by Ash, Lauren
“Down the end there.” The nurse half pointed, too busy for courtesies.
“This place,” Jenny mumbled.
The water fountain smelled of copper, and there was a disgusting glob of something to the side. The sight of it made her slightly queasy. I can’t drink this.
She went back and sat down.
“So horrible. So, so horrible. Don’t ever stick me in a place like this, Kip. Please don’t do that to me. Just leave me be at home. I’d rather just rot away there.”
Kip was too preoccupied with her new pink doll to pay attention to Jenny’s anxious words.
Deep breath in.
The same nurse passed, having finished her pill delivery.
“Excuse me.” Jenny called. “Do you know what’s taking so long? I’ve been here almost fifteen minutes now.”
“I can go in and check for you quickly,” she replied, sounding uptight.
A foul stench of human excrement wafted out as she opened the door.
“I can’t do this.” Jenny ran past the small, circular nurses’ station to the exit.
“Leaving so soon?” It was Marilynn, wearing a yellow dress this time.
“I have to go.”
“But you just got here.”
“I’ve been waiting too long.”
“How about some tea?”
“Tea?” It was the last thing Jenny had been expecting.
“Chamomile?”
“Eh ... sure. Sure. I’ll do that.”
“Go back and sit. I’ll bring it to you.”
The warm tea soothed her nerves a bit, and soon an elderly Hispanic nurse came out of the room. “She’s all cleaned up,” he said. “You may go in now.”
The odor was barely masked by a pungent floral spray, but it was better than nothing. Gerry lay flat on her back, her just-brushed white hair plastered to the pillow. The sound of an evening game show filled the room and the glare from the TV illuminated her face. She looked almost happy.
“Gerry, it’s me—Jenny. We met before?”
Gerry didn’t respond. She was mesmerized by the colors, the cheers, and the clapping. Kip clung to her mother’s side.
“It’s okay, honey. Go sit over there.”
Kip climbed onto the rickety chair in the corner and played with her doll.
Jenny approached the bedside. The rails were up. “What are you watching? I like game shows too.”
Gerry didn’t even blink.
How can you not blink? Jenny walked about the room and picked up a silver-framed photograph on the side dresser. It was a picture of Gerry with her late husband—the jetty behind them.
“You miss the beach house?” she asked.
“Yes,” Gerry answered, suddenly aware. “I do.”
Shocked, Jenny set the picture back down.
“I ... I meant to ask you,” Jenny said, sitting again. “Ron and I, we like the house too. We’re thinking of buying it off you. Do you know that? Did Rachael tell you?”
Gerry nodded.
“But I’m not sure,” Jenny continued. “I found these journals. They have all this crazy stuff. Something about an intruder, or a ghost maybe. I found them in the basement. There was a locked chest in there. I wondered...”
Gerry opened her mouth wide and lifted a shaking hand, pointing towards her dresser. “Kay.”
“Kay?” Jenny had no idea.
“Kay … Kay!”
The dresser had three small drawers along the top. Jenny opened each one, sifted through papers, hairbrushes, and crappy knick-knacks.
“Kay. Kay!” Gerry’s volume increased.
“It’s okay. Calm down. I’m looking.”
Jenny pulled the drawers out and dumped the contents on top of the dresser. A single key bounced off and hit the ground. Gerry pointed to it.
“Key! I get it,” said Jenny, picking it up and carrying it over to the bed.
“Yours.” Gerry smiled and pressed it into her hand, closing Jenny’s fingers around it.
“What is it for?”
“W-w-will,” the old lady stammered. “No Rachael.” She coughed up a glob of sputum and licked it off her lip.
Jenny winced. “Is it for the house?” she asked, examining the key.
“Mmmm. Hex,” Gerry murmured, putting one hand up to shield her eyes from light streaming through the windows. “Will.”
Jenny moved to the window to pull shut the peach-colored printed curtains.
