She hoped the moon would be fairly bright tonight, realizing that she didn’t have much by which to gauge it as she hadn’t paid much attention to the sky the night before. And even in the light of day she hadn’t been able to get a good sense of the moon’s size as something had been blocking it whenever she had tried to look.
As she reached the top of the first tier, the feel of the forest had changed and Summer was very much aware of it. The terrain had remained the same, but an altered backdrop had unfurled to accommodate a new act in the play. Darkness was now dominating, but tempered by a haze of light led by a milky swath of stars and more importantly a moon that was thankfully almost full.
TWENTY-THREE
“I LOVE YOU, TOO, SWEETHEART. I can’t wait to see you.”
At first Summer thought the words were directed at her. But they made no sense. I love you, too? Too? She hadn’t even said anything. I can’t wait to see you? Why would you say that to someone who was a few feet away, just outside?
Maybe she hadn’t heard right. She was exhausted. Thirsty. Maybe just not thinking clearly. Besides, the words were faint, coming from behind the door.
This last hour had in some ways been the toughest of her trek back to the cottage. Even though the terrain had been relatively flat, this hike had had an attritional effect on Summer that seemed to weigh the heaviest that final hour. The proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back.
Her feet were like lead and she had long ago blocked out her bumps and bruises as her desire for water, rest and peace of mind had obscured all else.
When she had seen the light coming from her grandmother’s cabin, it felt like one last shot of adrenaline had been injected. Hart! Hart must be home. He must be safe, she thought.
And then, “I love you, too, Sweetheart. I can’t wait to see you.” It was as if Hart had read her mind and answered her before she could speak. Or maybe she had said it. Was she that punch drunk?
Summer stood not quite at the door. For some reason she lingered back a few feet, her body swaying like she was trying to get her sea legs.
Hart continued: “We just have to play this the right way and we’re home free. It’s going to be great.”
Was she dreaming? Who was he talking to? And what was he talking about?
“I’m going to kiss you all over when I see you.” That was the next thing she heard. Or thought she heard. And then her hand jetted out and seized the knob of the front door.
“Wait! I heard something,” he said.
And before she knew what she was doing, she was knocking.
Then silence. Or shuffling. Maybe whispering. She didn’t know what she was hearing. She was ready to faint, she felt so lightheaded. The words she had just heard hung in the air. And as the door felt like it was about to open, she filed them in the back of her brain. They would not be forgotten but would instead be played like an ace—used when most needed, rather than when it would cause the table to fold before its time. And though it surprised her that she was thinking this way, it felt like the most prudent thing to do. After all, maybe she needed more information or maybe, in her semi-delirious and dehydrated state, she had just imagined the whole thing. Maybe she’d wake up any moment now. Or maybe she was fooling herself.
TWENTY-FOUR
HART FLUNG THE DOOR OPEN the way one might tear off an adhesive bandage. He had forced himself to stand up straight. He would face the cops without a hint of guilt or wrongdoing. After all, he hadn’t done anything wrong, had he?
But what he saw when he opened the door made the blood drain from his face. A million thoughts flooded his head. But one thought wisely bolted to the forefront of his mind: hug her. He did, as he said her name and other requisite things like, “Thank God you’re alive.” He actually pulled it off quite well, aided by the emotional aspect of it all bubbling so close to the surface.
Summer was in a daze, but she hugged him back hard, the tears coming easily.
How are you not dead? Hart wanted to scream but composed himself enough to ask it in a way that didn’t make himself sound like he was either bitterly disappointed or like some kind of sick maniac.
Hart played the doting husband as he led Summer to the couch and brought her as much water as she needed and tended to her scrapes and cuts.
The relief and comfort she felt could hardly be expressed and she broke down a few times, each episode greeted with warm embraces and comforting words from Hart. He had dramatic flair after all, throwing himself into his part, dying to know what happened—why she wasn’t dead, how she’d destroyed his seemingly serendipitous plans—all while treating her with kid gloves.
Hart listened with great interest to Summer as she explained how she was not in the car when she heard the horrible explosion. He sympathized with her when she recounted how she had made it out of the valley and back to the cabin, even managing to diplomatically confirm that she hadn’t been seen by a soul. And he, of course, expressed how relieved he was that she was home safe.
All the while, however, behind those commiserating eyes, the wheels turned. He felt like the winning lottery ticket had been yanked out of his hands. She had been out of the picture and now she was back. So the narrative would have to change and he’d have to stay one step ahead of it all if—
“What are you looking at?” Hart asked, interrupting his own thoughts. But they both knew where her eyes were.
“Oh, the phone,” he said. Hart had some explaining to do. The phone. He glanced back at it to give it the full effect.
“Oh, I was just talking to your cousin Brandy.” And now he was really scrambling, trying to remember what he said; wondering how long Summer had been on the porch before she had knocked; what she might have heard.
“I was worried about you and I just needed someone to talk to,” he continued.
“Oh,” said Summer. Her thinking was still cloudy so she decided not to question Hart about what she thought she might have heard. For a brief moment she asked herself if she was just trying to avoid a confrontation. If that was the case, it made her feel ashamed, but, no, she didn’t think that was it. She just wanted to be on firmer ground before proceeding. But her antenna was definitely up. For the first time in her life she wasn’t sure if she could trust Hart.
