by Unknown
Chapter 53
Keeley stumbled a little stepping out of Pam’s back door and laughed a little, putting one hand out to touch the wall and gain some stability. Too much to drink. Again.
The world tilted as she headed across the back porch to the bathroom. She had to urinate badly, had been sitting on that Wild card forever it seemed before she drew two and was exposed as soon as she stood up to dance. Amy had seen and shouted “Gotcha!” in victory, holding only one card and ready to win.
Keeley opened the door to the bathroom. At least it wasn’t completely dark yet and she could see her way to the toilet. The last thing she needed in her state was to be carrying a lit candle or burning hurricane lamp. After this, she was going to suggest they all call it a night. She needed to sober up and get some sleep. Back at her and Ben’s house there was generator-powered electricity and every comfort she could ask for, plus tons of bottled drinking water in their pantry she could use to flush out her system.
“Speaking of flush,” she said, slurring. She sat on the toilet seat and released her bladder. “Ah! Relief!”
For a minute, it just felt wonderful. Then she smelled the strong scent of her own urine and the memory hit her so hard, she jerked.
Hannah at, maybe, two? So young.
Little brown-haired girl with big blue eyes, her hair sticking out, messy, dirty and matted. Standing wearing only a diaper by the front door to their house and screaming up at her as Keeley walked in, her face red, her diaper so full it was drooping down past her knees. The powerful smell of Hannah’s urine as Keeley picked her up, her baby’s little body too hot in her arms. Did she have a fever? Keeley had only left her for a little while – hadn’t she? Just a drive up into the hills of New York. She had left early in the morning, she knew that. The sun hadn’t come up yet.
Keeley looked over Hannah’s head, the child’s screams rocketing around the small foyer. The wall clock said six-fifteen. Was it really that late? It had been just a little drive, just a breather so she wouldn’t hit Hannah. She’d promised herself she would never be like her mother, never hit her baby. And she hadn’t.
But this morning was too much. Hannah wouldn’t sleep, just kept crying and crying and crying, even after she had been fed and changed. Keeley had held her and rocked her and sang to her, but nothing worked. Then, holding her, exhausted and feeling desperate, she had wanted to just haul off and hit Hannah, feel the satisfying impact of her hand and Hannah’s head.
That was when she put Hannah down in her low wide wooden antique cradle with its heart-shaped cutouts, a gift from Zo, and walked down the stairs and out of the house. She had climbed in her car wearing only her cotton nightie and driven, letting her mind go blank, her ragged breaths of fear slowly abating.
“Oh, my God,” Keeley said, sitting on the toilet in the darkness. “Oh, my God.”
What Hannah had said. That pack of horrible lies. It was true. Keeley put her hands up to her face, pushing the skin of her cheeks back with her palms, her eyes staring. How had she forgotten this? What else had she forgotten?
“Oh, my sweet baby. I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry.”
She started to cry and stopped herself. She swallowed the sobs down. No, crying wouldn’t fix anything. Never had. What she had to do was talk to Hannah. She had to make things right.
She finished and pumped to flush even though that was against the island’s rules regarding water usage, and went to wash her hands. Thinking of what she would say, she glanced out the window as she moved the slippery soap between her wet fingers. Dusk had fallen, the last of the light fading away in shades of blue. In the deepening darkness, the brightness of the full moon was startling, a glowing ball hanging over the horizon.
“Oh, no. Damn it.”
She rinsed and dried her hands, shaking her head.
It would have to be tomorrow. Actually, it would be better then, anyway. They would all work this out together, her best friends and her daughter, as soon as this night was finally over.
Chapter 54
Holding the heavy plastic gas can with both hands was easier, but Rose found it hard to walk holding it that way, her knees knocking against it. She tried switching arms, but then she had to stop to rest frequently. For once, she wished she lived down-island and the walk was a shorter one. Of course, she could have taken the boat, but she didn’t want to risk any of those witches hearing the engine.