“No way. No way!” She gasped, quickly pulled the curtains shut, and put her hand to her forehead. After a deep breath, she cracked the curtain open again. It was hard to see; the sun was setting. Still, she was sure she could make out a tall figure wearing a long black trench coat and high-topped black boots. He was looking in her SUV window. His hood was up and his hands were barely touching the glass.
“Oh no, it’s him. Oh no.” Jenny started pacing.
Gerry’s eyes lost their spark again. She started squirming in the bed, yanking her arms against her restraints and moaning. The bed shook as she tried, harder and harder, to free her arms.
“Don’t you start now.” What a nightmare. I’m stuck in a nightmare. Jenny checked the window again. He was still standing there.
Gerry started up a distorted howling as the game show music intensified once again.
Kip stopped playing.
“Honey, turn the other ... don’t watch. Just turn. Nana is upset.”
“Mamma.” Kip curled into a ball.
“What is it, Gerry?” Jenny pulled up the old woman’s blankets.
The violent shaking continued, and Gerry pushed the blankets back down.
“What is it?”
Gerry looked right at her, her eyes wide, mouth open, wrinkled skin stretched to the maximum.
“Is it the TV? Do you not like this show anymore? Do you want me to change the channel?”
There was no remote that Jenny could see, so she stood on tiptoes to switch the channel to a quieter nature show—a lioness with her cubs. “Better?”
Gerry’s resistance slowed, but she kept up the God-awful sound.
“Shhhh, it’s okay. Calm down.” Jenny patted her greasy white hair. “There, there. You’re not alone. I’m right here.”
Gerry stopped, soothed, and went back to staring, this time at the wall.
“Dinner time.” The nurse opened the door and pulled Gerry’s rickety beside table over to her, setting the tray down on it. It was a colorful assortment of mush. “Would you like to feed her?” he asked turning his attention to the mess. “What’s going on here?”
“Um … she wanted something. I don’t think I understand her very well.”
“It’s fine. That’s the usual, okay. Do you want to feed her?”
“Ah, no thanks.” Jenny shook her head.
“You sure?” he asked again, as if he already expected her answer.
“No. No, I think I’ll step out for a bit while you do that.”
“You can certainly stay.” He smiled.
“Yeah … uh. I’ll be back. I have something I need to do anyway, just a minute.” She slipped the key into her coat pocket.
It was more than a minute. Jenny watched from behind the waiting room blinds as the man leaned up against her car and attempted to light a cigarette.
“Oh, come on. What are you doing?” She focused on the boots. I know it’s him. What do I do? I’m stuck here.
She opened her purse, reassured by the gleam of Kurt’s revolver and suddenly very glad she’d taken it. She ran her fingers over it. It was cold, smooth; she didn’t have the slightest clue how to fire it. Lifting it out, she carefully stroked the trigger.
“Mamma, what’s that?”
“Nothing.” Jenny slipped the gun back in her purse. “Just sit, okay. Here, here’s a magazine with pretty flowers inside. See the pretty flowers.”
“Pretty pink,” said Kip.
“Yeah, pretty.” Jenny tipped the blind again. The man was gone.
Heavy foots
teps sounded outside the waiting room.
Jenny lifted Kip off the peach chair and slunk down into a corner, covering her daughter’s mouth with one hand. The heavy steps stopped by the waiting room door. Then they continued on.
“Did you have a good visit?” Marilynn called out, as Jenny hurried by.
“I did. Got to go, though.”
“Wait! I have to talk to you about something.”
Jenny paused by the front door. “Not now. I have to go.”
“It’ll be quick, I swear.”
“Quick.”
“It’s about the power of attorney.”
“Yeah.” Jenny’s eyes were fixed on the end of the long beige corridor.
“Rachael called and stated that she does not want Ron to have any contact with Gerry.”
“Yes, I know. He told me. It’s fine. Really, I have to go.”
“There’s also a letter here. It’s for you.”
