by Anita Higman
She stiffened. “You’ve misunderstood me.” “How?”
“I didn’t come here to ask for forgiveness.” Annie gave me a smirk. “But I will tell you my story. While I was still married to Sam, I met someone in the hotel where I worked, a real sweet talker named Camden Monroe. I tell you, that man could charm the wool right off a whole flock of sheep. He romanced me away from Sam the same way I romanced Sam away from you.” She seemed to study me. “I thought you’d find that ironic. Or at least funny. Humph, guess not. Anyway, I thought Camden had a real promising future in Washington but came to find out his future would be in prison for mail fraud.” She paused for a moment. “After it was all over with, I realized I’d made a terrible mistake. I still loved Sam.”
“I’m sorry,” was I could think to say.
“Why did I just tell you all that?” Annie narrowed her eyes. “Sam has come by your house to see you. Hasn’t he?”
“Yes.” I cleared my throat. “You know, he seemed pretty brokenhearted that you left him.”
“Yeah, right. He was more like crazy angry that I dumped him.” Annie lifted the flap on her camouflage purse and pulled out a cigarette. “Anyway, I heard Sam was heading to Houston to find you. So, here I am.” She looked me over. “I was curious to see what he was coming after. Wanted to see how much better you looked than me.” Annie stared out the car window as she tapped her fingernails against the glass. “You know, Sam still talked about you even after we were married.
And not just in the friendship way either. He never got over you. Never stopped loving you.”
“I had no idea.” I glanced at her but didn’t want to stare. “That must have been painful.”
“Oh well, that was just the villain in the story getting her just deserts.” She cocked her head. “Wasn’t it?”
“Please understand, I don’t love Sam anymore. Not at all.” Annie needed to know how far I’d moved on, and yet I felt uneasy telling her about Max.
“Guess you got yourself another man to love you. That’s why you’re wearing that fancy black dress. You’ve been on a date.” Annie huffed. “Two men now. And I have none. Life just keeps getting better for you.”
I gripped the car seat. “Look, I talked to Sam. There was no love in his eyes. He was confused and angry. Sam needs to rethink his life. Make some serious changes.” And most of all, he needs to pray. Annie seemed to be in so much anguish, I reached out and touched her shoulder.
She jerked away, flinching as if I’d hit her. “Don’t do that.”
“Okay.” I couldn’t believe how far Annie had gotten away from all that was good. She’d always been my best friend—through dolls and birthday parties and playground bruises. And then through volleyball and acne and school plays. Friends forever, we promised each other as we linked hands in our own secret handshake. We’d even planned to raise our families next door to each other—be the best friends any neighborhood had ever seen. But all that was gone. When Annie arrived, she’d asked me if I knew who she was. But I could see now I didn’t recognize her at all. She was nothing like the old Annie. And it tore at my heart. “I need to say something, if it’s all right.”
“What?”
“I can’t help you get Sam back, but I can pray for you both.” What I didn’t say was that their remarriage right now would be as hazardous as setting gunpowder next to a box of matches. But somehow I didn’t think she’d be open to any marital advice. Or me telling her of Sam’s dangerous temper. But then Annie would have had more intimate knowledge about that subject anyway, since she’d been married to him.
“Don’t pray for me.” Annie’s eyes darkened with what looked like hatred. “Praying for me means you think you’re superior. Like you’re the winner and I’m not.”
My hand clutched my heart. “But this isn’t a game.” “Of course it is.” Annie pounded her fist on the steering wheel. “Whoever wins Sam’s heart wins it all.”
God, help her to believe me. “But I don’t want Sam’s heart.”
“So you say.”
I sighed, wondering how people could get things so mixed up in their heads.
Annie mumbled something. And then all the car door locks thumped down, closing us in.