It just seemed odd that of all people to call, Hart would choose Brandy. I mean she had never been particularly close to her cousin. And Hart certainly never had been either. Or had he?
“Yeah, she’s on her way up now,” Hart said. “To see if she could help out. Thank God you’re okay though. Now it’ll be like a little family vacation.”
“I’m surprised you even have her number,” Summer said, regretting it the moment it came out. She wanted Hart’s guard to be down; not wanting him to know she suspected anything.
“Oh, well it was in one of the drawers in the kitchen along with other family numbers. That’s why I called her actually.”
“So are you going to call her back and tell her I’m alright?”
“Yeah, yeah, I better. I just got so caught up I forgot about her.”
He definitely played it well and Summer wasn’t sure what to believe. She decided to listen closely, pretend like she wasn’t, and see if she’d pick anything up by the way Hart talked and acted.
He walked over to his phone.
“Hart, did you try calling my cell, by the way?”
He didn’t even hesitate. “Of course. Many times. There was no answer.”
It made sense, seeing as her phone had blown up in the explosion.
From his point of view, of course, his response was a big risk that he could have been called on if Summer did in fact have her phone. On the other hand actually saying “no” to the question she posed would have been bordered on ridiculous.
“Hi Brandy?” Hart said into the phone. “This is Hart. You’re not going to believe this. Summer’s alive!” There was a beat and Summer noticed that Hart was smiling from ear to ear. “Yeah, yeah, she wasn’t in the car.” Ha
rt was nodding and smiling and pacing. “I know, I know, it’s unbelievable. Anyway, we’ll tell you all about it when you get here…I know. I’m so relieved, too. Thank God she’s okay…Okay, you drive safe… We’ll see you soon…Bye.”
Hart hung up the phone. “She was so relieved. Oh my God. I know you guys were never that close but she was really worried.”
Summer, still on the couch, smiled and sipped some water.
“Anyway, she’s on her way up,” said Hart.
Summer yawned, got up, and headed in the direction of the bedroom. “Well, I guess I’ll say ‘hi’ tomorrow morning. I’m exhausted.”
“Good night, Honey,” he said, coming over to her and embracing and kissing her.
She returned his embrace and began shuffling toward the bedroom. Then she stopped and turned. “Hart?”
“Yes, Honey?”
“What’s going on with the police?”
Hart felt his face flush. “What do you mean?” For the first time tonight, he sounded a little jittery.
“I mean you reported me missing, right? I assume they’re out there looking for me.”
“Oh. Oh, yeah. I already talked to them after the explosion.” He tried to choose his words as carefully as he could while trying to sound like he wasn’t thinking too hard.
“They actually drove me home.” He felt dumbfounded, being thrust into the main performance without ever having a chance to hear how his lines sounded out loud. Then he figured the less said, the better.
But despite her weariness, Summer just looked at him, gesturing slightly with her hands, clearly waiting for more.
“Well, it feels strange to say this out loud, but, uh, they’re not really looking for you because they think you’re, you’re dead. I mean that you, you blew up in the explosion.”
Summer pursed her lips and nodded. “Hmm.” It did seem strange hearing that. But it made sense. After all, Hart had thought she was dead. Why not the police?
“Well, let’s see what the news says. It must be on the—”
She stumbled as she moved toward the coffee table, reaching for the remote. Hart sidled over, trying to appear casual but unavoidably looking awkward in the process.
He clutched the remote. “It’s actually broken. I was trying all day.”
“Oh,” she said.
“Listen, Sweetheart,” he said, hugging her. “You’ve had a long day. I’m worried about you. Why don’t you get some sleep, huh? I’ll call the police and tell them you’re okay. And I’ll see if I can get the damn T.V. working.”
He held her loosely now and put his forehead against hers and smiled. Then he kissed her. “Get some rest Sweetheart.”
She nodded and headed into the bedroom.
TWENTY-FIVE
A SECOND WIND HAD SEEMED to kick in for Summer, no doubt helped along by a warm shower taken in the attached bathroom. She felt tired but no longer sleepy. As she got undressed and ready for bed she felt uneasy. She wished there was a T.V. in the bedroom but that really wouldn’t have been Grandma’s style. Something wasn’t adding up. Something—
The knock was quick. It announced an arrival—a statement, not a question—as the door promptly swung open.
“I brought you some warm milk,” Hart said. “Hope it helps you relax so you can get some sleep.” Without hesitating, he walked over to her nightstand and put the milk down.
“Thanks, Hart.”
He kissed her cheek, said ‘goodnight’ and left, closing the door behind him.
Summer sat down on the bed and tried to remember what she was thinking about before Hart had come in. Then she heard a voice. It was Hart’s. She tip-toe-ran to the bedroom door and listened.
“…yes, that’s right, officer, she’s completely okay. Thank God she wasn’t in the car.”
Summer opened the door just a little bit and looked out. Hart was talking on the phone, his back turned toward her.
“Thank you so much for all your help…you too, have a great night.”
