The living room walls were a mint green, trimmed in white. The floors boasted of varnished wood that were bare of any rugs.
They moved on into the dining room to find the same matching paint and floors.
“Watch your footing,” Owen warned, nodding to the dip at the entrance to the kitchen.
Jessica stepped down into the spacious room, a small gasp escaping her lips.
It was the first positive reaction Owen had seen from her in longer than he could remember. “You like it?”
“It’s beautiful.” She moved forward, running her fingertips along the red-tiled kitchen counters.
The backsplash had been tiled as well in a black-and-white checkered pattern. The sink, stove, and refrigerator were a deep onyx and the microwave a blood red, same as the counters. The checkered floor tiles set off the rest of the room as did the deep, red rug in the center.
After spending several minutes admiring the kitchen, Owen left Jessica to acquaint herself with the rest of the house while he unloaded the truck.
She eventually wandered out to help him.
“You should go rest,” Owen offered, watching her struggle with a box. “The movers will be here shortly with the furniture. They can help me with this stuff.”
“Are you sure?”
A moving truck turned onto the street just then. “I’m positive. In fact, there they are now. I’ll have them set up the bed first thing so you can relax a bit before dinner.”
She set the box down by the back of the truck. “What are we going to do for dinner?”
Owen shrugged. “We’ll Google some local establishments and see what pops up. Hopefully, they’ll have Chinese.”
Attempting a small smile, Jessica nodded and trailed back toward the house.
Chapter Four
Jessica moved through the rooms of her new house, undeniably detached. At any other time, she would have loved the new place, but not without Jacob.
A feeling of anxiety swept through her, sending the room spinning around her. She leaned heavily against the wall and squeezed her eyes shut tightly. She couldn’t have a panic attack her first day in the new place…she just couldn’t.
“Hello?”
The sound of a woman’s voice echoed off the walls of the living room, high-pitched and nasally. “Anyone here?”
Jessica’s eyes flew open. She sucked in great gulps of air attempting to rein in her panic. “I’ll be right there,” she managed to gasp between bouts of dizziness.
“Not a problem. Take your time.”
After several more heartbeats of leaning against the wall for support, Jessica managed to survive her attack. But the anxiety she felt inside still remained.
She straightened her shirt, ran a hand through her long, dark hair, and forced one foot in front of the other.
“I hope I didn’t disturb you?” a short, plump woman with bleached blonde hair announced with a smile. She held a covered dish in her hands.
Jessica attempted to return her smile but failed miserably. “You didn’t.”
“I’m Margarette Hawthorn, but my friends call me Marge. I live on the other side of the cul-de-sac, on the right. The one with the fish mailbox.”
“I didn’t notice a mailbox. Sorry.”
Marge appeared uncomfortable. She suddenly thrust the dish she held at Jessica. “I’d heard y’all would be arriving today, so I made you a casserole to welcome you into the neighborhood. I hope you like it.”
Surprised by the gesture, Jessica accepted the dish. “Thank you, Marge. I’m Jessica, and my husband’s name is Owen. You really didn’t have to go through all this trouble.”
“Well, it’s wonderful to meet you, and it’s no trouble at all.”
An awkward silence fell.
Marge clasped her hands in front of her and gazed around at the bare walls. “I see they painted since the last time I was here.”
“You knew the people who lived here before us?” Jessica trailed off into the kitchen to put the casserole away.
Marge followed. “They were a really nice couple. Had two rambunctious children. Do you and your husband have any kids?”
Jessica’s throat closed. She set the dish down onto the countertop and shook her head.
“Oh, that’s too bad,” Marge continued, obviously not noticing Jessica’s distress. “Well, you’re still young, I’m sure you’ll fill the house with little ones in no time.”
Fighting back the tears that threatened, Jessica cleared her throat and turned to face her neighbor. “Thank you again for the casserole, Mrs. Hawthorn. I would offer you a drink, but we haven’t unloaded the dishes yet.”
“Please, call me Marge,” the woman insisted, turning back toward the living room. “I’ll get out of your hair. But once you are settled, Benny and I would love to have you over for dinner.”
The last thing Jessica wanted was to mingle with the neighbors. She craved nothing more than to be left alone. Regardless, she found herself saying, “That would be nice. Thank you.”
Marge nodded and then left, leaving Jessica to wonder what had just happened. She’d never had anyone bring her a casserole in Chicago. Not that she had many friends. She didn’t. She’d had fewer still after Jacob’s death.
“Who was that?” Owen came through the door, carrying a large box with the word PICTURES scrawled across the top.
Jessica pointed toward the far corner of the living room. “You can put that over there. The woman who just left is one of our neighbors. Her name is Marge Hawthorn. She brought us a casserole.”
Owen set the box down and straightened. “A casserole? What for?”
Jessica shrugged. “Sort of a house warming gift, I think.”
“That was nice of her.” Owen wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm.
It was nice, Jessica silently agreed, hoping she hadn’t come across as rude to the woman.
Several different men began filing into the house carrying boxes. Jessica stepped aside as Owen lead them all to specific rooms.
