She was silent, her chest rising and falling with heavy breaths and she stared me down.
“The wallpaper here cost a fortune. And…have you been smoking?”
“My husband just died, Loren. Perhaps you forget.”
I huffed out a breath. “Perhaps I don’t forget, Coralee. And I am sorry for your loss, but that doesn’t give you the right to do this. Any of this. You are not to do anything else to this house, or this room. You are not to smoke in my house. I won’t allow it. And please ask before you help yourself to my family heirlooms.”
“You’ll do well not to speak to me that way. I am not your child, Loren, and I will be respected.”
“I tried. I tried to respect you, I tried to make you feel welcome, but this…this has gone too far.” I felt tears stinging my eyes again, my whole body trembling with fury. “I’ll ask Jack to take you back to your home. Tonight. I’m sorry…this just isn’t going to work.”
To my surprise, her lips curled up into a slight smile. “Very well.”
I jerked my head back, trying to read her expression, though it sent chills right through me. Perhaps she didn’t believe me. I didn’t care. She needed to know I was serious. “He’ll be home soon. You should pack your things.”
“I’ll get right on it,” she said, making no move to do as I’d said.
Rynlee was staring up at me with wide eyes, and as much as I wanted to stay and enforce my words, I had to leave. I made a point of leaving the door open as we left, clutching the quilt as if it were a lifeline.
I hoped and prayed Jack would agree with me, that he would see how wrong she’d been in her choices. There was no way I could forgive her for this. Not now. Possibly not ever.
I heard the front door open as we descended the stairs. At the same time, I heard a door slam up above me. Coralee had shut her door.
Chapter Eighteen
Loren
I approached Jack with a lump in my throat, hardly able to hold myself together. His smile faded quickly when he saw me and saw the distress on my face.
“Ryn, can you go over to your easel and draw Mommy a picture before dinner?”
“But I already washed my hands,” she argued.
“It’s okay, sweetheart,” I said, giving her a nudge. She seemed unsure, but eventually gave in and made her way across the living room toward her easel and pulled out a coloring book, casting glances our way continuously to make sure we were still there. Merlin lay at her feet, yawning lazily.
“What happened?” he asked, looking down at the blanket. “Did she get paint on it?”
“No,” I told him. “Have you…have you seen what your mother’s done upstairs?”
His eyes traveled toward the stairs. “What do you mean? What’s she done?”
“I don’t…I don’t even know where to begin. She painted the walls—”
“She what?” He moved like he was going to go upstairs to her, but turned back around to me. “Are you serious?”
“Yes, she painted, and rearranged the furniture. And she’s been smoking up there. The room’s a disaster. She took my great-grandmother’s quilt,” I held it out toward him, “off the wall and spilled red wine on it and left cigarette burns on it.”
He seemed speechless as her offenses rolled off my tongue. When I was finished, he rubbed his jaw. “I can’t believe she’d do that. Loren, I’m—I’m so sorry. What can I do?” His eyes danced between meeting mine and looking at the staircase. “Let me talk to her. I’ll…I’ll fix this.”
“That wallpaper was original. It cost me a fortune. The room can be put back to normal as far as the furniture, and the smell can be aired out…eventually. But the paint, we can’t fix that. And I’m not sure there’s anything I can do to repair the holes in the quilt, even if by some miracle I can get the stains out. I’m sorry, Jack, I’ve tried…I’ve tried to be reasonable. I’m just not sure what else I can do. I can’t put up with anything else.”
“What are you saying?” His face grew instantly serious.
I sighed. “I’ve asked her to pack her things. I think it’s time for her to go home.”
“You’re…kicking her out?”
“Jack, I need you to back me up on this. I’ve tried to be hospitable. I’ve tried to make her feel welcome, but it’s just thing after thing that she’s done. One issue after the next and, I’m sorry, but this draws the line. Who comes to stay at a person’s house and paints the room they are in? It’s…it’s crazy.”
I was staring at him, begging him to agree with me, but I couldn’t read his stony-faced expression.
