When Houses Burn

by Laurèn Lee

  Oh, my God. The baby!

  The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind. The moment the statue smashed down on Helena, the moment her life ended was also the very same moment her child would’ve died. Helena’s child was dead. James’ child was dead. He’d never become a father, after all. I felt sick to my stomach. To end a child’s life was the evilest act one could ever commit. I don’t know how I could ever forgive myself. What had I done? What had Lucas done? Was I really that selfish and out of touch with reality to think this was for the best? To think our actions would have no consequences. A child lost their life today. A child lost their mother. A child would never be born.

  I stayed in the shower until the water scalded my skin and burned me. I invited the pain, though. I deserved it. It was easy to look James in the face knowing his mistress was dead, but now how could I face him knowing I had a hand in killing his child. It was always me ending the life of his children. I couldn’t carry our child to term, and his child with Helena would never be born.

  “Delilah, dinner's almost ready!” James called from our bedroom.

  “I’ll be out in a minute,” I responded.

  I stepped out of the shower, grabbed a towel, and dried off. I looked at myself in the mirror and Delilah didn’t stare back. Instead, I looked into the eyes of a complicit cold-blooded killer.

  40

  Present

  Over dinner, James and I didn’t talk very much. We discussed bland topics such as the weather, the stocks, and a psychiatric conference I hoped to attend in the fall. He lightly touched on a few new projects his company was working on. James would be the lead on a new business development project on Main Street.

  “That sounds exciting. What types of stores are you hoping to rent to once it’s built?”

  “A few boutiques, a coffee shop, maybe an organic market. Things like that. By the way, this roast is delicious.”

  “Well, I had an experienced sous chef to help me.”

  We opened our second bottle of wine, but talking points dwindled. We finished the remainder of our meals in silence. I noticed James kept checking his phone, presumably waiting for Helena to return his calls and text messages. Little did he know, he would never hear from her again. I tried to ignore his persistence, but his anxiety only heightened mine.

  “James,” I said sternly.

  “I’m sorry, I’m still worried.”

  “You know, I don’t ever think I’ve seen you this nervous. You never acted like this if I went a few hours without speaking to you.”

  “She’s pregnant with my child, Delilah.”

  “I was pregnant with your child a few times, too,” I said sourly.

  “Well, it’s not like we knew it would be a successful pregnancy.”

  “Oh,” I said.

  “I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant that you could take care of yourself.”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  Standing, I went to the sink and began rinsed my dishes. My chest ached with pain and regret. If I had carried one of our many children to term, our life wouldn’t be like this. We wouldn’t be living this story. They say, “Everything happens for a reason,” but what is the reason for this? Why has fate brought us here, to this place filled with doubt, misery, and unhappiness?

  “I’m going to run out for some more wine. It looks like we finished the last bottle.”

  “Sure, yeah. Why don’t you grab some money from my wallet? You’ve bought the past few bottles.”

  I nodded thanks and went to James’ wallet on the table by the door. The black leather wallet had been a gift I’d given him for his birthday several years ago. It had begun to look tattered and weathered, but he still carried it nonetheless.

  I opened the wallet, and a small photograph fell out. It was a sonogram photo of a baby girl. The back read, “Female: 8 weeks.” I looked at the photo and back to James who was still sitting at the kitchen table, his head in his hands. James would’ve had a baby girl. He would’ve loved having a girl. When I’d been pregnant with Lola, he told me he was happy we were having a girl. He’d spoil her like there was no tomorrow. He’d love and protect her. He’d keep her safe. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, he wouldn’t have to worry about keeping this girl safe, she was already gone.

  “I’ll be back,” I said.

  James grunted as he checked his phone again.

  We had one twenty-four hour liquor store in our area, and it happened to be only ten minutes away from our house. I entered the store and assumed I’d be the only person inside; it was after eleven.

  I browsed down the aisles, wondering what I was in the mood for tonight. I hadn’t had a nice Zinfandel in a while. However, it had always managed to give me the worst hangovers. Maybe a nice dry red? Or, a foreign Chardonnay?

  “Can I help you find something, Miss?”

  I spun around, not seeing anyone behind me. I looked around in every direction but didn’t see another soul.

  “Pssssttt,” it was the same voice again.

  Just then, a bottle from the wine rack I was facing pulled away, leaving a gap for me to peer into the next aisle over. The gorgeous smile greeting me belonged to none other than Lucas.

  “Act normal,” he whispered.

  “What are you doing here? How did you know I was here?” I asked pretending to read the label of the wine bottle in my hands.

  “I followed you here,” he admitted.

  “You followed me?”

  “Yes, I wanted to see you.”

  “What happened earlier? Did everything go okay?”

  “Let’s not talk here. We should go somewhere.”

  “Where? I promised James I was only going out for some wine and I’d be home right after.”

  “When does he usually go to bed?”

  “James? Well, he usually passes out drunk around midnight.”

  “Perfect, I’ll be there.”

  “Wait —” Before I could protest, Lucas vanished, only leaving the bell ringing above the door to signal his exit. I grabbed a handful of bottles, not even knowing exactly what I’d picked up and went to pay at the counter.