She had already passed Pam’s house, so she was getting close. When she passed, she had stopped and stood in the shadows of Pam’s front yard, twilight falling and making the interior of the house easier to see. The women were quieter than usual. Pam, who was truly fat now, and that little loudmouthed midget, Amy, were moving around in the sun room. It looked like they were cleaning up, pushing in chairs and putting a hurricane lamp in the center of the table. She couldn’t see Hannah, Zooey, or Keeley, which made her nervous. They could emerge from the house at any moment, see her, stop her. Rose scuttled over to her gas can where she’d left it on the boardwalk, grabbed it, and walked as fast as she could to get past the house and out of danger.
Her arms were really beginning to hurt. She stopped again to rest, putting down the gas can and rubbing her biceps through her fleece jacket by stretching out one arm and rubbing it with the other hand. It felt like her elbows were going to snap off. She looked down the boardwalk, but the little house wasn’t in sight yet.
Continuing to rub her arms, she looked off at the water and the causeway beyond. The streetlamps left tiny trails of light on the water, broken only by the relentless small waves of the bay. She sighed. Her home, her real home was here. She let her head fall down, chin touching her chest, relaxing for a moment.
Suddenly her head snapped up. “What?” she said to the air. She looked around. What had happened? She was just on the porch a minute ago. How did she get here?
On the boardwalk in front of her she spied their five-gallon gas can, the one they kept in the supply shed out back for emergencies. What was that doing here? She rubbed her arms. Pain was shooting through them, especially her elbows and biceps. She looked again at the gas can. Had she carried that here? Where was she exactly? She looked around. Pretty far down island, from what she could tell. Oh, yes, there was that little blue house with all the colorful glass bottles in the windows. She was almost at the southern tip of the island.
She stared at the gas can again. What was she doing? In a frenzy, she patted herself down. In the right front pocket of her khakis she found a pack of matches. Oh, my God. She had to get rid of them, fast, before-
Her head twisted violently, her face contorting. The hand holding the matches clenched tight and slammed against her chest. “Oh, no, you don’t!”
Panting, a satisfied smile appearing on her lips as her face relaxed, she slid the matches back in her pocket. Then she reached for the gas can again.
Just a little farther. Then, at last, it would be gone. She wouldn’t have to hate it anymore, never feel rejected again witnessing a Barefooter party in full throttle from a distance while passing in her boat, the laughter jeering at her, the music taunting her. The house stood empty, waiting for her to realize her dreams, the ones from long ago when Michael died. Dreams of fire and redemption.
Chapter 55
The sound of Keeley’s soft regular breathing from the other room aggravated Zooey. The fact that her friend could so easily fall asleep even now was grating on her anger-frayed nerves. What made it worse was that Keeley was sleeping so peacefully while their daughter was alone in the Barefooter house, probably freezing and hungry and miserable. At least Zo had confronted Keeley in the kitchen after their card game, insisting that she stay the night on Pam’s daybed so that they could go over to the Barefooter house at dawn and have their long-overdue talk with Hannah. She wasn’t about to let Keeley fall asleep in the comfort of her own bed, making dragging her from it early in the morning tomorrow nearly impossible. She was done sitting by, letting Keeley call the shots. She had
long ago paid for her sins.
Zo knew that the fact that Keeley fell asleep so easily had a lot to do with all the wine her friend had continued to drink over Uno, even after the others had stopped and switched to coffee. The four of them loved a cocktail, but not in the way Keeley had had loved her wine this afternoon. No, that constant, almost grateful, sipping from her wine glass wasn’t about having fun. It was about numbing. The question was: why was Keeley numbing herself? Keeley had been forcibly sunny all afternoon, but there had been a distracted distance, and off-note, in it all. What had been said on that boardwalk? It gnawed at Zo.