The tall, dark figure appeared at the end of the hall again.
“I really must go now.” Jenny snatched the letter from Marilynn’s shaky grip, crammed it into her purse, and dashed out the door, pulling Kip behind her.
Jenny fumbled with the button on the key fob, pressing it over and over. “Come on. Come on!” It beeped. “In the car, hurry. I don’t have time to buckle you. Come on.”
She fumbled the key into the ignition and turned on the car. As she backed out, tires screeching, she could see the hooded man standing at the front of the retirement home. He followed, falling behind when Jenny put the pedal to the metal.
Now what? Now where do I go? He’ll follow us to the beach house. I can’t go back there. She racked her brain. Kurt? No. I can’t go there either. What if it’s him? I don’t know for sure. No … it’s not him. It couldn’t be him.
She stopped in front of the tackle shop. The lights were off.
Maybe it is him?
There were few cars on the strip as Jenny drove up and down, over and over. Eventually, she settled on a small diner close to the main beach access road.
“Come, we need to eat.”
It was quiet in the diner, and Jenny slid into a green leather booth and ordered up a small feast. They ate happily and sipped hot chocolates.
“Mmm,” said Kip.
“It’s good, isn’t it?” Jenny smiled, content for a moment.
Then curiosity crept up on her as she remembered the letter. She ferreted in her purse and pulled it out. It had been mailed the day before—specially over-nighted. As she ripped it open, a note tumbled out.
Dearest Jenny,
I know you are there, alone. I know that he left you there. You must leave. I must warn you. He will never stop, never. You see, it’s his house. It’s always been his house.
Rachael
EIGHT
“Aw, you didn’t. You didn’t. You took my gun? I knew I should have locked it up.”
Kurt slammed the drawer shut, but it immediately sprang back open. He rummaged through a few more, shoving this and that out of the way. Good thing there are no bullets in it. I can’t believe this! My gun—what the hell is she going to do with my gun?
He pulled on his heavy coat and continued searching the shop for his keys.
* * *
Whose house—the beach house? What is she talking about? The handwriting was different from the journals. Something was off. Jenny dialed her mother-in-law’s number.
“Hello.” The voice sounded tired.
“Rachael? It’s Jenny.”
“Hi.” Rachael immediately sounded annoyed.
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
“I knew it.”
“What?” Jenny asked.
“He’s been in my mother’s ear.”
“What are talking about?”
“Ron! He wants the house. He doesn’t want to pay for it. I knew it. She told me about the will.”
“I really don’t know what you’re talking about. I think there’s been a misunderstanding here.”
Rachael raised her tone. “I don’t think so, and he can’t see her anymore.”
“Gerry? Ron has never done such a thing, okay. We were going to buy the house from you.”
“I need that money. I need it.” Rachael’s tone was fraught. “The shop isn’t doing well, okay. I didn’t want to tell you.”
“You have money trouble? He wouldn’t do that to you, Rachael. You know him.”
Rachael paused. “I don’t get it then.”
“Get what?”
“Maybe she was lying.”
“Who? Gerry?”
“Yes. She said she changed her will.”
“She can barely speak. She’s not in her right mind.”
“Sometimes she is. She said, ‘No will, no you’ to me on the phone. She repeated it over and over and over.”
“She’s confused. I just saw her. I don’t think you could be certain of anything with Gerry. I don’t see why you would just jump to conclusions like that. Ron just wanted to see his Nana. You know she’s not well. She has no teeth!”
“I’m sorry. I’m a wreck. I’m sorry...” Rachael’s words trailed off.
“Hello?” Jenny repeated several times into the sudden silence.
“I’m here.”
“By the way, I got your letter.”
“What letter?’
“The one you sent to the home,” Jenny said, wondering why she always found Ron’s Mom so exasperating.
“I didn’t send any letter.”
“These are not your words then?” Jenny read it out to her quietly, so the other occupants of the restaurant couldn’t hear.
