Their footsteps echoed hollowly in the garage, which was empty of people; it was still very early. Cary hit his car alarm transmitter and the car beeped in response. He set the bags down on the concrete and removed the car cover. The BMW didn't need a cover since it was kept inside all the time anyway, but Cary felt that it worked as an extra security measure. He balled up the car cover and opened the trunk. He tossed it inside and then placed the overnight bags in after. He shut the trunk and admired the glossy burgundy exterior of the car as he walked around to passenger door, where Diana was standing.
"Your carriage awaits, milady." He opened the door for her with an exaggerated gallant sweep of his arm and bowed.
"Why thank you, kind sir," she said merrily as she seated herself. Diana was always so poised.
Cary smiled at her, then went around to the driver's side. Diana had opened his door for him and within moments they were on their way. As they drove out into the morning light, the sun shined on Diana's chestnut hair, illuminating it like a halo. She smiled at him and laughed with joy. Cary squeezed her hand, then pulled into traffic.
After a quick stop at the corner drugstore to pick up Cary's sedatives, they were on their way upstate. After spending some time in the congested city traffic, they finally made it to the highways where Cary could really open the car up. A white-faced Diana asked him to please take it easy when the speedometer reached the 90 m.p.h. mark.
"Okay, sweetie," he sighed. "I was just feeling good. I've got an open road, a great car and a beautiful woman. What more could a man want, I ask?"
"I hope you don't value those things necessarily in that order," Diana said, giving Cary's knee an affectionate squeeze.
"Hey, this thing's got a tilt steering wheel..." He said lewdly, spreading his legs and giving himself a suggestive rub. He looked at her with a wicked grin and raised his eyebrows a couple of times.
"You're disgusting!" Diana laughed, turning crimson.
She had laughed, but Diana didn't find his implication amusing in the least. Not that she was a prude by any means; in fact, Cary had always been the most sexually reserved of the two. This just wasn't like him at all. She remembered the way he had tweaked her nipple the other night and frowned. That wasn't like him, either. She didn't like the way things were going, but she continued to cling to the hope that this vacation would miraculously make everything all better.
There was a long silence between them. Diana began scanning the radio stations, and Cary drove faster. He was ashamed at what he had said. He didn't know why he said it, either. He knew Diana wouldn't like it. She liked him tender and sweet--the way he really was. He didn't know what had come over him, but lately the thought of hurting Diana got him sexually aroused. He wanted to put his hands around her neck and squeeze...
No, he didn't! Why was he thinking that? He stepped on the accelerator harder, thinking maybe he could leave his evil thoughts behind him.
As he drove, Cary began to appreciate the beauty that surrounded him. The trees, the flowers, the blue sky. "Sure is pretty here, isn't it?"
"Yes," Diana said, glad to break the silence between them. She had tried to feign sleep, but she couldn't relax well enough to be convincing. "We should be there soon."
And they were. Although it had been a couple of years, Cary instantly recognized the opulent surroundings of Sherwood Heights. He couldn't quite picture Diana growing up here in this little snobby community, but she had.
"There's the lake," Diana said, pointing unnecessarily. "Take a right here at the next street. No, not here. Here."
Cary turned the wheel and the car rounded the corner smoothly. It handled like a dream. Cary decided that he would not sell the car after all.
A few moments later he was pulling into the circular red brick driveway of Marlisa Moon's manor. It was flanked by two magnificent oak trees and covered in dark green ivy and purple morning glories.
The house looked like something out of Lifestyles of the Rich & Famous. Of course, it had been in Diana's father's family for years, and Marlisa didn't have to work a day in her life to keep it up. She had been well-provided for and Bruce's parents, who were still alive and doted on her from across the miles in their native Scotland. They had moved back after Bruce's death, unable to live in the house he had grown up in any longer. They'd tried to convince Marlisa to come with them, bringing their grandchild, but she had refused. She loved Sherwood Heights and was determined to stay.
Cary brought the BMW to halt in front of the home's ornately carved oak double doors, and before he had taken the key from the ignition, Marlisa Moon had opened them and come running out. It was more a dramatic canter, actually. She had a smile on her face, and her arms were spread in welcome.
