Something in the Dark

by Pamela Cowan

  "My husband showed me how to smoke. I was curious, you see. Women weren't allowed to smoke then, least not in public. He didn't think that was fair and . . .

  Austin found her mind wandering, as she heard the now familiar story, but politely forced herself to be attentive.

  “. . . and I would sneak out in the woods and have a few puffs,” Granny continued. “Once we got married I didn't have to sneak, and it wasn't near as fun. Nothing ever is as much fun as sneakin’ and gettin’ away with it. Ask any politician."

  Austin smiled. Sometimes, when Granny told stories about her early life in Virginia, she would lapse into a sort of singsong, her accent, words and phrases becoming pure hill country. At other times she would speak with the clarity and enunciation of the most pretentious English professor. Strangely, neither seemed more or less appropriate for her. They were both just part of who she was.

  "Thank you for the cookies, Granny," Austin said, preparing to stand. “I think the guys are about ready to go, and as much as I'd like to stay and visit, it gets dark early these days."

  "Austin, I'm an old lady,” Granny said, reaching out to pat Austin’s hand. “Some of the neighbors think I'm a bit queer. Sometimes I think they might be right. But I've seen a lot of things and I'm not one to question them. I'm a Christian, have been all my life. I know that sometimes signs are sent to us. Why and how this is I don't know. But, last night I had a dream." Granny continued, “It was very strong and it stayed with me after I woke. I've had those kinds of dreams a few times, and sometimes they come true. Oh, not chapter and verse, but the sense of them, the feeling you get from them. Well, it's hard to explain. The reason I’m telling you all this is because the dream was about you.”

  Granny had Austin’s full attention now.

  “You were at the side of some water,” Granny continued. “Don't know if it was lake or river. Pretty sure not ocean ‘cause there was no waves, but I could be wrong. You were sitting there, beside that water. The moon was out. Must have been night. The moon was biggest I've ever seen. Big and bright and the stars, thousands of them, and all the way to the horizon you could see them. It was like you were sitting inside an upside-down bowl, painted with stars, and the moon over your shoulder like. You were sitting there on the ground and water all around you, dark it was and deep.

  “Then I seen how it was creeping up on you, getting higher all-round. I tried to yell out, to warn you to tuck your feet in. Crazy, like most dreams are, me not wanting you to get your feet wet. You were sitting there looking straight up at the sky, not giving no mind to the water ‘cause see, them stars, they was going out, one after another and then two at a time, three at a time, four. . .

  "So you didn’t see that water, though it come up and touched you, sort of seeped up around you. You must have felt it finally ‘cause you reached down and brushed at it, like a body might brush away a bug that had lit on em. Only your fingers went into that water and when you pulled them out they were all black, like you'd dipped them into an ink well. You got this look on your face. Lord, I never seen such a look. You were scared. So afraid of that blackness on your fingers and that water was coming up fast, climbing over your ankles, your calves, your knees, and you opened your mouth to scream and I woke up screaming for you.

  “That scream,” Granny said, with a self-conscious laugh, “nearly scared my old tomcat to death.”

  For a moment Austin sat there speechless. She’d been so caught up in the dream that her heart was actually pounding. Shaking it off, she looked at Granny and said, “That sounds horrible, but it was only a bad dream."

  "A bad dream for certain, sure. It made me feel all jittery, and I got up and had some warm milk and a touch of that gin you kids picked up for me.”

  Granny knocked her pipe out against the edge of the porch. “Well, that's all I had to say. Maybe it wasn't nothing. Maybe it was a warning to you. Either way, you be careful today, and take care with that equipment you use.”

  “I’ll be careful,” Austin promised.

  Chapter 3

  Austin had divided her lawn maintenance territory into five sections of Blue Spruce: the North Hills, the Heights, The South Hills, Lakeshore, and downtown. Her crews worked in a different area each day of the week.

  Today was Thursday, so they were in the South Hills, a semi-rural area of older homes and small farms. Most residents there keep a few cows or a horse, chickens and almost always a garden or remnants of an orchard.