“Oh no,” said Rachael. “It’s him.”
“Who?” Jenny ran one hand through her hair. Great!
“The stalker.”
“The one from your journals?”
“Journals? What journals?”
“I found journals in the basement, and trinkets, a ring, and pearls.” She looked at the ruby ring that still adorned her finger. Shit, she thought, twisting it. I meant to get that off.
“They’re not mine,” Rachael said. “There’s a lot of old junk out there in the basement. The previous owners left in a hurry. They left a lot of stuff out there in storage. Gerry got it all when she bought the house. I don’t think Mom and Dad ever got around to going through and throwing it out.”
“Ron told me Gerry built the house.”
“No, she didn’t. She bought it almost new. My mother wanted to build a house on the coast—that was the plan, but when they found the beach house, she fell in love with it. Ron has mixed up the story somehow, or Mom told him some story in her confusion. When she became ill, we moved her into the home. I wasn’t there long in that house. There’s something kind of creepy about it. My main focus was on getting it ready to sell. No point keeping a big house like that with no one using it. But it needed some renovations...” she paused. “I started to do it, but ... I had to drop the project.”
“The renovations? Why?”
Rachael sighed down the line. “I stopped and left when I was attacked.”
“Attacked?” Jenny shivered.
“Yes. I wanted to tell you, but I also wanted to sell the house—needed to, to pay off some of the shop’s debts. I thought he was gone. But if he isn’t, you need to get the hell out of there. You need to leave—now. He won’t quit. He’s coming.”
“Who?”
“I never knew, okay. Sometimes it feels like a nightmare, just a dream. But I didn’t stay to found out. I left. I haven’t been back since.”
“You never told anyone?”
“God … I couldn’t tell anyone. You don’t understand.”
“Why not? Why not call the police?”
Rachael hesitated again. “Because ... I ... I thought I killed him, okay! He attacked me on night and I sprayed him with oven spray, self defense. He passed out. Jesus Christ. I dragged him out to the ocean and I put him in the surf. Until now, I thought he was dead.”
“Leave, okay. Just leave.”
* * *
The key was small and tarnished. She turned it over in her hand, wondering what in the house it could belong to—nothing came to her.
“I’ve got to go back. Got to get Charlie.” Jenny stuck the key back in her purse.
“Sleep.” Kip slumped back in the diner booth.
It was almost nine. She looked at the tousled head, snuggled against the green leather, and thought, how can I do it? How I can take her back there? Guilt swamped her.
“What are you doing here?”
“Kurt, hi. It’s late. We have to go.” Jenny wrote out a check and left it on top of the bill, stuffing some dollars for a tip in on top of it.
“But I just got here. Didn’t feel like cooking.”
His timing was bad, very bad. “I know.” She stood.
“What is it? What’s wrong? Something’s up. I can tell.” He motioned for her to sit.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re acting funny.”
“No I’m not.” Jenny put a palm up, and then bit her lip. “I’m just tired that’s all. It’s late.”
“You sure?”
“Yes,” she insisted, staring at his feet—at the big black boots on his feet.
“Okay then. You can always stay with me.”
“Why would you say that?” Jenny faced him squarely.
“What do you mean?” asked Kurt, putting out a hand to her.
“That’s a strange thing to say, especially…”
“What? You know … stop right there.” His tone grew firm. “All I have done is help you—ever since you arrived in this town. Don’t get mad at me, not after everything.”
The diner wait staff swiveled their heads to stare at them.
“I need to go, okay. I can’t talk to you about this.” She took a step toward the door.
“I knew it. There’s something going on. Tell me.” Kurt plonked down in the booth, patting the leather beside him.
“No. I’m going home now, back to the beach house.”
“You can’t. You have something of mine.”
“What?”
He cocked an eyebrow. “You know damn well what.”
“I have nothing of yours.” She took another step, watching Kip yawn.