She turned over again on the couch, wrapping the soft chenille blanket more closely around her shoulders and pushing her face into the silk-covered pillow. Pam certainly knew comfort. Too bad it didn’t help in moments like these. Zo would probably never fall asleep. She was too wired up from anxiety and anger, a stimulating combination even without the two cups of coffee she’d had over the course of the afternoon. She’d played cards without enthusiasm, desperately wanting to run after Hannah and being stopped by the calm reason of Pam and Amy. Thank God for them, for if it had been stoically cheerful Keeley in her way, she would have pushed her aside and run down that boardwalk - hang the consequences.
Pam and Amy were right, of course. It had to be the two of them, not just one. Tomorrow would dawn soon enough. Just wait, be patient. Zo sighed. It was tough.
She turned over again and tried to relax. Slowly, her mind let go and images bloomed behind her eyelids. Her breathing became deeper. There were bright flowers. A garden. Red and yellow and orange flowers everywhere. They were moving. Dancing. Like flames. They were flames, not flowers. Licking on wood. Old wooden stairs.
Climbing, tiny licking yellow flame-flowers.
Zo sucked in a huge breath and sat up, the blanket dropping away. Something was wrong. She swung her legs off of the couch and looked around. The velvety darkness of the island filled the room, making her blind. No lights, not even nightlights or streetlights except for those all the way across the water on the causeway that gave a light orange edging to the windows. The much-talked-about full moon must have gone behind a cloud.
No, something was wrong. She could feel it. Hannah.
She reached down beside the couch and felt around for the flashlight that Pam had reluctantly given her when she insisted, battling the old-school sensibilities of her friend with her own determination to be safely mobile in the night. Her hand grazed the hard molded plastic and, grasping it, picked it up and switched it on. Putting it down on the floor so the light spilled in an elongated circle across the polished wood, she put on her now-dry boat shoes and tied their laces. She had to go to their little house. If her feeling was wrong and Hannah and the house were fine, she’d turn around, come back to Pam’s and try to sleep.
There was a muttering from the daybed around the corner. Then Keeley said, “Zo? Is that you? What are you doing?”
Tell her? She had to. She walked over to where her friend lay on the daybed. “I have a bad feeling. About Hannah. I just want to check on her.”
Keeley propped herself up on one elbow. She was still wearing her clothes from the day, refusing the pajamas Pam had offered her, saying she wanted to be ready to go first thing. Zo had put on sweatpants and a sweatshirt, an outfit Neil would’ve hated. He preferred frilly feminine nightgowns and silky slips. She relished the thought of never having to worry about what he thought again.
“Really? Oh, I’m sure she’s fine,” Keeley said, squinting up at her.
Zo looked at her. It was amazing. The years had barely touched her beautiful friend, especially in this light. She looked almost identical to how she’d looked at eighteen, as delicately blond and porcelain-perfect. All that had changed was that were a few laugh-lines around her eyes.
“I’m just going to check. If the house is fine, I’ll come back. Don’t worry, I won’t wake her. I just can’t sleep feeling like this.”
Keeley blinked. “Feeling?”
“Like something’s wrong. Something bad. I’ve got to go.”
“Okay, okay. Hold your horses. I just need to put on my shoes.”
There was a fluttering panic in her chest. Time was wasting away, going too fast. Hannah!
“I can’t wait. I’m sorry,” Zo said and turned, jogged to the door, threw it open, and ran into the orange-edged darkness.
Chapter 56
Keeley tripped and fell on the boardwalk almost as soon as she left Pam’s, scraping both hands and banging her knee, which sent a bolt of pain both up and down her leg. After that, she limped a little as she made her way down the boardwalk, swearing softly to herself while rubbing her sore hands together. She stared as hard as she could, trying to see the boardwalk. She could imagine herself just walking right off of it and falling into the cold water. As if mocking her, the waves seemed to lap more loudly against the docks and bulkheads. Where was that damn moon? Hidden behind clouds – now, when she needed it.
As she walked, she thought about Zooey and Hannah. If Zo went into their house in her current state and said something to Hannah, it would probably be the wrong thing. Actually, it would definitely be the wrong thing. They had to be together when they told Hannah. They had agreed on this. All they had to do was wait until morning. Was that so hard? What a bad day it had been. Even she had to admit that, no matter her efforts to jolly her way through it, the whole thing had been a miserable failure.
