The Good Neighbors

by Kiersten Modglin

  Thirty-Nine

  Harper

  Bryant searched through the papers from their mortgage closing, finding the name of their seller and tracking her down on Facebook. He sent her a message, asking if there was a way they could get in touch. He said he needed some information about the house, and then once he got ahold of her, he told Harper he would ask her all about the strange things that were happening and the even stranger couple next door.

  After he left for work, promising to let her know the second he heard anything, Harper sat in front of the computer, staring at a screen and wondering what to do next. Going to Chicago was still important to her. She still felt like it was the right thing to do…but could she leave now? When Bryant was so…afraid? It no longer felt like an option.

  She glanced out the window, surprised to see Jason and Tori below in their yard. She rolled closer to the glass, trying to make out what was happening. It looked like an argument, though they’d always seemed so perfect. What on earth could they be fighting about?

  Then it hit her, like it so often did, the remembering. What her husband had done. There were fleeting moments when the truth seemed to slip her mind, but it always came back. It wouldn’t leave her for long. The couple spoke heatedly, Tori’s arms waving wildly at her sides. Harper leaned even closer toward the pane, but she still couldn’t make out what they were saying. Could she open the window without them noticing?

  She watched for a few more moments before curiosity got the best of her and she unlatched the window, easing it up carefully. No sooner had she slid it up an inch than her worst nightmare occurred. Suddenly, the watcher became the watched. Jason and Tori’s eyes darted toward her as the window groaned, and she knew she’d been caught. She closed it quickly, her heart pounding, and darted away from the window. Her breathing was erratic as she tried to reason with herself that they may not assume she had been trying to eavesdrop. Perhaps she’d just been opening the window in order to let in a breeze and then closed it when she realized she’d interrupted a quiet moment. Yes, that was it. That would be her story.

  The sudden ringing of the doorbell interrupted her thoughts. She paced the office, trying to decide what she should do, hoping they would just go away. When the doorbell rang again, she opened the office door and hurried down the stairs, her pulse so loud she could hear nothing else. She whipped open the door, trying to catch her breath, and stared at Jason.

  “Hey, sorry—” she blurted out. So much for playing it cool. “I wasn’t eavesdropping. I just…I needed some fresh air, and when I saw you guys were outside I—”

  “It’s fine, Harper, that’s not why I’m here.”

  “Oh,” she said, her jaw dropping. “It’s not?”

  “No,” he said, shaking his head. “No, it’s not. Is Bryant here?”

  “Oh,” she said again, her tone giving her away.

  His expression changed, and he stepped into the house without permission. “You knew?” he asked, and suddenly she knew he knew.

  She nodded. “I’m sorry…I should’ve told you. I’m just…I’m still processing.”

  “Yeah,” he said, “me too. What are you…what are you doing?”

  “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I’m thinking of going back to Chicago for a while.”

  “Don’t—” he said, stepping forward and taking her hand. “You can’t leave.”

  She stared at him, her brow furrowed. “Why not?”

  “Because…well…” He leaned down, catching her by surprise as his lips connected with hers. For a moment, she was still, feeling the unfamiliar skin against hers and the kiss that felt so new. He put a hand to her cheek, cupping her face. He smelled different—warmer than Bryant somehow. Bryant.

  She stepped back, shaking her head. “I can’t. I’m sorry…I—you should go.” She rubbed her bottom lip, wiping away his taste. Coffee and cinnamon.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking. I’ve wanted to do that for so—”

  “You’re married,” she said firmly, putting a hand to his chest to stop him as he tried to move closer. “I’m married. I just…I can’t do this. I can’t—” She broke off into sudden tears, one hand over her mouth. “You need to go,” she said with a sob.

  He took a step back, his eyes locked with hers. “I’m so sorry, Harper. I never meant to upset you. I…I care about you. I wanted you to know that.”

  She nodded. “Thank you.” It was all she could manage to say.

  “If you…um, if you need anything, I’m here.” He pulled the door open, disappearing out of it quickly without another word.

  When she was sure he could no longer hear her, she sank into a nearby chair, one hand over her mouth, trying desperately to stifle the sobs that tore out of her. What had she done? What had Bryant done? What could they do now? The pain of everything that had happened crashed into her like ocean waves, tears flooding her eyes as she finally gave in to the overwhelming sense of grief for what had been. What may never be again.

  She put her hand to her stomach, to the child whose life would be affected by her every move, and cried louder, because what on earth was she going to do?

  Forty

  Harper

  Bryant arrived home three hours early, finding Harper still on the couch, where she had remained since Jason’s departure. Finally, her tears had dried, though she still felt as hopeless and alone as ever.

  “What are you doing home early?” she asked, though she could tell by the look on his face that something was very wrong.

  “I got a message back from the old owner.”

  Harper shot up from the couch. “What did she say?”

  He swallowed, unlocking his phone. His hands were shaking. “It’s not good, Harp. It’s…I think we may be in danger.”