Diana jumped from the car and ran into her mother's embrace. She suddenly felt like crying. She choked back a sob, hoping her mother hadn't noticed the desperate way which she had clung to her. "I'm so happy to see you," she said, smiling unconvincingly.
Marlisa didn't notice. Instead she was inspecting Diana's chestnut bob. "I see you cut your hair," she said with unveiled disapproval.
Diana didn't see her mother on a regular basis, and although she loved her very much, she was simply too busy to keep in close touch. But then when she was hugging her, she realized just how much she needed her mother. If only she could confide in her. But Marlisa would never see beyond the so-called sins of her lifestyle enough for Diana to discuss the odd changes in Cary's personality, sexually or otherwise.
"Bruce definitely would not like it," Marlisa tsk-tsked, shaking her head. "Your father liked long hair. He thought it was more feminine." She put a hand to her intricately piled hair and patted it. She still wore the same lengthy, back-combed hair-dos as she had in the 1970s.
Cary sat in the car, watching mother and daughter. Diana had definitely gotten her petite frame and natural grace from her mother, but there the similarities ended. While Diana's face was open, sweet and innocent, Marlisa's was closed, dour and disapproving. Had it not been for her stern expression and ever-furrowed brow, Marlisa Moon might have been quite pretty in a plastic Jackie Kennedy sort of way. Around her neck she always wore the small gold cross that her husband had bought for her when she told him she was pregnant. Cary had been told the story in solemn detail the very first day he'd met Marlisa Moon; Diana warned him that it was her mother's most treasured (and tearful) story.
Marlisa turned to him and smiled. Not a nice smile. The kind of superior smile a millionaire might give a bellboy. "Cary Bouchard," she said with saccharine sweetness as he stepped out of the car. "How nice to see you again."
Marlisa felt like she was being pulled in two directions. One the one hand, Cary made his living writing blasphemous trash. Not that she had read it; oh no, such profanity would never meet her eyes. But she'd heard about it and had seen Cary on TV. On the other hand, the living he made was quite impressive and if he married Diana she would never have to worry about keeping a roof over her head. If she got married again maybe she would settle down this time, have children and forget about that silly bookstore. What kind of career was that? Marlisa just knew it was in the red most of the time. She decided that perhaps once Cary got to know her--once he was family--she could try and change his wicked ways. He does have potential, after all, she thought as she eyed the sparkling burgundy BMW and his smart Gucci loafers.
Cary smiled and said, "Nice to see you, too, Mrs. Moon. Thank you so much for letting us come on such short notice. It's all my fault. I suggested it on the spur of the moment."
"Quite all right," Marlisa said graciously as she held the door open for Diana and Cary. "The place is just such a mess, I..." she trailed off, smiling apologetically.
The place was immaculate, as always. The house was decorated in authentic Victorian, from top to bottom. Marlisa kept up the whole house, but she only occupied a small portion of it. Cary had only seen the sitting room, the solarium, dining room, kitchen, the guest bedroom and bathroom, and Diana's bedroom. M
arlisa had kept Diana's room exactly as it had been the day she left home to find her fortune in New York City. Diana liked it that way; whenever she came home she could always find some solace in her old room with the four-poster bed and the antique dresser. Her Victorian doll collection still sat, all in a queue, on top of that dresser.
"I've made some lemon tea," Marlisa announced with a tight smile. "Why don't you two put your things upstairs and then join me in the solarium?" She looked pointedly at Cary. "I trust you remember where the guest bedroom is?"
He smiled wryly as he turned away and made for the stairs. No, things hadn't changed a bit in the last few years. Cary wondered if Diana had brought Dick here. He wondered if Marlisa had insisted he sleep in the guest bedroom, too, even though he was Diana's lawfully wed husband.
