Monarchs

by Rainey, Stephen

  "Maybe I'll go for a short one after I finish my coffee," she said. "I don't think I'm up for anything more than that."

  "That's what comes from partaking of bottles," Martha said, putting one haughty hand on her bony hip.

  "I appreciate your concern," Courtney said with an exasperated sigh, giving David a hopeful look. "I think I will go out for a quick one — if that's okay with you?"

  "Whatever you like," he said, somewhat stiffly, as if he didn't quite approve, though his expression remained pleasant. "I'm sure Jan will be up by the time you get back."

  "Well, then. I'll see you in a little while." She gave him a final smile. To Martha, she said, "It's been a pleasure meeting you. Your wisdom is inspiring."

  "It ought to be."

  Without further word, she took her cup and made her way back down the hall to her room, waiting until she was out of earshot before muttering, "'I don't appreciate sarcasm.'" Well, apparently, certain old women could find plenty where there was none, but didn't recognize it when it came. Martha was obviously not senile, nor did she appear insane; merely eccentric, as Jan had claimed. Nevertheless, the previous night's disturbance — the wailing and babbling from upstairs — still preyed on Courtney's mind, and she decided to make every effort to avoid antagonizing the woman. She was a guest here, after all, and it was not her place to judge or insult any member of Jan's family.

  Martha's admittedly excellent coffee had begun to have a revitalizing effect, so Courtney slipped out of her nightshirt, changed into a pair of shorts, a T-shirt, and running shoes, and headed out the back door, into the cool but humid morning air. She found herself on a small, concrete stoop facing the dense woods, the nearest branches of which hung so low and close to the house that she had to duck to get past them. The previous night's storm had drenched everything, and from the shadowed depths, the steady patter of water on leaves sounded like a herd of forest creatures, both great and small, marching past unseen. A thick, mossy odor permeated the air, not quite unpleasant, but nearly overpowering.

  As she rounded the side of the house on her way to the road, she picked up speed, feeling as if she were in her element again, away from the woods' uncomfortable stare. At the end of the driveway, she turned left, opting for the more familiar route toward town. Jan had told her that, to the right, the road led to only a handful of neighboring farms before dissolving into a network of rural byways, mostly unpaved, which wound into the depths of Dismal Swamp. Before her visit was over, she decided, just for curiosity's sake, she would have to go that way and explore; for the time being, however, it seemed more prudent to head toward whatever passed for civilization here.

  To her left, the woods flanked the road for as far as she could see, while to her right, fields of soybean and tobacco extended toward the western horizon until they merged with a dark, distant tree line. Occasional barns rose from the fields like crumbling citadels, and eventually she passed a few farmhouses relatively close to the road. At one of them, she spied an elderly gentleman, dressed in overalls and a checkered flannel shirt, standing on his front porch, eyeing her with a thoughtful frown as she jogged by. She sent him a curt wave, and, to her amusement, he returned it, only to duck inside with a guilty look, as if afraid he had committed some kind of heinous crime.

  He must know every person, car, and animal that ever passed this way, she thought. To him, an unfamiliar young woman running alone by his house would be quite the novelty.

  By the time she turned back, she reckoned she had gone just about a mile, and not a single car had passed in either direction. To the south, the sky had turned purple, and the breeze was picking up. Very likely, they would be in for another storm today.

  When she came to the break in the woods that revealed a corner of the old gray house in the distance, she heard the first low rumble of a vehicle on the road — coming from behind her, approaching slowly. A few moments later, a rusty, aging pickup truck with windows so dirty they appeared translucent rattled past at little more than a crawl, and she glimpsed distinct movement within — the occupants turning to eye her curiously. The truck continued moving until it reached the Blackburn house, where it pulled off to the left side of the road and stopped, its driver cutting the engine. For a moment, she thought surely someone would get out, but the doors remained closed, and she saw the vague silhouettes inside turn to watch as she steadily closed the distance.