“I’m going to have a look around outside,” she called out, hoping her husband heard her over the murmuring of voices inside the house.
When no response came, she strode through the open front door and into the yard.
The place really was beautiful to Jessica. She’d never seen trees the size of the ones surrounding the house. They were majestic with their low-lying limbs twisting toward the ground in different shapes.
Jessica appreciated the fact that the house sat at the end of the cul-de-sac, it assured more privacy.
She moved around the yard, her gaze straying to the wooden, two-story house on the left side of the cul-de-sac.
The place appeared to have been empty for some time if the peeling paint and overgrown grass were any indication. One of the downstairs windows was busted and an old, dingy-white curtain hung half askew from its shattered pane.
An icy wind suddenly swept through the yard, sending goosebumps peppering her skin. Jessica rubbed at her arms, her gaze glued to the front of that house. It seemed to call to her, silently beckoning her forward.
She trailed across the lawn, dodging the swaying moss that hung from the oak trees until she reached the adjoining property line.
Another burst of cold air appeared, sweeping through the grass and stirring up the leaves at Jessica’s feet. The chilly wind felt out of place on the otherwise warm, summer day.
A strange sensation overtook her in that moment, raising the fine hairs on the back of her neck. Something bad had happened in that house. Jessica wasn’t sure how she knew it, she only knew that she did.
She turned to go when movement in the upstairs window caught her eye. She squinted against the glare of sunlight trickling through the trees and peered up at the dirty glass of the window. There, staring back at her, stood a dark-haired boy, wearing what looked to be a striped T-shirt.
He couldn’t be more than seven years old, she guessed, attempting to make out his features. The
same age as Jacob had been before… She couldn’t finish the thought.
Jessica lifted a hand, sending him a quick wave, but the boy didn’t reciprocate. He continued to stare down at her for long moments before backing from her view altogether.
Chapter Five
Jessica scanned the area surrounding the empty house for a bike or other signs of children at play but came up empty. Aside from the boy she’d seen in the window, no evidence of life existed at the place.
She trekked carefully through the overgrown grass and made her way to the front door to try the knob. Locked. Surely the child didn’t climb through the broken window?
Chewing on the inside of her mouth, Jessica decided she’d skirt the house and try the back door.
She spun around and nearly ran into a thick, balding man standing directly behind her.
“Jesus!” She stumbled back a step, her hand flying to her chest. “You startled me.”
When the man simply stood there watching her with a pair of hawk-like eyes, Jessica inched back another step. “You must be one of my neighbors. I just moved in next door.”
“You’re trespassing,” was his only response.
More than a little uncomfortable under his scrutiny, Jessica fidgeted with the collar of her shirt. “I’m sorry. I had no idea this was private property. I’ll just be going then.”
Without bothering to move back and allow her to pass, he folded his arms over his thick chest, drawing attention to a greasy food stain on his white T-shirt.
Jessica’s heart began to pound. She’d never been so uncomfortable in all her life. He reminded her of a wife-beating psychopath she’d seen in a movie, some years ago.
“Eustis!” a woman called from the red-brick house to their left. “Where are you?”
The man’s already ruddy face turned nearly purple with obvious rage. He flicked a glance in the direction the voice had come from and then spun on his heel and marched off.
More than a little anxious to be gone, Jessica hurried across the overgrown lawn, not stopping until she reached the protection of the oak trees in her own front yard.
She peered over her shoulder in time to watch the creepy balding man disappear inside the red-brick house.
* * * *
The rest of the day was spent in a flurry of unloading and unpacking. Yet, no matter how busy Jessica became, she couldn’t shake the eerie feeling the creepy neighbor had left her with.
The sound of a door slamming startled her. She glanced up to find Owen watching her with a strange look in his eyes.
“What?” she softly questioned, straightening from her task of emptying a box of dishes.
He shook his head. “Nothing. Just appreciating your natural beauty.”
“Is that a subtle way of pointing out that I have no make-up on?” Jess forced a smile to ensure he knew her to be teasing.
Owen grinned in return. “Now that you mention it…”
She cleared her throat. “It’s getting late. Perhaps we should get cleaned up and go in search of a place to eat.”
“Have you had a chance to taste that casserole?” Owen stepped down into the kitchen and peeled back the foil covering the glass dish. “It looks delicious.”
It smelled delicious too, Jessica noticed. She opened a box of plates and handed two of them to Owen. “Grab a spoon from that drawer to your left and dip us up some.”
Owen heaped their plates high with the heavenly smelling food and passed one, along with a fork, to Jess. The two of them took a seat on a couple of still-packed boxes and devoured every last drop of Marge’s casserole.
“I saw that you met another of our neighbors in front of that old, abandoned house.” Owen got to his feet and rinsed his plate in the sink.
Jess followed suit. “I wouldn’t go so far as to say we met.”
“What do you mean?”
With a shrug, she loaded both their plates into the dishwasher. “He scared the crap out of me and then proceeded to inform me that I was trespassing.”
Owen’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”
“Really. I never even got his name. Plus, there were no signs posted or anything. He probably would have had the bloody runs if he’d seen the kid inside the house.”