Diana put her overnight bag on the bed and Cary followed suit in the room next door. The guest room was very austere; and just to keep the guests in their place, a large crucifix hung on the wall overlooking the bed. Cary left, shutting the door behind him, and went into Diana's room. He had only seen it once before, but he marveled again. It was so like her--pretty and neat. The only thing that was out of place was the doll collection. Diana, in all the time he had known her, had never been one to collect things. Books to some extent, but never anything frivolous like dolls. She wouldn't like them taking up any room.
He tapped one of the doll's perfectly miniaturized Victorian lace-up boots with his index finger. "Did your mom buy these for you?"
She nodded. He had guessed correctly. How well he knew her. "She gave me one for each birthday." Cary counted seventeen. "She said they were from my father."
"How sweet," he said sarcastically. "Presents from a dead man."
Diana looked at him sharply and left the room. Cary followed her downstairs, through the sitting room and into the solarium. The solarium was a glass walled and ceilinged room designed especially for sunning oneself. They were very popular in the 1800s, when the Moon family home had been built. There were elaborate tapestries on the floor, two stiff, uncomfortable chairs, a red velvet fainting couch and a small glass table upon which the silver tea service already sat.
Marlisa was sitting perched on the couch, nibbling at a scone. "I hope you don't mind my starting, but I was feeling a little peaked."
"Oh, I hope you're not ill, Mother!" Diana said, leaning forward solicitously. "We could have postponed our visit."
"Nonsense," Marlisa waved her away. "I'm perfectly fine. Have some tea."
Cary poured for both himself and Diana, and sipped his cup of English Breakfast, kissed with lemon, in silence while mother and daughter chattered on about people he didn't know.
His eyes strayed into the garden. The roses and pansies were in bloom, and the grass in the backyard was perfectly trimmed to a uniform three inches high. There was a gorgeous jacaranda tree blooming purple blossoms, and beyond that Cary could just make out the sunshine sparkling on the lake. Cary thought of how nice it would be to have an office in this room, where a writer could find inspiration in the beauty of nature. The hedges that marked the property line were perfectly trimmed and uniform in height, and...what was that? Cary could have sworn he saw a furtive movement in the hedges. He leaned forward, straining to see.
As if knowing Cary was watching, a gray head popped out from between the bushes and stared at him with baleful, yellow eyes. An Irish Wolfhound. Cary's mouth dropped open. Could it be the same dog that puked on his shoes in Hollywood? It stared at him intently for a few moments, as if trying to read his thoughts, then disappeared back into the bushes. Cary became aware that his hand was shaking when he felt a warmth on his knee...the tea.
He tore his eyes away from the hedges and set his teacup down on the silver tray. He picked up a napkin and dabbed at his trousers. He stole a glance at Marlisa and Diana; mother and daughter were still immersed in gossip. Cary kept his eyes downcast as he thought about what he had just seen. The same demonic dog? Crazy. Some sick joke? Maybe, but who else would know about the dog? A regular, ordinary dog, belonging to a neighbor? No, Irish Wolfhounds were too rare for such a coincidence. A hallucination? Likely. He'd better take a sedative.
"Excuse me," said Cary, rising. "I need to get something from my bag."
Diana glanced at him. "Are you okay? You look white as a sheet."
"Just a little headache."
"Why don't you try to take a nap? We'll have plenty of time to go for a walk this evening."
"Okay," Cary just wanted to get out of there. He hoped to hell that a sedative would do the trick. He was on vacation; he didn't want to be plagued by his nightmares--the sleeping or the waking ones.
Why couldn't he just have one day of peace? It just wasn't fair. Things seemed to be getting worse.
Chapter 10
He was being pulled down. Down into the dark damp earth. Down where earthworms and other slimy, slithering, sightless insects made their home. Down where putrid corpses were buried. Deeper and deeper. The earth was growing cold now; he was so deep that even the warmth of the sun couldn't penetrate...but now, all of a sudden it was getting warm, warmer still and then unbearably hot. He felt pissed-pants terrified, but it was dark and he couldn't see why. Suddenly, a clawed hand grabbed at his shoulder with an iron grip.
"No!" he gasped.
"Hey, calm down, honey. It's only me," said Diana as she continued to shake his shoulder.