“I know she’s been difficult and, honestly, for the life of me, I can’t imagine what she was thinking with the paint. But, I’m sure she didn’t realize the quilt was important to you. She probably just grew chilly. And…she’s going through a lot, Lor. But if you just give me a chance to talk to her, I’ll make sure she understands how serious this all was. I can fix this. I promise you I can if you’ll just give me a chance. My dad just died, sweetheart. She just lost the love of her life. I can’t imagine how I’d feel if that was you…and we’ve not even been married a year. Imagine thirty-five.” He pulled me in for a hug. “I’m just so sorry, Lor. Can we…can we take the quilt to have it repaired? Surely we can find someone.”
“I’m sorry your dad died, Jack. I am. But that can’t keep being the excuse we use to put aside all she’s done. It can’t. This is too much.” I pushed away from him, too angry for comfort. He needed to see reason.
“You don’t know what it’s like to—”
“I don’t know what it’s like to…to what, Jack? To lose someone important to me? My parents died. The man I planned to raise my child with walked out. I know what it’s like to lose people. I know what pain feels like, but that doesn’t give her or me or anyone else the right to destroy the property, or lives, of anyone else.”
“She’s destroying your life now?” he asked, an edge to his tone. He folded his arms over his chest, raising a palm to rub his jaw. “It’s…it’s a quilt, Loren. And wallpaper. Things that can be fixed or replaced. This is my mother. I’m willing to call her out. What she’s done is wrong, and I won’t let her get away with it, but throwing her out seems extreme. You know how close we are.” I thought of the wedding night then, fresh anger filling me.
“Yes, you’ve made that abundantly clear.”
“You don’t know what it’ll do to me to have to ask her to leave. Please just…let her have a bit more time.”
I picked at a piece of skin around my fingernails, staring at the dried blood on my palms. “Jack, I don’t want to fight with you, but…can’t you see what this is doing to us? To me?”
“You know, I never took you as a selfish person, Loren, but right now…I’m really not liking this version of you. She’s my mother—”
“I tried—”
“Did you?” he asked, his voice too loud. Rynlee spun around to look at us, shocked by his outburst. He smiled at her, as did I, assuring her everything was fine. When she turned back to her art, he lowered his voice. “I don’t feel like you’ve given her a fair chance to fit in here. She stays hidden because she’s scared to do something wrong and upset you. I know it was your house before, Loren, but isn’t it our house now? Don’t I get a say in this?”
I frowned. Technically, yes, he was right. It was his house, too. I don’t know why I’d never thought of it that way, the idea of splitting the only thing I’d ever truly owned terrified me, but I couldn’t argue.
He stepped toward me. “I’ll talk to her, okay? I’ll fix the wallpaper, reorder it and install it myself if I have to. I’ll talk to her about the smoking, and I’ll find the best quilt-fixer there is,” he smiled, trying to get me to smile back, but I refused, “to repair your grandmother’s quilt. We’ll fix this, but I just…I can’t ask her to leave right now. I’m sorry. I’m asking you, as your husband, to give her a bit more time.”
He said he was asking, but we both knew it wasn’t a question. The argument wa
s over. I nodded, not meeting his eyes, though I could feel his stare burning into me.
“Fine. But, Jack, if she does anything else—” I hated myself for agreeing, but as I stared past him, toward Rynlee, I knew I needed to keep things peaceful if at all possible. I needed a happy husband, a happy father for her. Coralee’s presence in our home wasn’t permanent. Soon, she’d be out of our hair, and I needed to keep my marriage strong for when that time came.
“She won’t. I swear. I’m going to address this right now.” He touched my arm, letting me know this wasn’t a fight, and walked past me toward the stairs. When he was gone, I felt new tears in my eyes as I looked toward my daughter.
What had I done to our once peaceful lives for the sake of love? I’d promised myself my next relationship, my marriage, would be permanent. It would last, if not for my own happiness, then for Rynlee’s. My little girl loved Jack. I loved Jack. I could make peace for the next few days. Ride out the storm.
