebe felt so much closer, though. Like a sister, although Sara, having no siblings, was not quite sure what that felt like. Alice and Julia did not seem like the greatest examples.
A Dose of Deadly Intentions Page 7