No Steve.
She opened the door to the basement and suppressed another shiver. Despite the lights being off she called out, “Steve? Are you down there?”
He wasn’t in the kitchen. She stepped out onto the porch. The truck was nosed into the carport where she’d left it. Across the yard she spotted Mutt and Jeff in the corral, their heads hung in sleep. She walked the porch, circling the house, still no Steve.
She felt watched. As a severe case of the willies overcame her, she fought the urge to run into the house and slam the door behind her.
“Steven Corey, this isn’t very damn funny!”
She realized the Florida sounds she expected—crickets, frogs, whip-poor-wills—were all missing. The woods were deathly silent around her.
Moving slowly and with deliberation to rein in her growing panic, she went to the kitchen, found a flashlight, and slipped on her sneakers. She clicked on the front porch light and walked across the grass toward the barn, stopping at the edge of the light’s reach. The geldings were now awake and watching her.
She turned the flashlight on and crossed the remaining ocean of blackness to the barn. She turned on the barn lights. Except for the horses, she found no one.
Mutt was less apt to spook. She bridled him and mounted bareback. Riding the fence line around the entire property, stopping at a gate on the southern end she hadn’t noticed before because it was hidden from the house by a stand of trees. Scanning the dirt with the light, she saw the gate had been opened recently. A pair of bare footprints left the property, headed up a trail.
“Dammit! What the hell does he think he’s doing?”
Disgusted, she turned the gelding toward the barn. The thought of locking the doors and making Steve spend the night outside was tempting, but she didn’t want to wake up to let him in. A few minutes later she was back in bed and drifted to sleep, mostly irritated but a little concerned. Why had Steve wandered into the woods at night?
Without shoes. Or a flashlight.
He’s not a kid. I refuse to treat him like one anymore. If he wants to get lost and spend the night in the woods, that’s his problem.
She wasn’t aware she wrapped her arms around his pillow as she fell asleep.
Chapter Ten
The downstairs phone jolted Sami awake. Steve lightly snored on his side of the bed.
Sami raced downstairs, grabbing the phone on the fifth ring.
“Hello?”
Matt. “Sam? You guys still alive? I’ve been trying your cell, but you didn’t answer.”
She cringed. She’d forgotten to charge it. “I’m sorry. I meant to call you.” Shock replaced her wave of guilt as she glanced at her watch and realized it was nearly eight thirty. She never slept that late.
“How is the house?”
She filled him in on the details, including her irritation at Steve for saddling her with the dirty work. Then she remembered the night before and kept that to herself, wanting an explanation from Steve before venting to Matt. “How’s Pog?”
“You mean this furry rubber ball you call a dog? Jesus, Sam, doesn’t this thing ever sleep?”
“He’s pretty hyper.”
“That’s an understatement. What’s in his kibble, coffee beans?”
“I warned you he’s a handful.”
“Aw, he’s not that bad. We’re getting along pretty well.”
“You could ask the vet for a tranquilizer for the trip. For him, not for you.”
“That’s the other reason I’m calling, I’m coming down two weeks early, if that’s okay? I could use a vacation. I thought since I deserve hazard pay for babysitting this holy terror, I could sponge off you two.”
Her heart skipped a beat. He’d be there in only three weeks! “Sure. Of course it’s okay. You’re always welcome. Plenty of room.”
“Keep in touch, let me know what’s going on, okay?”
“Okay.” She hung up and stared at the phone. Three weeks.
Reality shoved her moment of thrilled anticipation back in its closet. She ran back upstairs. The furniture would arrive anytime, and she was nowhere close to ready. Stripping her clothes off as she ran, she yanked the pillow out from under Steve’s head and slammed it down on his face.
“Get up, it’s nearly nine!” She started the shower and checked on Steve. He moaned, protesting the disturbance of his slumber.
She offered no sympathy. “It’s not my fault you decided to take a midnight stroll. Get your ass up out of that bed.”
It took the shower a moment to warm up. She jumped in and, despite her rush, her mind wandered.
Having Matt in the house would be a blessing—and a curse. It’d been over eight years. While she tried not to think about the relationship they’d had, pleasant memories crept to mind, mostly due to her deteriorating relationship with Steve.
She couldn’t lie to herself and say she didn’t love Matt and want to be with him. She’d always love him. Her problems with Steve didn’t help any.
* * * *
Sami’s pillow attack startled Steve, but he felt groggy, unable to get moving. Sami’s tone of voice more than her actual words finally broke through the veil of sleep holding him hostage.
“What? What are you talking about?” She’d already jumped in the shower and couldn’t hear. She was pissed about something. He was well acquainted with that tone of voice over the past few years.
And he knew his words or actions usually caused it.
He rolled over and stared at the ceiling, scrubbing his face with his hands. Why the hell did he feel so tired this morning? It hadn’t been that late when he went to bed.
Had it?
He threw the covers back and sat up. Looking down, he realized with some surprise that his feet were filthy.
“What the hell?”
He pulled the covers down to the foot of the bed. Dark sugar sand coated his side of the sheets. Whatever he’d done last night, he had no recollection of it.
