The Widow's Cabin

by L. G. Davis

  “Get the hell out,” I shout, forgetting it’s his house. “I need you to leave or–”

  “Or you’ll call the cops? They’re already on their way. I called them.”

  “Mommy, what happened?” Liam’s voice brings our argument to a screeching halt.

  I throw Cole a warning look and take Liam back to bed. “Grandpa was just leaving, baby. Let me go and read you a story.”

  “Make it a good one,” Cole says as we climb the stairs.

  4

  I’m standing at Liam’s bedroom window after he finally falls asleep again when voices float upstairs.

  Even though Cole had pretended to leave earlier, he hadn’t. I could see him waiting in his car. I’ve been watching him from the window, wishing he would leave me alone.

  I’m not surprised that he wants to be around when the cops question me. He’s determined to destroy me.

  I don’t think he even cares if I killed my husband or not. He wants me to pay for disobeying him, for going ahead and marrying his son when he asked me not to. He did tell me then that I would regret my decision.

  I’m terrified of going downstairs. I feel safer in Liam’s room. But if I don’t go down, if I don’t go and answer their questions, they might think I’m guilty.

  Brokenhearted, I watch Liam stir in his sleep. I pray he won’t wake up before the cops leave. I also pray he doesn’t wake up to find both his mom and dad gone.

  Holding my breath, I tiptoe across the room to face the cops before Cole comes to get me.

  I feel physically sick as I close the door again and drag myself to the stairs.

  One of the cops is already making his way up the stairs. I recognize him as Officer Robert Kane. He’s a tall, heavyset man with graying mouse-brown hair. His warm, green eyes and laugh lines don’t fool me. He’s Cole’s friend, which makes him my enemy.

  When a crime is committed in Fort Haven, he’s usually the one interviewed on the local news. He seems to always enjoy his local celebrity.

  The thing that makes my insides twist with anxiety is the fact that I used to see him come to the Black Oyster to visit Cole. I’m sure Cole has already fed his police friend all the lies that would give me a one-way ticket to prison.

  “Good evening, Mrs. Wilton,” Officer Kane says. “I’m very sorry for your loss. Do you think you can answer some questions? I’m afraid it’s routine.”

  I can feel Cole’s eyes on me from down below. He’s trying to intimidate me from a distance, so I’ll mess up my story and set a trap for myself.

  I nod and wipe the tears from my cheeks. Even though I’m trembling inside, I do my best to pull myself together and steel myself for his questions.

  I follow Officer Kane down the stairs, where Cole is standing by the window with his arms folded. As a member of the family, I don’t understand why he is not also being questioned by the police.

  Another officer is studying a multi-colored abstract painting on the wall, one I have never understood. I was never allowed to change any of the furniture, so most of the decorations do not even appeal to my taste. It was the price we had to pay for staying in Cole’s house.

  Cole offers the officers a seat and I lower myself into an armchair not far from where he’s sitting. I want to cry and weep, but I just feel numb inside. The pain will return later, but now I’m glad to feel nothing. It enables me to think straight and say the right things.

  “Mrs. Wilton, your father-in-law, filled us in on what happened, but I would like to hear it from your perspective. You were the one with your husband in the house, is that correct?”

  I nod. “Yes, it is.” I can’t believe this is happening. I cannot believe I’m being questioned about my husband’s death, that I’m in this situation at all.

  Before I answer, I look past the officer’s shoulders at Cole. He’s still standing by the window, staring at me, waiting for the officer to break me with his questions.

  I always used to think hate is a strong word, but nothing else can describe the crawling sensation of disgust I feel when my eyes meet Cole’s. Now that Brett is gone, I don’t have to hide my hate. I don’t have to bury it deep inside as a way to protect him.

  I want Cole to know exactly how much I’m disgusted by him.

  I take a breath and tell the officer the same story I told the paramedics. I paint the scene as it was in the moments that turned my life upside down. That I was helping Brett get into bed when pain overcame his body, stomach cramps that made him cry out with agony, and that I left the room for a few minutes, and when I returned, I found him dead.

  “All lies,” Cole’s voice booms behind me. “Look at her, she’s a liar. She’s always been a liar. She lied about loving my son. She was only interested in his money.”

  I want to lash out at him, but I need to keep control. I need to keep my anger in check before I blow my cover.

  Yes, it’s all lies, but the truth can never come out in the open. I was the only one there. I’m the only one whose story matters. As long as the police do not uncover any other evidence that could contradict my story, I will not go to prison.

  If they knew that I even thought of helping Brett to die, I would be right in the center of a murder case. Everyone in Fort Haven would know about it since Brett and Cole are so well-known around town. I will be on the news and in the papers. I will be called a murderer.

  “Mr. Wilton, if you don’t mind, I would like to speak to Mrs. Wilton alone.”

  “I don’t understand why that is necessary. I might have some of the answers she’s not giving you.”

  “I appreciate that, but she was here when it happened. We only need a few minutes. I hope you don’t mind.”

  Cole’s eyes blaze as he gazes at Officer Kane. At first, I think he is going to refuse to leave the room, but I sigh with relief when he clears his throat and walks out. Instead of heading upstairs, he goes outside, probably to smoke one of his many cigars.