  Her instincts whispered darkly that these new arrivals could mean trouble. As she drew nearer to the truck, she tried to make out its license plate, but a layer of caked mud obscured the numbers. Through a relatively clear patch of glass, she could see the face of the man in the passenger seat, his nose pressed against the dirty surface, his eyes glaring at her with unconcealed lust. She hadn't thought to bring pepper spray, or any such deterrent, and her eyes automatically searched the edge of the woods for sharp sticks, rocks, anything she might use to fend off the men if they attempted to assault her. She spied nothing useful.

  The eyes were still ogling her when she reached the driveway, and as she made the turn, she put on an extra burst of speed, her heart and lungs laboring with more than just exertion. Any second now, she expected to hear the truck's door creak open, a voice calling after her, or the sound of pursuing footsteps, but as she sprinted toward the house, nothing happened, and she began to breathe a little easier. Maybe she'd had nothing to fear in the first place; maybe they were just a couple of harmless local hicks who thought it would be fun to stare at the new girl in town and maybe rattle her a bit before driving off, guffawing. She paused before making the turn into the wooded backyard for a last glance at the truck, to see if the men were still peering after her.

  They were. And as she stood there, panting and dripping cold sweat, she realized with awful certainty that the grim, silent truck on the far side of the road wasn't carrying a couple of crude but fun-loving local boys. She could no longer see them, but she could feel the pair of icy gazes, cunning and calculating, like the hypnotic stare of vipers poised to strike the moment her attention wavered.

  And having seen her turn unthinkingly into the Blackburns' driveway, those men knew exactly where to find her.

  Chapter 3

  She could tell by the expression on Jan's face that her description of the pickup truck had struck a familiar, unpleasant chord.

  "They stopped right in front of the house, so I guess they counted on me coming here. Do you know who they are?"

  "Not for certain," Jan said, her face too pale for Courtney's liking. "But there are a few rednecks around here that like to cause trouble every chance they get. They're jealous of anyone with money, and they're not embarrassed to show their asses every chance they get. I doubt it's anything to worry about."

  Courtney and Jan had claimed the pair of rattan rocking chairs on the front porch, which overlooked the tree-shaded lawn, the balmy breeze having swept away the sticky humidity from earlier in the day. Distant gray clouds still threatened rain, but for now, it was a pleasant morning, and the comfortable surroundings helped ease Courtney's mind after the traumatic climax of her run. However, she couldn't escape the feeling that Jan was holding something back from her.

  "Nothing like having my first good run spoiled."

  "Maybe you can get David to go with you next time. Don't let him fool you. He's a decent runner. He'll jump at the chance, too."

  "He didn't exactly seem enthusiastic this morning."

  "He's got just enough of Aunt Martha in him to enjoy being obstinate."

  Courtney smiled thinly. She could warm to the idea of David accompanying her. For one thing, he didn't seem the kind to be easily intimidated.

  And since this morning, she found him frequently in her thoughts.

  "So, it's like that, is it?" Jan said with a smirk.

  "What? Oh." Courtney shook her head. "No, I was just thinking. Yeah, I guess I would feel better if someone came with me."

  "I'll talk to him, if you'd like."

  "Sure. That wou
ld be good." Uncertain whether to press the subject further, she said, "So, how does a woman of means occupy herself in a place like this?"

  "I actually spend a fair amount of time in Elizabeth City. I volunteer at the hospice there three days a week."

  "Oh. That must be…difficult."

  Jan nodded. "It is, but it's also very gratifying. I've met the sweetest people there. It's hard to explain, but somehow it helps me deal with Mom and Dad's deaths, even though their circumstances were very different."

  "I guess I can understand that."

  "I've taken off this week so I can be here with you. After that, though, you'll be on your own. I'm sure you can manage."