A cold, hard rock settled in his stomach, chilling him. He shivered as gooseflesh pimpled his arms.
He brushed the sand off the sheets as best he could and quickly made the bed. There was an identical set of sheets in the linen closet. He’d change them later when Sami was busy doing other things. Then he stopped, rational thought finally taking over.
She already knew more than he did. Why else would she be so upset?
Still, the sheets had to be changed. No reason to piss her off even more.
He heard the water shut off, and he quickly stripped and slipped past Sami into the shower while she towel dried her hair. He snapped the shower curtain closed and turned the water on, nearly scalding himself until he fumbled for the handle and adjusted the temperature. He sloshed his feet around to rinse off the worst of the dirt.
“I’m sorry I overslept, honey.”
“Where the hell did you go last night?” From the tone of her voice he knew he had a lot of sucking up to do.
He didn’t have an answer. Unbidden, his mother’s voice came to him, a memory from his childhood.
“Gonna have to bell you, Stevie, wanderin’ off like you do in the night. Can’t get a decent night’s sleep sometimes, boy.” He’d been six, and after his mom told him that, he’d had the mental image of looking like a small Elsie the Cow, a huge brass bell dangling from a collar around his neck.
Sleepwalking. He drove his poor parents crazy until around age ten when he finally grew out of it. Then, as now, he never remembered his nightly excursions.
“I’m sorry, Sami. I don’t remember anything. I must have been sleepwalking.”
“Sleepwalking?” She yanked the shower curtain open, unmindful of the water splashing onto the floor. “You go out in the middle of the night and give me a severe case of the creeps and you were sleepwalking? Since when do you sleepwalk?” She turned away, leaving the shower curtain open.
He drew it closed again. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand it. I haven’t done it in years, since I was a
kid. My parents considered tying me to my bed for a while.”
“Well, you better quit doing it, or you’ll find yourself locked out of the house. That ought to wake you up. I’ve put up with enough shit from you over the years, I certainly don’t need you adding ‘scaring the crap out of Sami’ to the list.”
She walked into the bedroom and left him alone with his thoughts. He vaguely remembered a dream about the woods, something about a woman, perhaps. It was too vague and disjointed for him to remember anything of substance.
He shook his head and finished showering.
* * * *
Sami was having coffee and a bagel when Steve made his way downstairs a few minutes later. He walked up behind her and kissed her on the back of the neck. She stiffened, but didn’t pull away.
That was a good sign.
“Honey, I’m sorry. Tell you what, I’ll make it up to you.”
“How?”
“I’m yours all day. Whatever you want, it’s done.”
She turned to him, doubt in her eyes. “You mean it?”
He crossed his heart. “I promise.”
“I just don’t understand you, Steve.”
He didn’t have time to answer, because a large box truck rumbled up the dirt driveway, bouncing and swaying on its overtaxed springs. Sami finished her bagel and went out the kitchen door to meet them. Steve longingly eyed the coffeepot, then unlocked the living room door and propped it open.
Two hours later, the furniture had been unloaded and dispersed to the proper rooms, some of it to be rearranged later when Sami could put her full energy into it. The truck rumbled down the driveway, riding much higher than it had on arrival.
“That’s pretty nice,” Steve said, looking over the new furnishings.
“Thank you.” She still moved things around, trying to find an arrangement she liked.
“What’d you spend?”
She glared at him. “Do you really want to have this conversation with me right now, after what you’ve put me through the past few weeks?”
He held up his hands in surrender. “Sorry—you’re right.” He tried to make amends. “It looks nice. You did a good job picking it out.”
His words softened her. “Thank you.”
Normally he would have teased her by complaining about the expense, but he knew better than to push her buttons today.
Especially after last night.
Besides, if they had a house full of furniture she liked, it would be easier to talk her into buying the house, which he’d already decided to do.
She wasn’t a shopaholic, but a houseful of new furniture improved her mood, and she even offered to make him lunch. He ate in the kitchen, trying to rest his back, while she stood in the living room, jockeying around the lighter pieces of furniture between bites. When he finished and felt it safe to emerge, he went to the living room and asked her about the next chore.
“We’re buying a lawn mower. I need you to hook up the trailer while I offload the rest of the feed. We also need a pressure washer.”
“I’m sorry I asked.” Inside he smiled. She was planning, which meant she might want to stay.
* * * *
They returned home with a new lawn tractor and a large pressure washer in the trailer, along with other supplies. The round hay bale had been delivered in their absence, dropped inside the pasture fence next to the corral, where the horses stretched their necks over the top of the fence and clipped off mouthfuls. She let them into the pasture to graze and they headed straight for the hay.
Steve attacked the lawn while Sami tackled the barn. The electric was a later addition, the metal conduit and junction boxes not yet dulled by oxidation from the humid Florida air and complete with waterproof electrical sockets. She located an old wheelbarrow in what she was using as the tack room. She filled it several times with old, musty straw from the stalls and started a muck pile near the far fence. She then hooked up the pressure washer and cleaned everything with a mild bleach solution. Once up to her standards she took a break and checked on Steve’s progress.