Great. Now why would she do that? Perhaps Annie had become as unbalanced as Sam. I glanced down at the buttons by my elbow, but it was hard to tell for sure which one would open my door. Could I be in any danger? While Annie stared out the window watching a stray cat, I scanned the car for any object that she might decide to use as a weapon. The idea seemed ridiculous, and yet her flashes of anger frightened me. I saw a cigarette lighter on the dashboard, but I doubted she could stab me to death with such a friendly edged object. And a lighter wouldn’t be the fastest way to set a moving target on fire. Unless, of course, that target was unconscious.
A chill seeped through me as the night closed in around us.
20 – A Passage of Horrors
“So tell me, how did you come to own this incredible house?” Annie turned back to me, smiling, her voice and attitude now as amiable as it had been in our youth. “It looks like a castle.”
Seeing the old Annie startled me so much I gasped. Fortunately, she didn’t seem to notice my reaction. How could her personality change so dramatically? I’d better keep talking like nothing’s wrong. “Yes, Granny always wanted me to have this house. And so when she died, she left it to me.” Hmm. Shouldn’t have used the word “died.” Once again, I studied the buttons on the side panel, trying to figure out which one to push.
“And now you’re going to fix it up. . .make it into a home.”
I nodded, wondering where Annie was going with the conversation. Somehow this new chat sounded even more surreal. If that were possible. “Yes, I have some pretty good plans.” Someone’s dog barked, and I suddenly wished I lived on a noisy bustling street. I wished Max would come whisk me away for coffee. I wished my visitor had really been a saleswoman.
“Well, please tell me more.”
A drop of perspiration fell on my hand. I was sweating. Heavily. “It’s kind of warm in here.” I chuckled. Then I noticed a flicker of something in her expression. She could probably smell the fear on me. Not good.
Annie handed me a tissue from her purse.
I dabbed at the wetness on my face while my mouth went dry.
“You were saying?”
“Well, what exactly do you want to know about my house?”
“Oh, I don’t know, Bailey. I’d like to know anything you want to tell me. I’ve never had a real home, except for a series of rundown apartments, so it’d be nice to hear about yours.”
Okay, time to go. “It’s all pretty boring stuff.” I yawned. “You know what? I’m kind of tired. So if it’s all right with you, I’m going to call it a night.”
“But we were just starting to understand each other. Weren’t we?” Annie’s fingers tightened, crushing the cigarette in her hand.
“I’m not sure, really, what’s happening here. To be honest, I think you have some issues you need to deal with. I wish you and Sam the very best.” I pushed one of the buttons on the door, hoping it was the right one. It was. “Good night.”
“But I’m being kind to you!”
I reached for the door handle and then turned back to her. “If you think this is kindness, then you need a good book on etiquette.” My voice got a little higher than I expected. “I’ve done you no harm, Annie. You know that.”
She leaned closer to me. “You do me harm simply by being alive.” Her words came out in a hiss. She reached into her purse and paused.
I should just get out of the car now. Open the door. Walk away. But for some inane reason, I felt compelled to ask more questions. “So you’re hiding a gun in your purse? You actually want to shoot me? What do you think that would solve? Sam can’t hold you while you’re in a women’s correctional facility.” Why had I said that? I could have picked any words but those. I opened the car door, ready to run.
Anni
e pulled her hand out of her purse. “There’s no gun, you fool. I had a toothpick. To dig all those fattening donut crumbs out of my teeth.” Then she howled with laughter.
I was not amused. At all. It was easy to see why
Annie had soured me on friendships for years.
“Oh, come on. Where’s your sense of humor?” She waved me back inside. “Close the door. I want to talk about this forgiveness thing you’re so obsessed about.” She stuck the toothpick in her mouth and chewed.
I left the door open. It took a few seconds to calm my breathing from her dark prank. I was fairly certain Annie had no intention of discussing forgiveness, but I stayed to give her one last chance. For what, I no longer knew.
“It’s hard to forgive.” The lines in Annie’s face softened. “Impossible, really. But the problem is, the offenses keep piling up, and you don’t know what to do with them. It gets kinda crowded in my head, shuffling and keeping tabs on them all.”
“I didn’t forgive you on my own. I had help.”