  “How long has your husband been sick for?” Officer Kane asks me.

  “He was diagnosed with cancer three months ago. He was okay for one month, but the last two months were... It was hard.”

  “And you say he refused treatment?”

  “Yes. The doctors recommended chemotherapy, but he completely refused it. I tried to convince him to do it, but he wouldn’t.” I glance out the floor-to-ceiling window at the darkness outside. I haven’t checked the time, but it must be close to 3:00 or 4:00 a.m. I’m not sure, honestly. Everything is either moving too fast or in slow motion right now. “He was in so much pain…tonight,” I murmur, then I glance back at the officer, who is still jotting down my words onto his notepad.

  I wish I could cry for relief and also to convince the officer that I am grieving my dead husband. I don’t want him to believe Cole, that I married Brett for his money. With Cole holding the purse strings, I would probably not even get a penny.

  “What was his outlook?” the other officer asks. Only then do I notice that he’s quite young, probably no older than twenty-five, but the police uniform makes him look older.

  “The doctors gave him less than a year to live unless he underwent treatment.”

  “Do you know why he refused treatment?”

  I shake my head. “But I saw on his computer that he researched stories about people who underwent chemotherapy and most of those people either died or it failed to work. I guess he didn’t want to be disappointed.” I don’t share with him that in his search history, I also found search results for ‘the quickest ways to die’.

  “Was there any medication he was taking to manage the pain?” the younger officer asks.

  “He did have medication, but tonight he refused to take it.”

  “Why do you think that is?” Officer Kane asks, his brow furrowing. “Why didn’t he want the pain meds?”

  “I don’t know. He just refused.”

  “And he also refused to go to the hospital?”

  “Yes.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “There wa
s nothing I could do to help him.”

  The second officer comes to sit down on the couch as well and leans forward. I raise my gaze to meet his brown eyes. “You mentioned that you left the room for a few minutes. Why? Why would you leave your husband when he’s in pain?”

  I bite into my lip for a moment, trying to straighten out my story before I shoot myself in the foot. Then I take a breath. “Because I couldn’t stand it. He was my husband and I could not stand seeing him in so much pain. I needed a moment.”

  “That’s understandable,” Officer Kane says and I almost sigh with relief that he bought my story. But then again, that part of the story was not hard to tell because it was true.

  The younger officer pushes himself to his feet and leaves the room to step outside. Maybe he wants to ask Cole questions as well.

  “Mrs. Wilton, I know this is hard,” I can hear in Officer Kane’s voice that he means it.

  “Thank you.” He gives me a moment to catch my breath before he continues.

  “When you left the room, where did you go?”

  “I went to the office.”

  The next thing he wants is for me to take him there. I don’t understand why it’s important, but I don’t resist. I need to play along.

  The first thing I see when we enter are the papers spread out on the desk. Cole doesn’t know it, but since marrying Brett, I had been helping him out with the Black Oyster financial reports. Even though I didn’t go to college, I’m quite good with numbers. During Brett’s illness, I took on more of the CFO tasks, so his father didn’t think he was slacking.

  Yesterday morning, while taking a short break, I was working on the business plan for the bakery I was planning to open up in a few weeks. Now I can’t help but feel that that dream, along with many others, is about to go up in smoke.

  “So, you were in here?” he asks, looking around him. “Were you sitting or standing?”

  I throw him a confused look. “Is that important?”

  “I’m afraid so. Please answer the question.”

  Don’t annoy him, I tell myself.

  “At first I was pacing the room and then I sat in that chair.” I point to the leather chair. My gaze moves to the floor in front of it and I imagine my tears dripping onto the wood. “I was crying. Maybe that’s why I left the room. I didn’t want him to see me cry. I wanted to be strong for him, but at that moment, I couldn’t be.”

  “How long have you been married to Mr. Wilton again?”

  “Five years.” I still don’t understand why that is relevant, but I answer anyway.

  “How did you meet?”

  “I was employed at the Black Oyster Hotel. That’s where I met him.”

  “Was he the one who hired you?”

  “No, it was his father.” Ice spreads through my stomach when I think of the day that changed my life, the moment I accepted the position at the Black Oyster Hotel. How could I have known that it would end like this?

  A moment passes while he writes down everything. Then he glances up again. “How long did you date before you got married?”

  “Less than a year.”

  “Can you be more specific?”

  I sigh. “Around three months.”

  I can see that the officer is judging me as he studies my face.

  “We were very much in love,” I say, adding to my statement, so he doesn’t come to his own conclusions.

  “Was your father-in-law correct in claiming you married Brett Wilton for his money?”

  My throat closes up and the urge to lash out is so strong, it awakens cramps in my belly, but instead, I straighten my shoulders and look him straight in the eye. “I did not marry my husband for his money.” I do not tell him that I did love to move into a comfortable life and to never have to worry about where next month’s rent money was coming from. “If you think I killed him, why would I do that? Why didn’t I just wait for the illness to take him?”