Summer closed the door quietly and headed toward the bathroom to brush and floss her teeth, a ritual she performed almost without fail, no matter how late it was or the circumstances. When she was done, she ambled to her bed, wiped out, yet trying to focus.
She noticed her alarm clock and wondered what time she should get up tomorrow. It was out of habit really. Then she looked at her pillow. Forget it. I’ll get up whenever. I’m exhausted and I’m on vacation for God’s sake.
Turning her head back, she saw the glass of milk. Oh yeah, the milk. Nah, I already brushed my teeth. Forget it.
Yawning, she killed the lights and got under the covers. It didn’t take long before her eyelids began to lose the gravity war and within moments she was asleep.
Two seconds later, her eyes snapped open and her head flew up, her body following, putting her in the sitting position. The alarm, she thought.
Looking at the bedroom door, she slid out of bed and, on her knees, turned the volume down on the alarm clock. Then she turned the radio on and slowly raised the volume up so it could barely be heard. She did not have to flip around the dial long before she found what she wanted.
“…the two bodies that were found in the car that exploded this afternoon at Huncke’s Service Station in Cardsdale are disfigured beyond recognition, but are thought to be the remains of Hartence and Summer Smith of San Gabriel. The exact cause of—”
Summer’s ear’s strained. Sounding like something beyond just the radio, she cut the power and leaped back into bed, pretending to sleep like a little kid afraid of being caught by his parents. She even mumbled a bit in case Hart had heard something. It was quiet but she knew he was there, the gap in the opened door filled by his suspicious eye. Unable to help herself, she opened her eyes. She’d let him know that she was not a sound sleeper.
But when her eyes opened, she saw nothing but darkness. Maybe she was the suspicious one. Maybe.
Feeling around, she almost knocked over the glass of milk. She breathed a sigh of relief when she finally clutched it. She then jog-walked to the bathroom, dumped the milk down the drain and let the water run for almost a minute. Then she returned to bed, replacing the glass on her nightstand.
TWENTY-SIX
HART HAD JUST FINISHED cutting the tiny protruding copper wire on the coaxial cable to the T.V. when Brandy pulled up. A twinge of excitement filled his chest. He was giddy about the idea that he’d now have a live sounding board in order to hash out and finalize his plans. The desire to voice his ideas out loud, with someone who was on the same wavelength, was overwhelming. He wanted to keep his plan foolproof and use every new wrinkle—such as the explosion—to his advantage.
Brandy, for her part, felt a little nervous. She had been eager to share in the spoils of Summer’s demise, but not so eager to actually be involved, and almost as paramountly not be perceived to be involved in any way.
It was for this reason that she felt some relief at having driven up to the cabin in the dead of night. Without a living soul on the road, not even any passing headlights, her apprehension was somewhat mollified by the idea that no one knew she was here. All in all, she couldn’t wait until the whole matter was settled.
One consolation, she told herself, was that by being here she’d be better able to direct Hart, helping to make sure he didn’t foul things up.
Brandy entered the cabin and greeted Hart. They hugged, with Hart holding on a little too long, going so far as to nibble on her ear. She pried him away as subtly as she could.
“Where’s Summer,” she whispered.
“It’s okay, she’s sleeping.”
“Good. But take it easy. We don’t want to be stupid here. You’re almost home free.”
Hart shrugged and nodded in agreement. He knew she was right but that didn’t stop his excitement from spilling over into a confidence that made the whole scheme a possibility in the first place. He also had trouble with the idea that Brandy would suspect for a moment that he wasn’t up to the ta
sk.
Then Hart made a face. “What’s that perfume you’re wearing? Is it new?”
“Why?”
“Because it—” He closed his eyes and exhaled hard a few times. Then he sneezed. And not softly.
They both looked toward the bedroom door.
“I better check to see if she’s awake,” Summer heard Hart say through the door.
She closed her eyes as the door to her room was cracked open. Hart only looked for a moment before shutting the door as quietly as he could.
Then he turned to Brandy. “She’s asleep. I wouldn’t worry. She’s exhausted. I even gave her some warm milk before she hit the hay.”
“Maybe we should discuss our plans later.”
“When?” he said, hissing a bit. “We gotta get this settled and after tonight when are we gonna have a chance to be alone without looking suspicious.”
“Okay, okay,” she said, whispering at an especially low volume.
“Let’s go outside if it’ll make you feel better.”
“It’s cold out there.”
Hart threw up his hands and was about to open his mouth.
Brandy rolled her eyes. “Alright, let’s go outside. I’ll put on a jacket. But talk fast.”
Closing the front door behind them softly, Hart started talking first.
“Beautiful night.”
“Come on, Hart.”
“Hey, if you’re cold, lemme put my arms around you.”
“Don’t be stupid. There’s plenty of time for that. Now tell me what’s going on.”
Hart smirked. “Alright. First of all, Summer has no idea what’s going on. She knows my car blew up but has no clue that two people died in the explosion. We’re gonna use that to our advantage. After we take care of Summer, I’m going to go to the cops and tell them how I was lost in the woods for a few days and that’s why I waited until now to come to them.”
Keep Calm and Kill Your Wife Page 9