He’d almost finished. The property looked a lot better with the tall weeds knocked down, and Sami felt better than she had since arriving. Steve rode over after making his last pass and shut the tractor off.
“Well, Chief, do I pass inspection?”
She felt a wave of guilt over his good nature. He was trying. If his sudden bout of sleepwalking was unexpected, it certainly wasn’t a reason to hold a grudge. She leaned over and kissed his sweaty forehead.
“You certainly do. You’ve got the rest of the day off.”
“But I promised I’d help.”
“You did, and I appreciate it. I’m going to take a ride and putter around for a while and then call it a day. Go ahead and clean up and do whatever you want.” She smiled. “Your publisher is expecting a book out of you. Matt’s coming down early for some R & R. He’ll give you holy hell if you miss your deadline.”
He hugged her. “Thanks, hon. Why don’t we call in a pizza? Isn’t there a place across the street from Winn-Dixie?”
She nodded. Cooking was the last thing she wanted to do. “That’s a good idea.”
* * * *
She groomed and saddled Jeff and headed back to the gate she found the night before. She dismounted, opened it, and rode through. Steve had returned the same way he’d left, his footprints still clearly visible in the dirt, although they were now occasionally crossed by dirt bike tracks. The trail ran south along the property line, eventually curving off to the east and up a small hill into a thick stand of pine trees.
Jeff shied away from the trail and Sami dismounted, encouraging the gelding to follow.
“C’mon boy, don’t wuss out on me now.” She found a small clearing where the tracks disappeared in the thick bed of pine needles carpeting the ground. A small stone marker stood in the center of the clearing. As she approached, she realized with a chill it was a gravestone.
George Simpson, 1863-1908. No epitaph, just cold letters chiseled into a small granite marker. The name sounded familiar. She searched her memory and drew a blank. Several old, rotting wooden markers stood nearby, the names lost to the ages. She also noticed several piles of stones scattered around the clearing. Some sort of cairns, she suspected, maybe left by early settlers or native tribes. Despite a raging case of the crawling creeps, the clearing intrigued her. She decided to go to the library to do more research. Maybe it was fodder for her next book.
She circled the outer edge of the clearing, the gelding still in tow, and found no other footprints except where Steve had followed his own back trail.
He came to visit a graveyard he knew nothing about?
She clipped that line of thought and led Jeff from the clearing.
Chapter Eleven
“What the hell is that?”
Sami, her eyes wide and mouth full of pizza, shook her head in amazement.
Steve cocked his head. “How the hell do they even get into that position?”
Sami swallowed her pizza before she choked on it and looked at the remote control. “Forget how they got into it, how do they get out?” They watched for a moment until Sami laughed. “I’m sorry, but this stuff’s too stupid. I didn’t think to ask what the Absolute Premium channel package included.” She changed the channel and instead of a porno movie, they watched two lions copulating on an African savannah.
“Oh, great choice, Sami, bestiality.” Steve guffawed and held his hands up in defense as she slapped his shoulder.
“All right, Boy Genius, you figure out the damn satellite dish!” She flung the remote at him and reached for another slice.
Steve examined the remote and channel surfed. From a Japanese baseball game to a Spanish telenovella, there seemed little worth watching. He figured out how to access the channel guide, and they started seeing recognizable programs.
He made another selection, bringing up an ABC channel where a news journal show was already in progress.
&nbs
p; “Stop right there—that’s fine,” Sami ordered.
He shrugged and put the remote on the coffee table before reaching for his slice.
He wouldn’t tell Sami to save his life, but he was dying to get back to the computer. He felt the manuscript pulling him, his imagination flourishing in ways he hadn’t felt in years.
But her mood had improved, and he felt guilty about spooking her the night before on top of all the other bullshit he’d put her through, so he forced himself to stay. Her grouchy mood was his fault, and he knew it. It wasn’t fair to treat her the way he had and saddle her with the bulk of the work to boot. He also knew he was lucky she hadn’t already left him, considering the way his temper had spiraled out of control over the past months.
And if she ever discovered the secrets he’d been keeping from her for years, all the lies he’d told her, she would leave him immediately. And he wouldn’t blame her in the least.
When she went riding, he’d changed the sheets and washed the dirty ones, getting them dried and folded and back in the linen closet before she returned.
He didn’t understand his sudden need to be secretive about it. She already knew more about his midnight walk than he did, so what difference would it make?
“Did you remember any more about your journey last night?” she asked.
“What?” Her question startled him, being so close to his thoughts. He hoped his face didn’t turn a deep, guilty red.
“Your little nocturnal mission. Where you went.”
He shook his head. “No. Not a thing.”
“I followed your tracks when I went riding. There’s a small clearing southeast of here. Looks like an old cemetery.”
The hair on the back of his neck stood up. “A what?”
“Cemetery. You know, the place you’re going to end up one day really soon if you don’t quit pissing me off and scaring the crap out of me in the middle of the night?” She wore a wry smile. “One stone marker, several old wooden headstones, and several piles of rocks, sort of like cairns.”
Out of the Darkness Page 6