She pressed her palms together. “Oh, I know where this one is going. The Lord will help me forgive all my debtors. Right?” Her body twitched as she turned to me. “But I choose not to forgive. How about that, Bailey Marie Walker?” She sort of sing-songed the last part.
“Well, there’s always free will.” I looked away. My patience was hanging by a strip of dental floss. Extra thin and waxed. Annie was just setting the table for another joke. With me as the centerpiece. “It really is time for me to go. Good-bye, Annie.” I reached out to shake her hand. “Can we at least part on friendly terms?”
“I don’t think so.” She waved off my handshake. “Look, if you gotta go, then go.” She glared at me. “Before I unleash some of my free will on you.”
I did so, happily, never looking back. Good-bye, Annie. I speed-walked up to my porch and then breathed again. Lord, Annie must really be in a lot of misery to be so cruel. Please help her find her way. Amen.
Well, my prayer certainly didn’t “storm heaven” as Granny always said, but at least it was sincere.
I waited for Annie to start her engine, and then I ventured a glance back at her car. Annie circled the cul-de-sac, paused, and then drove away. Her sedan rounded the corner and was soon out of sight. Gone. Just like that. At last, I let my guts unwind.
Wow. That was so random and bizarre. Not to mention ferociously unfair. It was like being sucked into an emotional time machine. Or a passage of horrors— one much worse than the one in my bedroom closet. And while I sat there sweating in Annie’s car, time felt like it had crept by unnaturally. Like the earth was on beta blockers.
Groaning, I rested my head against the front door. Honestly, Lord, why did You want to bring Annie back in my life? Seeing Sam again was bad enough. Was it just to let me see how screwed up people can get when they’re in love? Not a good lesson for me right now. And if You wanted me to help her, counsel her, or witness to her, I totally blew it. I’m sorry. She caught me by surprise.
For a moment, as I stood immovable, a question suddenly hit me—had Annie been the one—the one right from the beginning, who’d been the source of my terror? Perhaps she couldn’t stand for me to have one more good thing in my life. She wanted me out of my home. Out on the street. It seemed like a real and scary possibility. But what could I do about it? Certainly nothing right this minute.
Look at it this way, Bailey; this night can’t possibly get any worse. How true. And to celebrate that thought, I could take a warm shower, snuggle into bed, and read for a little while. Ahh. Good plan.
When I finally put my key in the lock, I noticed the inside of the house looked extra dark. I’d left the kitchen lights on, yet the house looked as black as the night I’d arrived. Like a dungeon. The porch light remained on, as well as the lights the landscapers had installed, but something felt wrong. Great. What now?
The perspiration on my skin turned icy as I unlocked the door and let it swing open. I’ve got to get that creak fixed. I flipped the switch. Funny. No lights.
What could have happened? I heard the usual buzzing sound to let me know the alarm was on, so I only had a few seconds to decide what to do. Should I risk running through the dark to turn off the alarm? I hated to make the police come roaring up for nothing and scare the whole neighborhood. Think, Bailey. My trusty flashlight was still by the door, so I grabbed it and sprayed the entry with light. Then I raced in to turn off the alarm.
21 – Bloodcurdling Thoughts
My hand shook as I punched in the code. Was someone waiting for me in the dark? It certainly couldn’t be Annie. She was long gone. Wasn’t she? I made a mistake entering my code number and pushed the Clear button. Come on, get it right. I said the numbers out loud as I tapped them in again. Okay.
Alarm’s off. I let out a breath of air.
I crept through the front rooms with my flashlight, taking in every detail as I walked along. No one hid in the darkness. At least not in the front rooms. But even thug types couldn’t get in with the heavy locks and alarms. Or could they? Maybe someone had just messed with my breaker box while I was gone.
I shook off the dread by singing an Irish tune my mother had loved. “Like the blooming heather on the hills. Your sweet love. . .la-la. . .I can’t remember the words. . .something fills.” I kept humming as I moved to the mantle area where the butterfly had been. It was as if my song was falling into a deep fissure never to be retrieved. Was there no longer an echo? Was someone standing near me to absorb the sound? A tremor exploded through me, and I whirled around in a circle with the flashlight. Okay, Bailey, enough bloodcurdling thoughts.