  Soon, James would be asleep, and I’d be inviting Lucas into our home.

  41

  Present

  By the time I got home, James had already begun to dabble in the hard liquor. Apparently, he couldn't wait for more wine. He slumped over his glass like a barfly waiting for closing time.

  “James?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “Why don’t you go to bed? You look exhausted.”

  “I am exhausted,” he admitted.

  “Come on, let me help you upstairs.” I walked toward him, and he flinched.

  “Why would you want to help me?” he slurred.

  “Because despite everything going on right now, you’re still my husband and you need some sleep. Tomorrow, if you don’t hear back from Helena, I’ll help you look for her. Okay?”

  “You will?” he asked incredulously.

  “Yes, I promise.”

  “Okay, I’ll go to bed,” he resigned.

  He tried to scooch off the kitchen chair and stand, but he swayed like a feather in the wind, ready to blow away within seconds.

  “Here, put your arm around my shoulders,” I suggested. He weighed more than I remembered. In fact, the last time I helped James to bed had been our wedding night. I only had a few glasses of champagne at dinner, but James drank enough for the both of us to be drunk.

  “Why are you acting so nice?” he asked. “This isn’t like you.”

  “I know it may be hard to believe, but I still care about you, James. I never wanted for us to fall apart so easily. I thought we were made of steel,” I admitted, trying to steer him up the stairs.

  It’s funny how we imagine our life may appear. It’s funny how we think we have everything figured out. It’s only until our relationship is put to the test that we may know if we have the strength to carry on. I thought James and I would be strong enough to en
dure even the most violent of storms. It seems as though we aren’t capable of weathering this one.

  I helped ease James into bed and brought him a glass of water. I laid out two aspirin on the same nightstand for him to take when he became a little more aware of his surroundings.

  “Goodnight, James,” I whispered.

  “I love you, Delilah. No matter what, please remember how much I love you.”

  “I love you, too. Get some sleep, okay?”

  “Okay,” he managed to say before he drifted off to sleep.

  Electricity shot through my veins; I’d done it. I managed to take care of James easier than I’d hoped. Lucas should be here soon. I dashed into the bathroom, tousled my hair, and sprayed a spritz of perfume on my neck. Butterflies coursed through my stomach as though I prepared for a first date as a teenager. Lucas had that effect on me. I couldn’t help it.

  A light tap shook me out of my concentration in front of the mirror, and I went back into the bedroom to see what the commotion was. James slept like a baby, a puddle of drool forming on his pillow. I stepped purposefully hard on the floor to see if he would notice. No, he was sound asleep.

  I wanted to run down the stairs, slide down the banister, anything to reach Lucas sooner. Instead, I walked down the stairs, trying to appear as calm as I could be. Opening the door, I turned on the light to the garage and crept to its door, ready to let Lucas into my home.

  “Is he asleep?” Lucas asked, carefully closing the garage door behind him.

  “Yes, but we should still try to be careful, just in case he wakes up.”

  Lucas smirked, “Nervous to have me in your house?”

  “Yes, if I’m being honest.”

  “You’re always honest, Delilah. Aren’t you?”

  “I try to be,” I said.

  Lucas opened the door to the main house all on his own, I followed him in, which seemed to become a common trend in our companionship.

  “So, this is where Dr. Delilah Hedley lives, huh?”

  “This is it.”

  “I suspected something, well, different.”

  “What did you expect?”

  “I don’t see any signs that you live here if I’m to be honest, too.”

  “What do you mean?” I chortled.

  “It’s decorated as though only a man lives here. It’s homey, but not personal.”

  “James built it,” I admitted. “I didn’t do much of the decorating. I was in med school when James’ company finished the construction.”

  “You should come live with me. I’d let you decorate however you’d see fit,” Lucas said, examining the photographs on the wall in the living room.

  “Well, if I ever find myself in need of a place to stay, I’ll remember that. Now, can you please tell me how everything went this afternoon? Did anyone see you? Is my office tidied up?”

  “Woah. Slow down, Delilah. Everything went fine. Maybe you should offer me a drink first. It would be what a good host would do.”

  I huffed and puffed. I’d waited long enough to know how Lucas handled Helena’s body. “Sure, what would you like?” I asked through gritted teeth.

  “I’ll have whatever you’re having, maybe a glass of wine from a bottle you purchased at the store?”

  “Fine. I have red open; will this suit you?”

  “Sure.”

  I poured us each a glass, waiting for him to divulge all the details I so desperately desired. After a few minutes, I finally broke the silence, “Well?”

  “I cleaned your office thoroughly. There’s no way you’d be implicated. As far as the body, well, I laid her to rest in the river. The water and sea life will take care of any damning evidence.”

  “How… How did you dump her?” I cringed at the language.

  “With a garbage bag, ah, don’t worry. I didn’t use a garbage bag from your office. Don’t worry. This isn’t my first rodeo.”

  “I’m not sure if that comes as a relief, or, if it should terrify me.”

  “Does it scare you to know I may have killed more people than you already know of?”