  “Danger?” she asked. “What on earth are you talking about?”

  “She wouldn’t tell me much,” he said, “but she said that she had strange encounters with them. She said that she always felt like they were watching her.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah,” he confirmed. “She gave me her email, and I asked her to tell me more about the neighbors. I asked if they ever bothered her. And I mean, she didn’t mention the shower thing, but she said they gave her the creeps. I asked her to tell me more, but she hasn’t responded. I’m…I’m really freaking out here, Harper.” His nervous laugh and the way he ran his hand over the back of his neck told her that was true. This was not okay.

  “We need to leave,” she said firmly. “We need to go back to Chicago.”

  He swallowed. “But what about work? And insurance? And our house?”

  “We’ll figure something out. What I care about right now is our safety. The baby’s safety. I can’t…I can’t stay here.” She paused, debating on telling him about the kiss, but decided against it. It didn’t matter. They were leaving. They were going to get away.

  “Okay,” he said seriously. “I’ll contact a realtor tomorrow.” He reached for her arm, running a thumb over it. “It’s all going to be okay.”

  She pressed her lips together, fighting the urge to pull away from him. She wanted to be angry—and she was. But she couldn’t deny that they were in this together. That they would need each other to make it through everything that lay ahead. She had no idea what the future held, but she couldn’t do it alone, and as her husband leaned forward, rocking her in his arms, she was immensely thankful she wouldn’t have to.

  Forty-One

  Harper

  Two weeks later, Harper sat at the computer, staring at the blank screen. She was supposed to be packing, but the days where she could go nonstop were long since over. With the baby growing, her symptoms—namely exhaustion—were getting worse every day.

  So, she’d taken to searching for a new apartment for them in Chicago, and gawking at the price increase in the few months since they’d been gone. She didn’t even want to think about daycares, which as they currently stood were a whopping thousand dollars a
month. But it was home. They’d make it work. They had to. What was really stalling them was searching for new jobs in Chicago. The idea of losing insurance with a baby on the way was debilitating. Not to mention trying to cram into her parents’ home for too long, which had never been appealing. They needed their own space.

  Overwhelmed with her search, she’d found a new topic to begin researching. She scrolled through pages and pages of ‘Tori and Jason Fuller’ results.

  Finally, she saw something that caught her eye: a headline from fourteen years ago.

  Eleven Dead, Two Survive Dublin House Fire

  She clicked on the link, skimming through the article.

  Eleven people are dead after a house fire in Dublin early Monday morning. Around 4:00 A.M., police and fire departments were called to a residence on East Filmore Street in Dublin. Upon arrival, firemen were able to rescue two victims from the residence. Shortly after, the home collapsed, killing the remaining inhabitants—Marshall and Evelyn Fuller and their nine children. Six of the children were placed in the Fullers’ care through the foster care system. The sole survivors were Jason Fuller, 18, and Tori Breeland, 16.

  At this time, residents are being asked to stay away from this side of town. Streets are blocked off and fire crews are working hard to clean up the mess left behind by this devastation. We are being told that police do not suspect foul play, but they are conducting a thorough investigation. The report will be released later this month.

  She scrolled down a bit to a brightly lit shot of Jason and Tori standing in front of a smoldering building. The night was dark around them, and it looked as if the flash had caught them off guard, making their already pale faces even more ashen. They had thick, gray blankets around their shoulders, and Jason had an arm around her. Even then, he was protective over her.

  Harper couldn’t help but feel like it was strange that Tori and Jason had been foster siblings—it seemed like a gray area for relationships at best—but she pushed the thought aside as she backed out of the article.

  She scrolled back up to the top, searching for their names along with a new location: Dublin, Tennessee. The top article was one about a homeschooling group led by Marshall and Evelyn Fuller. She clicked on it, scrolling through it without reading the quotes from Evelyn about how wholesome their life had become since they’d made the decision to homeschool their children, foster care children excluded. They were leading a group from the community on weekly field trips and seeking out fellow homeschooling parents to join them.

  Harper couldn’t deny the chill that ran down her spine as she stared at the picture at the top of the article, where Marshall and Evelyn, clad in bland suits with their hair perfectly coiffed, smiled up at the camera. They were almost too perfect. Evelyn with her red-brown hair and large teeth, and Marshall with his strawberry-blond hair and circular glasses. They were practically an ad for cheesy studio shots the nineties had made popular.

  She scrolled down, noticing another picture of the Fullers with their three children: Jason, Jessica, and Jordyn. The siblings had their wiry arms wrapped around each other, the girls in long skirts and polo shirts and Jason in khakis and a blue shirt and tie.

  As Harper looked even closer, she let out a gasp, covering her mouth with one hand as she felt sickness climbing into her throat. She read over the caption just to be sure. Marshall and Evelyn Fuller pictured with their three children: (left to right) Jessica, Jordyn, and Jason. She sucked in a deep breath.

  The man she was staring at was not Jason Fuller.