As she walked, she noticed that the orange of the streetlights across the water seemed stronger now, the light gilding all of the trees and shrubs. She always remembered the glow from the causeway being dim, barely touching the darkness. Had the lamps been replaced with brighter bulbs? Then she turned a corner on the boardwalk and saw the actual source of the light. Yellow flames leapt and clung to the outside walls of their little house, not from inside like most house fires, but around the edges of it and mostly toward the front where the boardwalk came to an end at the stairs. Only a few flames had crept back toward the rear of the house. A figure stood in front of it, arms out, hands spread.
Keeley staggered to a halt, staring at their house is surprise. Their house was on fire? How? Hannah was in there!
Keeley burst into motion and ran toward the house, the boardwalk visible now in the wavering light. As she drew closer, she saw the backlit figure was Zo, standing and staring at the stairs that went up to their house. The stairs were fully engulfed, flames dancing on every step. As if on cue, Hannah opened the front door at the top of the steps, looking around frantically and then down at Zo.
“Wait, honey!” Zo yelled up to her. “I’m going to get some water!” She looked around in every direction, and then she saw Keeley.
“Keeley! Get a bucket! Anywhere – check under the Smith’s house!” She pointed at the next-door neighbors’ house that was set back on the last part of dry land on the island.
Keeley turned back toward the Smith’s house. Good idea. She started toward the house, and that was when she heard the scream. Her head snapped around.
A woman with short dark hair was running at her from the Smith’s dock, which was right next to their own. It had been empty, and now there was a woman on it, charging at her. Where had she come from?
“Aieeeeee!” The woman was bearing down, her shriek wild, her expression of rage terrifying.
She didn’t recognize the woman’s face, didn’t have time to even understand what was going on, before the woman fell on her, knocking her down on the wooden boards. Keeley fell hard, the woman’s weight – though not heavy – hitting her full force. The back of Keeley’s head slammed against the boardwalk, making her black out briefly, the world fading and then coming back in shades of pulsing red. Then she felt the woman’s hands wrap around her neck.
Chapter 57
Zooey looked up at Hannah, who was standing in the open doorway of the house, her bulging eyes darting around in every direction, her face deathly pale in spite of the rosy light. She had c
learly been asleep when Zo had arrived. There had been no movement in the house and the only sound on this windless night was the gentle lapping of the waves and the hissing and popping of the fire.
As Zo was running toward the house and taking in the nightmarish scene, she’d realized immediately that the fire had been set. House fires didn’t start on the steps and exterior of a house. They glowed from within, shining from the windows before consuming the walls.
Who would do this? First, Hannah’s car. Now, their little house. Their house was burning! It was impossible to wrap her mind around the idea. She looked around, hoping to see the culprit, but the boardwalk and docks were clear, only an old rowboat swayed and rocked where it was tied up at the neighbor’s dock, the Smith’s. It was covered with a snap-on cover to prevent it from filling with water and sinking. The Smith’s were nice people, but they weren’t that smart. No matter how many people told them it was better to dry-dock your boats every winter, or at least pull them up onto the grasses and tie them up there, they lost at least one boat every year this way.
Zo skidded to a stop at the base of the stairs to their house. The stairs were fully on-fire, flames wrapping around each step, reminding her of logs burning in a fireplace.
“Hannah! Hannah!”
She screamed up to her for almost two minutes before Hannah appeared, opening the front door, her hair sticking up, disoriented from sleep.
“It’s going to be okay,” Zo said, forcing herself to calm down. Panic wouldn’t help anyone. Water, that’s what they needed. Just put out the stairs, and get Hannah out of the house.
“Wait, honey!” Zo yelled up to her. “I’m going to get some water.” She turned around, about to head over to the Smith’s, knowing they never locked the storage area beneath their house. There had to be a bucket there. Then she saw Keeley, running down the boardwalk toward them. Oh, thank God. Help.