  Both Austin’s house and her nursery were located in the South Hills, her nursery near the base of the hills and her house a couple miles further up a winding gravel road.

  Austin had moved to the town after college, lured to the area by a desire to live near her best friend, and kept there by the beauty of the county.

  Near the center of Oregon, in the Southwest corner of Eulalona County is the town of Blue Spruce. The town sits in a fir and pine-studded valley that’s part of the Cascade Mountain Range. Austin had been fascinated by the topography of the area ever since noticing on a map how much the valley resembled a hand, with the palm flat and the fingers pointing east.

  She kept that map in mind when dividing up her lawn maintenance territory.

  At the wrist of the valley is the Lakeshore, a neighborhood of homes whose docks lead from manicured back lawns to the dark blue of Sapphire Lake. These are the homes of people who love to sail and Jet Ski, and who can afford to pay for the privilege.

  To the north is a low range of hills that hold most of the area's gravel factories and lumber mills. Homes in this area are smaller but just as well-kept by their owners.

  To the east, at the tips of the fingers, are The Heights, another range of hills, but twisted and crumpled like the sheets on a giant’s unkempt bed. Here, on torturously winding streets with breathtaking views of the valley, are the homes of the town’s most prosperous homeowners. Driving the truck with its trailer up the long switchbacks, and finding a place to turn around, not to mention mowing up and down steep hills, was challenging for Austin and her crews. Fortunately the residents were able to pay well for their lawn care, and Austin was well compensated for the effort.

  The actual town of Blue Spruce, shortened to Spruce by the locals, takes up only a small grid of a dozen streets at the base of The Heights, right where the first and second fingers join. The palm of the hand is potato farms and cattle ranches and miles and miles of hay fields. Austin rarely worked for farmers. They had their own equipment and the do-it-yourself attitude that could put her out of business.

  Two main rivers meander from the north and south corners of The Heights to empty into Sapphire Lake, neatly dividing the valley into thirds. The Diamond in the north is used by the lumber mills and is brown, polluted with mud and silt. The Broken River, which dives underground for a few miles and then bubbles back up, just past the town limits, is loaded with native fish and clean enough for swimming.

  Austin was looking forward to Saturday and the canoe trip on Broken River she’d planned with her best friend, Janice. The clouds and cold would not bother Janice, who was a native of the high altitude Oregon Cascades and knew how to dress for the ever-changing weather.

  They left Granny’s house, and it was only a short drive to their next work site. The South Hills day was usually an easy one, the lawns large enough for the tractor and flat. The rest of the day saw them moving from one job to another with no more interruptions or delays.

  The wind began to pick up around two in the afternoon, and a cold mix of rain and sleet began to fall. They zipped up their raincoats and pulled up their hoods. Still, even though they were familiar with unpredictable weather and had dressed well, nothing could completely protect them from the numbing cold. The gray sky grew ever darker and Austin began thinking again about Granny's equally dark dream.

  Stamping her feet to warm them, Austin started trimming out the last of the yards. Back and forth, back and forth. Dark waters climbing up around her. What a strange dream. Maybe Granny’s
dream had only foretold what a lousy day it was going to be.

  To make things worse she was getting wet to the skin. She’d caught her raincoat on a nail in the back of the truck and now there was a long tear in it under one arm. She'd have to sew it. It was a new coat, so no sense even thinking about throwing it away and buying a new one, and if there was anything she hated more than sewing she didn't know what. Didn’t matter. No way could she afford to just throw things away, not when she had to come up with enough money to get the roof on the second greenhouse fixed. Stupid dream. So maybe she did feel like she was drowning sometimes. She wasn't, not really. Just wanting it all to happen right away. That was her problem.