  “That’s not what I’m thinking, Mrs. Wilton.” He pauses. “I’m sorry if I made you feel that way. I need to have a complete picture. I truly am sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you.” I sniff and wrap my arms around myself for warmth. I hadn’t even noticed until now that I’m still wearing my nightgown.

  “I think we have everything we need for now, but we might return if we come up with any more questions.” He pushes his notebook into his breast pocket. “And I’m sorry, but there will probably be an investigation because we need to rule out foul play.”

  “I understand.” My voice comes out strained and broken as fear digs its claws into my spine.

  After the questioning, Cole no longer comes inside but talks to both officers outside. Then all of them get into their cars and drive away.

  Instead of heading upstairs, I remain in the living room. I don’t dare to go to the bedroom where Brett died.

  I fight my anxiety for an hour until I give in and swallow down some of my pills. I wonder how many more of them I will take in the next couple of days, weeks, or even months. I wonder if they will be able to shield me from the storm that I sense is coming.

  5

  Ineed to get out of the house. The memories of what happened last night are suffocating me. I barely got any sleep, and I’m still lying on the couch, unable to move.

  Finally, I push myself up, almost falling to my knees. For a moment I stand, hoping, wishing, and praying that it was all a dream, someone else’s dream.

  But it’s real. Brett is gone, and I am partly responsible.

  My mind is frozen, unable to decide what to do. Where do I go?

  I glance at the clock above the fireplace.

  It’s 7:00 a.m. It’s only a matter of time before Cole comes over to torture me again or throw me out.

  Guilt is weighing down on me as I climb the stairs. I should have called 911 immediately, even if Brett didn’t want me to.

  I messed up big time.

  I don’t make it to the top before the energy drains out of me, and I sink to the steps with my head in my hands. My chest physically aches.

  The urge to cry some more is overwhelming, but the tears have dried up again.

  Instead, I sit and stare at my surroundings. I so much wanted to call this place home, but it never welcomed me.

  When I walked through the front door for the first time, it was like stepping into someone else’s life. Now it will never be my home. Now that Brett is gone, Cole might throw us out. But would he do something like that to his own grandson? Is he that cruel?

  Yes, he is. He’s worse than cruel.

  I finally stand again, but before I turn around to head upstairs, the sound of a key turning in the lock of the front door stops me in my tracks.

  I clutch my middle as if trying to hold in the pain. Please God, don’t let it be Cole. I cannot face him right now.

  It’s Janella. She looks surprised to see me on the stairs.

  I don’t even know how to start telling her, or anyone for that matter, what happened to Brett. Maybe I should wait until it comes out in the news. It’s only a matter of time. Maybe it already has.

  “Sorry, Mrs. Wilton.” She clutches the handle of her handbag as she shifts from one foot to the other.

  She looks different today. Her braid is not as neat as it usually is, and her eyes are red and puffy. She’s even wearing her yellow, knee-length summer dress backwards.

  She already knows.

  At first, I’m relieved, then I panic because I don’t know the exact story being shared by the press. I’m afraid to find out.

  I nod and press my lips together. The tears come back to choke me. I allow them to slide down my cheeks unhindered.

  “Get sleep.” She averts her gaze from mine. “I look after Liam, okay?”

  Liam. He will be awake at any moment now. I don’t want him to see me crying. Telling him that his father is dead will be the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life.

  I do need Janella’s help. There are a lot of things I will need t
o take care of, like funeral arrangements. Everything feels so overwhelming that I’m already feeling suffocated before I start.

  “Are you sure?” I ask Janella. If she takes care of Liam, I can at least have time alone to grieve.

  “Is okay. I do it.” Janella twists her hands in front of her. She probably doesn’t know how to act around a widow, but she also looks awfully sad. Even though Brett was my husband, she knew him before I did. It’s a loss to her as well.

  I want to accept her offer, but as much as I want to be alone, I also need to be with Liam, and I want to give Janella a chance to gather herself.

  “No. It’s okay. I’m taking him out for a bit. You can take the day off if you like. There’s not much to do around here.”

  She nods, but she doesn’t turn to leave.

  “Janella, is everything all right?”

  “I want speak to you, Mrs. Wilton.”

  I can’t imagine anything more important than going to my son right now. She probably wants to hear more about what happened to Brett, and I can’t do that, not before I tell Liam his father is dead.

  “Can we talk tomorrow?” I ask. “I want to take Liam out for breakfast.”

  “No. Tomorrow too late. I clean and wait for you.” She nods at me and walks in the direction of the kitchen.

  Now that Brett is no longer here, maybe she wants to quit her job. Whatever it is she wants to discuss has to wait.

  I drag myself like a wet blanket up the rest of the stairs and go to the guest bathroom. I left jeans and a T-shirt in there yesterday morning when I used the shower. I can’t bring myself to go into our bedroom. Not yet.

  Dressed and ready to go, I make my way to Liam’s room.

  He opens his eyes as soon as I enter, rubbing them with his fists the way he used to do as a baby.

  His curly hair looks shiny in the morning light. I had forgotten to close the blinds last night. I’m surprised the light did not wake him.

  “Morning, Superboy.” That’s what he likes to be called. He told me that one day he will be both a doctor and Superboy.

  “Morning, Mommy.”