"Huh?" Cary sat up and shook his head, as though to clear it. He looked around. The room was dark, but he could make out Diana's form as she sat on the edge of his bed. He was still fully clothed and he lay on top of the frilly lace bedspread in the stark guest bedroom. He wiped the sheen of cold sweat from his brow and mumbled, "Nightmare, I guess."
"Oh, you poor thing," Diana cooed, hugging him close. "It's okay now. Would you like a glass of water?"
Cary nodded. His mouth was dry and sticky with film. How long had he been asleep?
Diana got up and went into the adjacent bathroom where she filled a disposable paper cup with water from the tap and brought it back to him.
Cary took a grateful gulp, then began to choke and sputter. Vodka! His mouth burned, and his throat contracted in protest. Why in the world would Diana give him that?
Diana took the cup from his trembling hand and brought the cup to his lips. "Here," she said softly. "Drink slowly."
With no choice as the liquid touched his lips, Cary complied, and the cool water flowed into his mouth. "Water," he croaked incredulously.
"Yes," Diana crooned gently, as though speaking to a sick child. "Better now?" He nodded, and she turned on the night stand lamp. She was shocked at how horrible he looked--like Death on a bad hair day. And she'd seen him looking pretty rough after his sleepless nights. She reached out and caressed his jaw. His stubbled skin was gray and jaundiced-looking. His eyes were so bloodshot it was hard to see any white at all. His hair was lank and plastered to his skull with sweat. And he smelled. Not like sweat. Diana tried to put her finger on the lingering sweet smell that permeated the room...then she had it. Decay.
Cary shut his eyes tightly for a moment, then opened them again. "How long have I been asleep?"
"Six hours," Diana informed him. "I didn't want to wake you before now, but Mother has dinner finished and wanted you to join us."
"Of course," Cary agreed distractedly as he got off the bed. Six hours? He had taken only one sedative, had planned on lying down for just a moment, and then rejoining Diana and Marlisa.
"Those pills must be more powerful than I thought," Cary said as he made for his overnight bag. A change of clothes was definitely in order, he thought, noting his rumpled, damp attire. His loosened tie was hanging at an odd angle, as though he had been squirming and shaking his head while he slept. He vaguely recalled having a nightmare, but he couldn't remember the exact details. "Dr. O'Brien said he'd be giving me a 'mild' sedative. I thought I could take one and still function."
"I thought you said you had a headache," Dia
na replied. "I don't think a sedative would help you with that."
He couldn't tell her the reason he had taken the sedative. He shivered anew at the memory of seeing the strange dog right there in Marlisa Moon's garden. But, he didn't really see any dog, did he? "Obviously not!" he chuckled, answering his question and hers. "I've still got the headache and now I won't be able to sleep tonight."
"Well, don't think you can spend the night with me," Diana chided, anticipating his solution. "I can't do it here." She cast a glance downward, indicating her mother who was downstairs. Not only would her mother be mortified if she heard anything, but so would Diana. Even though she was a grown woman, a business owner, married and divorced, she still couldn't even contemplate such a thing as having sex under her mother's roof.
Cary understood. "Of course not. How about tomorrow in the woods? We'll bring a picnic basket and a nice big blanket."
"You're naughty...okay," Diana smiled. The color had come back to Cary's cheeks--what little had been there to begin with--and his smile seemed almost carefree. He certainly was a moody one; hopefully tomorrow would be trouble-free. "Let's start the day off with our walk in the woods, then we'll have our breakfast, maybe take a canoe ride, read, relax...doesn't that sound delicious?"
"Wonderful," Cary agreed. He was changed into fresh, clean-smelling clothes and thanks to Diana's cheerful presence, had all but forgotten about his recent nightmare. "What's for dinner?" he asked, suddenly voraciously hungry. He remembered that Marlisa was a gourmet cook--thanks to one of the many self-improvement classes she had taken to help fill her lonely existence--and had made some fantastic dinners when he had last spent a weekend.
"Chicken Cordon Bleu," Diana said. "And I helped."
"Uh-oh," Cary said jokingly.
"Hey," Diana said in mock-anger. "That's not very nice!"
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