  Courtney had given little thought to the coming days and how she might occupy herself when Jan was away. The idea of being alone in the house with David — well, alone but for Aunt Martha — now seemed as intimidating as it did alluring. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to invite him to run with her, she thought. Realistically, it wouldn't do for either of them to get too interested in the other. "I'll make do," she said, a bit distracted by an agreeable image of David that seemed to have emblazoned itself on a number of her brain cells.

  Jan's eyes glinted knowingly, but after a minute, her face turned grave again. "So. Tell me about your job. What happened there?"

  At those words, Courtney felt a little twinge of anger. "At first, they claimed to be understanding. But they're one of those companies that will use any excuse to get rid of someone who's got problems. As soon as I went back to work, my boss started claiming I was making too many mistakes. 'If you can't keep your mind on your work, then maybe you'd better go,' he said. That's when I knew my number was up."

  "How long had you been there?"

  "Almost six years. Then some customer complained that his claim had been mishandled, that we had violated HIPAA regulations, which is a major deal. It wasn't even my account, but they decided that I should have been the one to follow up on it. Thus ended my illustrious career at Sterling MedHealth Services. I couldn't cut it with just Unemployment. So three months later, the bank foreclosed on the house."

  "I'm sorry. I know how hard it's been on you."

  "Maybe your aunt Martha is right. If you don't expect to be happy, you're less apt to be disappointed."

  "Martha's not right. She's just a bitter old woman."

  "So, was that actually 'singing' I heard last night, or does she have serious problems?"

  Again, Jan's face went a little pale. "Martha lives in her own world. I don't profess to understand it. Look, do me a favor. Don't interact with her any more than you need to. Try to be pleasant with her when you do. It'll make your life easier. She has her point of view, and that's all there is to it."

  "I kind of got that."

  "Seriously. If you don't cross her, you'll get on with her well enough. That's the best you can hope for."

  Courtney nodded, her eyes having turned to the distant road. For a few seconds, she thought she heard a telltale rattle beyond the trees, but nothing appeared at the far end of the driveway. She listened intently, feeling Jan's curious eyes on her but ignoring them.

  "What is it?"

  "A motor. That truck."

  "Everybody on this road has a truck. You're just sensitive to it."

  "I guess," she said, unconvinced. "But it stopped somewhere up there."

  Jan's gaze followed hers. "I didn't hear anything."

  She glanced at her friend. "You sure you don't know who those men were? If it's somebody dangerous, maybe we should let the police know."

  "Or not," Jan said with a frown of distaste. "There's only a handful of officers and the chief. And the chief is a drunk. The county sheriff is the serious law here. But it's a big county, and he's understaffed too. If there's trouble, you pretty much have to handle it yourself."

  Courtney gave her a dubious look. "You have a very different life here than I expected."

  Jan waved dismissively. "Stop worrying. It's not as if we're in a major hub for crime. We've lived here a long time, you know."

  Courtney tried to be reassured, wanted to be reassured. When she thought about it, back in Atlanta, every time she set foot on the street, she had faced a greater risk of harm than this place probably posed at its worst. At bars, on the road, even at work, she had dealt with far more egregious advances and had never suffered any lingering anxiety. But that was back in her old, familiar environment, and in these different surroundings, she felt out of place. Vulnerable.

  She realized then that the birds, which had been singing cheerful choruses in the woods, had all fallen silent, and her apprehension came rushing back.

  Even Jan now seemed pensive, her eyes studying the trees that marched toward the road at the edge of the yard. A distant crunching sound — footsteps, certainly — drifted out of the deep-shadowed woods, and Courtney's heart began to race.

  "I know what I heard," she said.

  Jan cracked a smile, but it was a mask. "Well, if you'll be more comfortable, we can go back inside."

  Courtney nodded, rose from her chair, eyes darting back toward the trees, and followed Jan into the cool, dim interior of the house. As they retreated toward the great room, a very tall, very slender black woman appeared in the hallway and gave Jan a respectful nod. "Good morning."

  "Arlene, this is my friend, Courtney. Courtney, meet Arlene Owen."