Still, a question echoed in my head, taunting me. What do I really know about this family?
Chapter Nineteen
Loren
That night, Rynlee slept in between us, her eyes fluttering with peaceful dreams. Despite not having slept much the night before, I couldn’t bring myself to drift off.
After a few desperate hours, I found myself wondering again about Rynlee’s room. What had I missed? What was the feeling I couldn’t seem to shake—that I’d overlooked something important, that there was something disturbing going on just under my nose. I couldn’t simply disregard the fact that my daughter, who’d never been one to wake in the middle of the night due to nightmares or strange noises, was now too afraid to be left alone in a house she’d grown up in just weeks after my mother-in-law moved in.
Odd, at best, but I suspected there was more to it. I didn’t trust Coralee. That was the bottom line, and I was determined to prove to Jack I was right about her. I needed to catch her in the act of doing something unforgivable and unexplainable—unlike the markers or even the cookies. He’d found so much to reason in her guilt, able to push most everything off on that, but I knew eventually she’d slip up, and when she did, I’d be there to catch her in the act. I held onto that hope to keep me sane.
I pushed the covers from my legs, not entirely sure where I was headed until I arrived at my daughter’s door. I stepped into the room, the temperature a bit warmer than the hall, and stared around in the darkness. I moved around the room, looking for anything new out of place, but didn’t see anything strange.
What did she hear? The answer had to be there.
I sat down on the edge of her bed, pulling the comforter back and sliding down under the covers. Her pillow was smaller than mine, with less support, so my head sank down practically to the mattress, and I made a mental note to buy her a new one soon.
My breaths came quickly, the sound like white noise in my ears as I stared at the ceiling of her room, willing the noise to come again. Was it possible we had a mouse? I reasoned that it wasn’t impossible. We’d had them before. In a house as old as ours, it was a full-time job keeping them out, but I hadn’t seen one yet that year.
If it were a mouse, just hearing its noises would’ve calmed my nerves, I was sure. I wanted the noise to be explainable. I wanted to hear an owl, or the wind blowing a tree branch into her window. I wanted it to be nothing.
For the longest time, it was literally that. Nothing. Silence. The sound of the heat kicking on, drowning out any chance of hearing anything else.
When I finally heard it, it roused me from sleep, though I hadn’t realized I’d finally dozed off. My eyes darted open, but I didn’t dare move any other part of me. Ice cold fear shot through me like lightning.
Scraaaaaatch.
Scraaaaatch.
Scraaaaaatch.
The noise whined above me, the unmistakable sound of scratching against wood. A tool of some kind. The noise was coming from directly above my head—Coralee’s room.
I threw the covers back, stepping out of bed. What the hell is she doing? I darted from the room, hurrying down the hall and up the stairs before she had a chance to stop.
I grabbed for the golden handle, shoving her door open as quickly as I’d arrived to it, without a knock for a warning. I didn’t want to give her the chance to stop whatever it was she was doing.
To my surprise, the room was dark, lit only by a small lamp near the bed. Coralee was sitting in an old rocker, a book in her hand, glasses balanced on the end of her nose, though her eyes were on me rather than the book.
“What on earth are you doing?” she asked, not moving out of her seat. I looked around the room—to my surprise, she’d arranged the furniture back to the way I’d had it, though the yellow paint and horrid smell weren’t gone.
“Did you hear that noise?” I demanded.
“The polite thing to do before entering a bedroom, is knock, Loren.” She set her book down on the nightstand beside her and pulled the glasses from her face. “I’d appreciate it if you’d start doing that.”
“Aren’t you going to answer me?”
“Aren’t you going to start respecting my privacy?” There was a crooked, slight grin on her face. She was enjoying this. She was enjoying my slow descent into madness.
“Coralee, whatever issue you have with me, your games are scaring my daughter. Rynlee has nothing to do with this.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said simply. “Shut the door on your way out.”
“I’m not leaving until you tell me what your plan is here. Why are you being so horrible to us? Why do you hate me?” I demanded, my lack of sleep speaking for me. “What have I ever done to you?”