  Forty-Two

  Harper

  Harper printed the page quickly, watching over her shoulder as panic set in. She exited out of the website, pushing the chair up to the desk as she dialed Bryant’s number.

  “Hello?” he asked.

  “C-come home,” she said, her voice shaking. “Please come home.”

  “Harper? What is it? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

  “I’m okay…I just need you to come home. I…I found something.”

  “What did you find?” he demanded. “You’re scaring me.”

  “I just…please come—” She squealed as she heard the doorbell sounding below, and she knew who it must be.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “Someone’s at the door,” she whispered. “Someone’s here.”

  “Who is it?”

  “I don’t know.” She sank to the floor. “Jason and Tori…they aren’t who we think they are, Bryant.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I think we’re in very real danger here. Please just come home.”

  “Listen to me,” he said firmly, the fear evident in his voice. She heard his class quiet down in the background, and she knew they must sense that something was wrong as well. “Get in a closet. The baseball bat is in the back of ours. Get in there and do not come out until I get home, okay? I’m leaving now.” She heard him shutting a door that told her he truly was. “I love you, okay?”

  “I love you, too,” she said softly, listening carefully as the doorbell down below rang again.

  She stood up, walking toward the door and creeping across the hall while trying to make as little noise as possible. She couldn’t let them hear her, though she knew they knew she was home. Her car was in the driveway, after all. Her throat was dry as she sank into the closet, taking hold of the metal baseball bat and promising the child in her stomach that she’d protect him or her with everything she had.

  After a moment, the doorbell stopped ringing and she listened to her own shallow breathing. Had they given up? Were they gone? What did they want with her?

  She jumped, letting out a scream as a piercing noise rang out. Her phone. She reached in her pocket, staring at a number she vaguely recognized on her screen.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello? Is this Ms. Page?”

  “It is, who is this?”

  “This is Angie calling from The Women’s Center. I was just calling to follow up about the form you filled out on our website. I wanted to see if now was a good time to chat?”

  “A form on your website? What are you talking about?”

  “You didn’t fill out a form on our website?” she asked skeptically.

  “Of course I didn’t. I’ve never even heard of you before.”

  “Ms. Page…it’s perfectly okay to be scared, but please don’t put off the conversation if you truly do want to know your options. Trust me, there is no judgement here. We help women make the best decision for themselves, and we have trained staff who can answer any and all questions you may have. Then, when the time is right, if you decide to go through with an abortion or adoption, we can guide you through the steps.”

  “Excuse me?” She reeled back, forgetting that she was trying to be quiet. “An abortion? I would never.”

  “I understand if you’ve changed your mind, but our office is a safe space to talk about whatever may be going on in your mind or your life—”

  “I haven’t changed my mind,” she said angrily, “because that was never an option to begin with. Now, I’m not sure if this is some sort of prank, but this is the second time your office has called me.”

  “I’m sorry, it sounds like I’ve upset you. I can assure you that this isn’t a prank. We are responding to an online query to this number.”

  “Maybe you misdialed.”

  “Are you Harper Page?”

  “I am.” The lady was quiet for a moment. “Look, could you just put me on a do-not-call list?” Harper asked, clutching her stomach.

  “I’ll…I’ll make a note. I’m sorry to have disturbed you, but if something does come up…please know you may call back at any time.”

  She nodded, though the receptionist couldn’t see her. “Thank you. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to yell at you.”

  “I know,” she said patiently. “It’s a stressful time. Take care, Ms. Page.”

  With that, Harper pressed the button on her screen to end the call and let out a bre
ath. She sat still, her thoughts racing as she replayed the conversation, listening carefully for the sound of footsteps. Had the person at the door left? The bell hadn’t rung in the time that she’d been on the phone. She looked down at her phone as it began to ring again and her screen was lit up with the same number.

  “H-hello?”

  “Hi! Is this Harper Page?”

  “Who is this?” she demanded.

  “This is Gracie calling from The Women’s Center—”

  “Don’t call me again!” she screamed, ending the call with shaking fingers. She opened up her recent calls, selecting the number and blocking it. There was no longer any possibility that it was a coincidence that they were calling her. Just like the mail that they hadn’t subscribed to continuing to come. Someone was trying to drive them crazy, and it was working.

  After a few minutes, she heard Bryant’s voice, and relief flooded her. She was safe now. She could breathe easily again.

  “Harp?” she heard him calling, and she stood, reaching to open the closet door.

  “I’m up here,” she said. “In the bedroom. I’m okay.”

  She heard his hurried footsteps rushing toward her, and as the bedroom door was flung open, he grabbed her, pulling her into a quick hug and kissing her head over and over. One hand went to her stomach. She could feel his heart pounding against her hands. “You’re okay? You’re sure?” he asked, looking to her belly and then kissing her face again. He cupped her cheeks. “I’ve never been so worried in my life. I think I broke every speed limit in town on the way here. Are you sure you’re okay? What happened?”