  She guessed that the housekeeper must be in her mid-forties. Her hair was long and black, entwined with a few strands of gray. Her stern but attractive features brightened as she gave Courtney a lingering look of appraisal. "Well, now. I've heard so much about you. Glad you've come to stay with us."

  "I'm glad to be here."

  "I hear they've put you back in my old room. Very comfortable, that."

  "Yes, it is, thank you."

  She leaned close to Courtney's ear, but spoke loudly. "Those two are completely lost without me. So don't expect them to take care of you. Now, look. I'm here every day till six or so. If there's anything at all you need, you just call me. Okay?"

  Courtney chuckled. "I'll do that. Thank you."

  "Arlene's the best cook in the state," Jan said. "As long as we have her, we won't go hungry."

  "I've tried to show Jan her way around the kitchen, but she can't tell the difference between fatback and chitlins," Arlene said, with a little roll of her eyes. She gave Courtney a pat on the shoulder. "Don't forget. You call me."

  "I'll do that."

  "Pleasure to meet you, Courtney."

  "And you."

  As Arlene went on her way toward the front of the house, Courtney said, "She seems very sweet. But I am not going to eat chitlins."

  Jan laughed. "Fear not. She hates chitlins. And yes, she's wonderful."

  "I thought David said she was a senior."

  "She's nearly seventy."

  "You're kidding."

  Jan shook her head. "She's a strong woman. Been through a lot in her life. And she's very loyal."

  Somehow, the way Jan said "loyal" seemed to ring with resentment, and Courtney gave her friend a questioning glance. But Jan remained oblivious as she led the way to the great room, where she surprised Courtney by going to the window and peering out at the northern expanse of yard and the dense woodland beyond.

  "You heard it too, didn't you?"

  "I heard something moving in the woods. Probably just an animal."

  "What if it's not?"

  "It was."

  "Then what are you looking for?"

  Jan turned away from the window and gave a little shrug. "I don't know. Nothing, I guess. You've about got me spooked in my own house, you wretched thing."

  "That reminds me. Would you by chance have any extra curtains for the back room? I feel kind of exposed back there."

  Jan opened her mouth in a silent "Oh," as if she had just remembered something important. "Damn. I meant to do that for you. Arlene had some nice ones that she made herself, but she took them with her to the cottage. I didn't think to
hang any new ones for you. I'll take care of it."

  "Thanks. I'd be more comfortable."

  "I don't blame you. You never know when David might be prowling around looking to spy on you."

  "It's not David I'm worried about," she said, but then wished she hadn't when Jan huffed noisily and threw her a distinctly annoyed glare.

  "Just wait here, my paranoid princess. I'll go see what I can find."

  The curtains were a little too short and didn't pull together fully, but they were better than nothing. Thankfully, Jan's annoyance with her had passed quickly, and she had gabbed cheerfully while they hung the slightly yellowed sheets of fabric on rusty old rods over the windows. Jan left, smiling, saying that they would plan on going out for dinner in the evening. Still, despite the return of her friend's good spirits, more and more Courtney felt certain that Jan was concealing something from her — something darker, more invidious, than just lingering grief. Courtney could understand grief; my God, no one could understand it better.

  For a few moments, she entertained the disagreeable notion that Jan's motive for inviting her here might involve something other than helping her recover from her own life's ruin. If that were true, then it was a kind of betrayal, for in their long friendship, they had shared so much, always with total honesty.

  At least, she had always believed so.

  No. For God's sake, this was just her own wounded psyche conjuring up sinister intentions where none existed.

  Anyway, what possible ulterior motive could Jan have?

  She heard a shuffle behind her and looked around to see David standing in the doorway, his smile a tad less wry than usual. "I understand you're accepting applications for a running partner."

  "I might be."

  Too late to back out now — not that she would have changed her mind.

  "I hear you had a bit of a fright this morning."

  "It was unnerving, yes."