She offered a loud laugh, and I heard footsteps headed our direction. Heavy footsteps. Jack’s footsteps. “What were you doing up here? What was that noise?” I demanded, knowing my time was running up. She could see it too, I could tell. When she answered, her voice was slow and methodical.
“I didn’t hear a thing.”
Jack was up the stairs and coming down the hall, rubbing sleep from his worried eyes. To my relief, Rynlee wasn’t with him.
“What are you doing? Is everything okay?” he asked, looking at me, and then, when he grew closer, at his mother.
“Ask your wife,” Coralee answered. “She just barged into my room without so much as a knock. Scared me half to death.”
“Is that true?” Jack asked, looking at me with dread.
“I…well, yes, but…I stayed in Rynlee’s room for a while, trying to see if I’d hear the noise again.”
“You what? I told you it was just—”
“It wasn’t, Jack! I heard it again, and it was loud. A loud scraping noise. Coming from this room.” I looked at Coralee, daring her to explain. “She’s trying to scare Rynlee.”
“What are you talking about? Why would she want to do that? It could’ve been anything, Loren. You can’t just go around—”
Scraaaaatch.
Scraaaaatch.
Scraaaaatch.
The conversation halted as our attention was drawn back to my mother-in-law. Her icy gray eyes bore into mine, her hands folded across her chest as she pushed the rocking chair with her feet, the bottom scraping the hardwood floor and recreating a sound much like the one I’d heard.
“Was…this the sound?” she asked, feigning innocence.
I stared at her, listening to the moan of the rocker as it moved, my eyes blinking back unexpected tears.
“Was it?” Jack asked when I didn’t answer right away.
“I’m sorry if I was scaring little Rynlee. I didn’t think about it. I’m…well, it’s embarrassing to admit, but I’m having trouble sleeping at night without Malcolm, so I’ve stayed up reading. The rocking motion calms me, but I can stop if it’s disturbing you.”
I bit the inside of my cheek, fury filling me, though I couldn’t let it show. She’d known exactly what she was doing. I could see it in the way her face changed when
Jack was no longer looking at her. This was a game, and she was playing her hand all too well.
“Is that what you were hearing, Loren?” Jack asked again.
“Possibly, but I can’t be sure,” I said, and it was true. The noise had seemed much louder from the quiet bedroom below, but that didn’t mean anything necessarily. Sound traveled weirdly through our old house, always had. Some rooms seemed paper thin, while others were basically soundproof.
Jack, seeming to understand, put a hand on my back. “Mom, do you mind not doing that? Your room is right above Rynlee’s, and it does seem to be frightening her.”
She smiled dotingly at him. “Of course, dear. I’m sorry about that.”
He nodded, believing it was done. “Right. Now, that’s settled. Everybody happy? Sorry to disturb you, Mom. We’ll just go to bed.”
I took an even breath to try and stay calm, frustrated that she always seemed able to explain away her crimes.
“That’s quite all right, dear,” she said, though she stood as we began to leave. “I know you’ll do whatever it takes to protect Rynlee.” Her gaze caused mine to falter slightly as she moved toward us. “I would do the same for my child. It’s a mother’s love. I am sorry for disturbing her, though, and I’ll try to keep it down when it’s this late.” I turned, walking out of the room with Jack’s insistent hand on my back. “But, Loren?” she said, causing me to look back at her. “Next time, you will knock, won’t you?” There was a smile on her face, one that I knew Jack was buying into completely, but I saw the evil behind the mask. She shut the door without waiting for my answer, and I heard a swift click letting me know she’d locked it behind her.
Chapter Twenty
Loren
Need to talk to you. Please call me when you get a chance.
I sent the text to Meredith the next morning when I arrived at the store. As much as I didn’t want to bother her, I needed to talk to someone who I knew would be on my side. No matter what, Meredith would know what to do. In every situation of my life, she’d been the advice-giver, and without her, I felt lost.
The Mother-in-Law Page 10