I shined the light around the fireplace. Suddenly I saw something on the wallpaper I hadn’t seen before. An odd w shape. The same strange letter that had been etched on my kitchen window. I rubbed my eyes and blinked. Did that shape on the wallpaper just move? I walked closer to the black line on the wallpaper. The contours did indeed shift. Not in one jolt, but the whole of it undulated as if alive. I crept nearer, even though I really wanted to run to Max’s house for safety.
This time I got close enough to decipher what was happening. Ants. Thousands of fire ants had established themselves on my wallpaper. Instead of writhing and foaming in masses like I’d seen outside on their mounds, they marched in perfects trails, forming a weird-looking w. But why? Were they eating the wallpaper? The glue?
I backed up for a wider view. How could mere ants make such an organized design? Impossible. I must really be losing it big-time.
All at once the entry lights flickered back on. Thinking someone was right behind me, I let a little shriek escape my mouth. No one stood in the entry. Relieved, I flipped on more lights.
I decided to take things in hand, literally. I got my stepladder out of the hall closet, and even though I was still adorned in my black spaghetti-strapped dress, I began scooping up the ants with wads of damp toilet paper. One of the pests bit me, and I flicked him across the room.
As I scraped along, I noticed a faint line left even after the ants were gone. Someone had smeared something on the wallpaper. I picked off a piece of the material and sniffed it. I really didn’t know, but it appeared to be honey. But why would someone smear something on my wallpaper for the ants to eat? And how did the ants find it? At least the stuff, whatever it was, didn’t seem fresh. No one had been in the house recently; otherwise it would still be gooey.
Annie came to mind again, and I wondered how far she might go to hurt me. Hard to know for sure. On one hand, she may have only wanted to check me out, throw around a little intimidation, and then make certain I wasn’t going to interfere with her plans to win Sam back. On the other hand, she could already be a dangerous problem. But whoever it was, I didn’t want to receive anymore ant bouquets!
In a fit of indignation, I dumped the bundles of ants into a bucket. I plugged up the tiny crawl hole on the baseboard with a squirt from my caulking gun and then flushed the wads of paper and insects down the commode. I’d come to k
now fire ants intimately since living in the Bayou City. I’d been bitten ferociously too many times to count, and I was in no mood to show compassion toward them. In fact, I wished miserable things on their wretched little lives.
Back to reality. So, was the design on the wallpaper some sort of message like the one on the kitchen window? Or maybe it was just to make me crazy. Like a frog allowing itself to get cooked to death one degree at a time, I wondered if the ploy was slowly working on me and I just didn’t know it yet.
I suddenly realized that someone must have flipped the lights back on in my breaker box. Why hadn’t I thought of that before? I ran to kitchen door and turned on the porch lights. I craned my neck to see out in the darkness. The landscaping lights illuminated part of the backyard, but there were so many pockets of blackness, anyone could be hiding. Should I open the door and check it out, or should I call Max? Why did I need to bother him when I could do the same thing? Safety in numbers, and he’s stronger.
Ignoring my own warnings, I stepped out into the backyard. With my flashlight in hand, I sneaked over to the breaker box. I saw what I needed to see. The door to the box was indeed open, yet I remembered the electrician closing it the day before.
I scanned the yard in a frantic search but saw no one running, trying to escape. No movement at all, except for the rhythmic swaying of the Spanish moss hanging like silver hair on the live oaks. I could hear the comments of the tree frogs and crickets. The sounds seemed tranquil in contrast to my strange and anxious night queries.
After giving up on the intruder, I decided, at least, to check out one more lead. I was curious what could have coaxed the ants into my house over the fireplace. With a purposeful gait, I headed to the west side of the house. Once I saw the extension where the flue would be, I flashed the light around the base of the house. I noticed a blob of something. I leaned in to see the alien sight more clearly. Goo of some kind had been smeared over a weep hole.