  She swept the machine back and forth, getting some enjoyment from decapitating the seed-heavy heads of the grass. Off with their heads. Off with their heads. Her mood began to shift. She even managed a small smile. The pity party is officially over, she thought. She shut off the machine and put it away, then retrieved the check from the place where almost everybody left it, under the front doormat. By the time she came back with it, Josh was sitting on the back of the truck, lighting his post-lawn cigarette while Paco was tying down the mower. The back of the truck was full of grass clippings.

  "Come on," she said. "You can smoke in the truck. I'm too tired to wait for you, and too cold to complain.”

  "All right," said Josh enthusiastically, and he held the door, waiting for Paco.

  Austin left her window open several inches to let the smoke out, but she had been telling the truth, she was too cold to worry about such trifling things as lung cancer or emphysema. All she cared about, at the moment, was getting home and taking a hot shower.

  She drove too fast up the winding road that climbed into the north hills to the county landfill. The man inside the small shack at the gate waved her through without asking for payment. He extended this courtesy once in a while to his frequent customers, usually landscapers or construction crews. She waved and mouthed a ‘Thank you’ as she drove past and up to the steaming pile of grass clippings they had been adding to all summer.

  Josh jumped out of the truck and unhitched the trailer. As soon as he was through, Austin swung the pickup around and backed to the edge of the grass hill. Before she had even come to a complete stop, Josh was jumping into the back and reaching for a pitchfork. She and Paco climbed out of the truck and helped him unload the sodden, heavily compacted pile of grass. This was her least favorite part of the day. Not only did the landfill have its usual knee-buckling aroma, but grass, sitting under sun and rain and baking into a bacterially active stew, smells nothing like a newly mown lawn. Still, better to get rid of it today, because time did nothing to improve the stench. It took only a few minutes to fork, shovel and sweep the pickup clean. In a short while they had hitched up the trailer and were bumping down the landfill road. As soon as they cleared the gate, Josh lit a cigarette.

  "Just killing the smell," he said in response to her disapproving look.

  She shook her head, but didn't say any more. She had to be careful that the people she hired didn't think they could get away with murder. She knew she had a tendency to be too friendly with her employees. More than once Paco had warned her that it wasn't such a good idea.

  "They will think you are weak. They will try little things to test you and then they will try bigger things, and soon who will have the business? Not you."

  "It’s your fault," she had responded. "You spoil me. I reach for something, you put it in my hand. I wonder if I remembered to do something, you say you’ve taken care of it. You are the best employee I ever had, and if you ever quit me, I will devote myself to making your life miserable.”

  "I understand entirely well. When is my raise?"

  "Ha. When is mine?"

  So, was Josh testing her to see if she'd enforce the “no smoking in the truck” ban, or had he assumed that since she let them smoke on the way to the landfill that it was all right? Should she say something? Should she let it go? Was this the sort of problem that drove so many CEOs to drink? She smiled at the thought and decided to let it go. She didn’t have the energy to challenge Josh – at the moment.

  They pulled into the wide driveway beside Austin’s house and Austin cleaned out the cab of the pickup, removing the empty soda cans and trash from lunch. Josh pulled a hose into the trailer and washed down the equipment, sending a green stream of water and grass clippings down the driveway. From there it flowed into a culvert, cheaply constructed of fifty gallon drums laid end to end, that carried the sluggish runoff to an irrigation ditch. It was part of a system meant to carry water to the hay fields behind the house, but Austin had yet to decide whether she was going to try to grow hay herself or rent the use of the land to one of her farming neighbors. It was just another decision she would have to think about. But not tonight. Paco topped off the gas tanks, added oil to the trimmer mixture and made sure all the equipment was secured. That done, they were ready for the next day’s work. As they were finishing, the yard-light at the corner of the garage hummed noisily and blinked on.

  "Holy shit, I think I'm blind." Josh said, dramatically throwing his arm across his eyes.

  Austin grinned at his theatrics. "It's not that bright."

  "Are you kidding? Tell the truth, how often do ships try to dock here? Do the airplanes landing in the yard keep you awake all night?"