  I looked at him deeply, trying to see through him, trying to understand him. “It doesn’t scare me. It intrigues me.”

  “Always wanting to study your patients, I suspect?”

  “Something like that,” I answered. “Hey, Lucas?”

  “Yes?” he asked, sipping on his wine.

  “Do you think you’ll ever kill again?”

  “Yes,” he said matter-of-factly.

  “You will?” I tried to hide my surprise.

  “It’s who I am, Delilah. I thought you would’ve figured that out by now.”

  “Don’t you ever feel guilty? Feel remorse?”

  “No. I don’t think I’m capable of feeling such universal emotions. Killing comes easily to me. I’m not afraid of who I am. Are you afraid of who you’ve become?”

  “I don’t think I’ve changed,” I lied.

  “Oh, but you have. Even I’ve noticed. When I first met you, you seemed shy, hesitant, and fretful. Now, you are more empowered. You are strong, you are brave.” He drained his glass.

  “I don’t feel any braver,” I said.

  “You are. You’ll just have to take my word for it if you don’t believe me.” Lucas stood from the couch and stepped across the living room floor until he stood at my feet, on our chair beside the television. He kneeled down, ensuring we stood at eye level with each other.

  “You’re beautiful, Delilah.” He cupped my face in his hands, sending shivers all down my body.

  “You’re transforming before my eyes and I want to see you bloom.” He pulled me closer until I was inches from being lifted off the chair altogether. “We never got to finish what we started yesterday, you know, in your office.”

  “I know,” I stammered.

  “Would you like to finish what we started, Delilah?”

  I nodded my head as words escaped me. Within a moment, Lucas lifted me off the chair and pulled me close to him. I tried not to squeal in delight as he carried me over to the kitchen counter. He set me down, and I wrapped my legs around his waist as I had done before. We pulled our shirts off, and I was left with nothing but my bra on top while his sculpted abdomen teased me.

  “No interruptions this time,” he panted.

  “No interruptions,” I agreed.

  I’d dreamt about this moment ever since Lucas walked into my office. I dreamt of how he’d feel inside of me. I dreamt of the ecstasy. I wanted him more than anything in the entire world. He pulled my jeans down as my head rolled back and he kissed my neck. James had never instilled such passion, such lust within me. No one had, until Lucas.

  Not wanting to wait to take off my panties, Lucas ripped them off and threw them hastily behind us. Part of me wanted to stop him to listen if James had stirred, but the other part of me didn’t care if he caught us. I didn’t care about anything at this moment. I only cared about Lucas.

  He slipped inside me causing audible euphoria to escape from my lips. He went in deeper and deeper with every thrust. Flashes of Lucas setting his house on fire ran across my mind. The image of him hitting Helena with the statue, killing her, popped up as well. None of it mattered. None of it scared me. I was fearless.

  Within minutes, I’d climaxed, and it didn’t take long for Lucas to follow suit. We held onto each other for what felt like hours, him still holding me on the countertop.

  It was a release like I’d never felt before and even though it had just ended, I couldn’t wait for it to begin again.

  42

  Present

  Lucas and I redressed in silence. Although, the smirk on his face spoke for both of us. I’d never crossed any lines professionally with a patient, but with Lucas, I crossed every single one of them.

  “That was fun. Can we do it again, sometime?”.

  I smiled sheepishly.

  “I think I will need an emergency therapy session on Monday, Doctor. I just had an affair with a married w
oman, and I’ll need to discuss it,” he said, eyes dazzling.

  “I think I can squeeze you in.”

  Lucas pulled me in close, and he smelled sweet and succulent. Damn, even when he was sweaty, he still smelled like a god.

  “Are you going to be okay tonight?”

  “I’ll be fine. Probably sleep on the couch or in the guest room. I don’t want to disturb James.”

  “No, Delilah. I think you should sleep in your bed with your husband.”

  “Why?” I asked pushing Lucas away slightly.

  “We don’t want him to suspect anything. If you sleep on the couch or in the guest bedroom, he may be suspicious.”

  “I don’t think he’d notice, to be honest,” I trailed off. “He’s too worried about Helena.”

  Lucas raised his eyebrows.

  “He was whining all night about not getting a hold of her. I promised him if he hadn’t heard from her by the morning, I’d go with him to look for her,” I rolled my eyes.

  “Looks like it will be a fruitless endeavor.”

  “Yeah, I suppose so.”

  We lingered awkwardly by the door. Would he kiss me goodnight? Should I kiss him first? Why did I feel like a teenage girl on her first date again?

  “Well, I guess I should be going,” he said.

  “Yes, it’s late.”

  Still waiting.

  Lucas smiled and pulled me into a warm embrace and kissed my forehead, “Everything will work out okay. I promise, Delilah.”

  I looked up into his sparkling eyes, and I couldn’t help but believe him. He could’ve told me the world would end tomorrow and I’d take him at his word. I could be falling for a shameless psychopath hell bent on manipulating me, and despite all my knowledge of the human brain, and the consequences of mental disorders, I didn’t mind sliding into his trap.