“What kid?”
Thinking about the small face staring down at her from that dirty window, Jessica shook her head. “I don’t know. Just some boy I saw in the upstairs window.”
Owen brought his hand up and massaged the back of his neck. “Well, hopefully he made it out of there with his hide intact.”
“Yeah, maybe so.” Rinsing out the empty casserole dish, Jess loaded it into the dishwasher and then stepped up into the dining room. “I’m going to take a shower. I’ll make the bed as soon as I get out.”
“Sounds good.”
Jessica spent the next twenty minutes enjoying her shower, her mind processing everything that had happened since her arrival in Sparkleberry Hills. But nothing stood out as much as that old house sharing the cul-de-sac with her or the little boy staring down at her from that window. He’d reminded her of Jacob.
She frantically scrubbed at her scalp in an effort to push thoughts of Jacob from her mind. Without the medication to dull her senses, the pain of his passing was as fresh as if it had happened yesterday.
Her psychiatrist has begun weaning her off the pills the week after her last visit with Dr. Knox—the day Owen had dropped the mother of all bombs on her…his job transfer.
Jessica had fought Owen at every turn, refusing to leave the home Jacob had lived in since birth. But she’d eventually given in. Deep down, she’d known her husband to be right, she would have never been able to get on with her life as long as she remained in that house.
Practicing the breathing exercises Doctor Knox had taught her, Jessica took slow, calculated breaths through her nose, exhaling in the same calming manner from her mouth. She concentrated on the task of washing her hair until the overwhelming feeling began to pass.
“Save me some hot water,” Owen playfully demanded, opening the bathroom door. “I feel like I’ve wallowed in a cesspool of sweat.”
Jess pasted on a small smile, pulled the curtain back, and poked her head out. “I’m almost done.”
“Mind if I join you?”
And just like that, the anxiety was back.
If she allowed Owen into that shower with her, he would want sex. Of that, she had no doubt. He was a healthy, thirty-eight-year-old man who hadn’t been with his wife in more than three years.
Jessica stared at his handsome face, the hopeful expression in his eyes, and her heart cracked. What was it about intimacy that terrified her so?
Doctor Knox had theorized that intimacy represented fear to Jessica. It required her opening her heart and emotions to another person; something she hadn’t been able to do since Jacob’s death.
How could she participate in something meant to be pleasurable when her only child lay in a cold, dark grave? “I’m sorry, Owen. I’ll be done in just a minute.”
Disappointment shone in his eyes, but he didn’t argue. He simply closed the door as quietly as he’d opened it.
Chapter Six
Owen stood in the shower, his tears mingling with the water sluicing down his body. He’d lost more than Jacob on that cold, winter’s day over three years ago. He’d lost his wife as well.
Jessica thought he didn’t feel as deeply about Jacob’s death as she did. She couldn’t be more wrong. Owen felt his son’s absence in his soul.
In truth, it was harder on Owen to hold his feelings inside; to hide them from his wife in order to remain strong for her. If he’d fallen apart outwardly the way he had inside, Jessica would have never survived.
Owen had grieved every single day since Jacob had been taken from him. He grieved still, to the point he felt less than whole. But life didn’t stop for loss, pain, and grief. Life continued on, and Owen had no choice but to continue with it. He could never forget Jacob, nor did he want to. But
moving to Florida had been the right decision, and one he hadn’t taken lightly. He and Jessica would begin their new life and hopefully find some kind of happiness.
She seemed stronger since coming off some of the medications. Though she still had some antianxiety meds for emergencies.
After finishing his shower, Owen switched off the water and stepped out. He dried quickly before pulling on a pair of boxer-briefs and entering the bedroom.
“Jess?”
When no answer came, he padded barefoot down the hall and into the living room to find her standing at a window, staring out.
He switched on the light. “What are you doing?”
“Turn it off,” she whispered without moving.
Owen did as she asked and then trailed across the room to stand behind her. “What is it?”
She jerked her chin toward the old, abandoned house. “Do you see him?”
“See who?” Owen leaned in closer to the glass, his gaze scanning the front of the two-story house.
Jessica moved over a few inches to give him some room. “The boy in the window.”
Owen squinted against the street light glare and searched every window on the front of that house. “I don’t see anyone.”
“There!” Jess whispered impatiently. “Top, left window.”
Nothing moved that he could see. Not a curtain, a shadow, or a light. “It was probably just a reflection from the street light. Come on, let’s go to bed.”
Jessica stiffened. “You think I imagined it.” It wasn’t a question.
“I didn’t say that, Jess.”
She turned to face him, her eyes gleaming in the light of the moon spilling through the window. “You didn’t have to. I can hear it in your voice.”
Owen wanted to ask her if she’d taken some of her emergency meds, but he decided against it. It would only anger her even more. “What you hear in my voice is exhaustion. If you think you saw something in that window…then I believe you.”
“I didn’t see something, Owen. I saw someone. It looked like the same child I saw earlier today.
The Boy in the Window: A Psychological Thriller Page 2