  "Not one bit, it seems” she said, holding her hand in front of her mouth as she yawned. You two are going to meet here in the morning and work Snob Hill, er, The Heights tomorrow, right?"

  "Yes," said Paco.

  "OK. I'll check the phone for messages and if anyone has canceled, or anything has changed, I'll stick a note on the front door before I leave for the nursery. Oh, and don't forget to tie up the O’Brian’s arborvitaes tomorrow. If we get an early snow and they get bent out of shape the O’Brians are going to be extremely unhappy, especially since they’ve already called and reminded me twice this week."

  "I won't forget," Paco promised.

  "Yeah, I've seen Mr. O’Brian bent out of shape before. Not pretty," offered Josh, grinning.

  `"You want a ride home?" Paco asked him, not getting the play on words.

  "Nah, it'd take longer to load the bike than to just ride there. I'll see you in the morning."

  Josh unlocked his bike and, with a final cigarette hanging defiantly from his lip, pedaled out of the driveway and turned right, heading for his parent's house just on the other side of the hill behind Austin’s place.

  Paco climbed into his pickup, backed out, and headed in the opposite direction, toward town and his waiting wife and two young children.

  Austin felt the emptiness left by their departure and hurried into the house. Suddenly the wide fields, with their deep shadows, seemed like perfect hiding places for all kinds of unimaginable things. Once inside, she locked the door behind her and sighed with relief. She knew her night fears were ridiculous but she could no sooner control them than she could the weather.

  Dinner or shower first was her next concern. She hung her coat on a hook to drip dry on the patch of linoleum just inside the door. Then she sat on the bench that had been placed there for the same reason, to spare the carpet, and unknotted the wet laces on her boots with some difficulty. She curled and flexed her toes and sighed. Shower first–a nice, long, hot shower.

  Moments later Austin was standing under a blast of water so hot it turned her skin bright red. She closed her eyes and sighed as she got truly warm for the first time in hours. She shampooed her hair, making a face when she found a cluster of grass seed tangled there. Very attractive, she thought, I wonder how long that's been there.

  She finished washing her hair and combed conditioner through it with her fingers. Next she rubbed a bar of ivory soap over her bath sponge and began to scrub her skin. Tiny cuts on her fingers stung but she ignored them. She ran the sponge around her neck and down her arms, then over her breasts and across her stomach. She noted with some detachment that her bo
dy looked great, not a bit of fat anywhere. A nice dividend for having a physically demanding job, she reminded herself.

  Not that it was that demanding lately. She had two people working the landscaping business and two at the nursery. Four people counting on her for their paychecks was what it meant. It had happened so slowly: needing some extra help, she’d hired Paco, and then Josh. Then buying the nursery, and that meant another two people and then she got too busy at the nursery and Paco needed help, so there were the part-timers in the summer.

  Austin shook her head and fought off a wave, first of wonder and then of fear. How had she managed to become responsible for the livelihoods of other people? It was crazy. Thinking about it was disturbing, so she would quit thinking about it. She turned her thoughts to Blake.

  Blake, now there was a nice distraction. She’d met him barely a week ago, when he walked into the nursery with a map open in his hands. He’d said he was lost. That he was supposed to be meeting a real estate agent to look at some ranch property. She gave him directions. First pointing out his destination and then, at his urging, using a yellow highlighter to draw the route on the map. Bent over the map, intent on what she was doing, she’d suddenly realized how close he was standing. Close enough to smell the clean citrus scent of his cologne. Close enough to make it hard to catch her breath.

  Blake was tall and lean and everything about him, from his longish blond hair, green eyes, sweat-stained cowboy hat, tight jeans, and Toni Lama boots appealed to her. As her brother Muncie often accused, since moving to Blue Spruce she had indeed “gone native,” and the Marlboro man ads were not lost on her. This man could easily have been the model for one of those ads. At five foot eight, she was used to standing at least close to eye- level with most men. That she actually had to look up at him stirred something in her stomach that she knew was primeval and silly, but impossible to ignore.