by Brenda Novak
“I think we should get a monitor,” she said, trying to return to the spirit of their planning. “It would come in handy if the baby was napping and we were out in the garden or the garage.”
“Monitors are expensive,” Faith replied from the counter, where she was making her tea.
Hope shrugged. “Only thirty or forty bucks.”
“That’s expensive.”
“It’s affordable, Faith.” Hope put down her pen to rub her eyes. It was nearly eleven and she was ready to head back to bed. “We’re not trying to support an army. Just the three of us,” she went on, taking up her pen again. “We’ll get by. So stop talking about the expense of everything. It’ll only make you feel indebted, and I don’t want that. You’d help me if I needed it, wouldn’t you?”
The insecure expression clouding her sister’s face disappeared. “Of course.”
The kettle began to whistle. Faith lifted it off the stove. Hope had tried to show her how to use the microwave, but evidently, she wasn’t quite ready to make the transition to the electronic age. They’d grown up in a house built in 1910, without a dishwasher or a microwave.
The telephone rang as soon as Faith poured her tea. Hope wondered who might be calling so late, but nodded for Faith, who was closer, to pick it up.
“Hello?”
Hope continued to study her list. If they were careful, they could possibly purchase a crib at a secondhand store or a garage sale. They might even be able to find a—
“Who is this?” A shaky quality filtered through Faith’s voice, causing Hope to glance up—and notice that the color was quickly draining from her sister’s face.
“Is this Sarah?” Faith said. “Sarah, what’s wrong?”
Hope shoved away from the table to round the counter. “What is it?”
Faith ignored her. “Are you hurt, honey? Sarah, is it you?” Suddenly she dropped the receiver onto the counter.
“What happened?” Hope asked.
Faith rubbed her arms as if she was cold. “Someone was crying.”
“Was it Sarah? What did she say?”
“Nothing. It sounded like a little girl, but…but I think Arvin was there, too.” She stared at the phone as though it had turned into a snake. “I think he was hurting Sarah,” she said, her words coming out in a terrified rush.
“Is Sarah Charlene’s daughter? The one you mentioned before?”
Faith nodded. “She…she has a harelip. She doesn’t really fit in and Arvin’s never been very good to her. But she has the sweetest disposition and…” Faith pressed a fist to her lips.
“Whoever that child was could’ve been crying for any reason,” Hope said. “She could have been crying for a drink of water, Faith. You don’t know she was being hurt.”
“But Arvin’s capable of hurting children. I know he’d hurt Sarah if he thought it would bring me home.”
Hope slipped her arm around Faith. She wouldn’t put it past Arvin to hurt a child, either. But she and Faith weren’t exactly in a position to do anything about it. They couldn’t give in and go back, because then he really would have all the power. “The whole thing was probably a hoax, Arvin’s attempt to manipulate you into coming back,” she said, trying to comfort her.
Faith remained stiff and unyielding. “What was I thinking?” she asked. “He’ll never let me leave. He’ll hurt the people I love.”
“No,” Hope insisted. “Sarah’s probably fine. Most likely she’s in bed asleep and that was some other child. It could even have been a crank call.”
“I d-don’t think so.”
“If it was Sarah, then Jed…er, our father, will take care of her. He wouldn’t let Arvin hurt anyone. In Superior, there are some lines even men can’t cross, right?”
“Not many,” Faith whispered. “And how would Daddy know?” Her fearful eyes were riveted on Hope’s. “It’s all about secrets, isn’t it? The kind we’re taught to keep everyday.”
The phone began to beep from being left off the hook, but Hope refused to place it back on its cradle. She wouldn’t allow Arvin the chance to harass them any more tonight. He’d done enough damage.
“What should I do?” Faith asked.
“Nothing,” Hope said. “There’s nothing you can do. At least we can still get hold of Mama. I wasn’t sure of that until you called home.” Not all households in Superior had phones. Many members of the Everlasting Apostolic Church didn’t have sufficient credit to convince the telephone company they’d pay the bill. But some of the more powerful Brethren managed to get one, usually by putting the account in the name of one of their children. When Hope was still living at home, having a phone had been something of a status symbol.
“Daddy had the phone company install one at Sister Helena’s house and tried to take Mama’s out. But Mama wouldn’t hear of it. It’s the only time I’ve ever seen her fight him on anything.”
“And he gave in? Why was having a phone so important to her? She doesn’t care about impressing people.”
“Are you kidding?”
“About what?”
“I think she’s been waiting for you to call. Getting rid of the phone meant you never would.”
Faith’s words hit Hope like a hard-packed snowball to the chest. She’d wanted to call so many times, most of all when she delivered her baby….
But she couldn’t think about the hurts that refused to heal. She couldn’t let them stop her, especially now. She had Faith to consider. For the baby’s sake, if for no other reason, she couldn’t let Arvin coerce her sister into coming back to him.
“We’ll call Mama in the morning and tell her what we heard,” she said. “She’ll do what she can. Maybe we’ll contact Jed, too.” Hope cringed at the thought of that, but she’d do anything to protect an innocent child.
Faith took a deep breath and visibly pulled herself together. “See what I’ve brought you? Nothing but trouble.”
“Arvin’s the one who’s causing all the trouble.”
Her sister didn’t respond.
“Faith? It’s not you. It’s Arvin. And he’s just trying to scare you. You can’t let him, or he wins.”
“Is that what you really think?”
“It is.”
“Okay.”
Hope squeezed her sister’s shoulder. “That’s the spirit. Sarah’s fine.”
“I hope so.”
“We’ll call and check on her in the morning.”
“That would help.”
Hope retrieved Faith’s tea and handed it to her. “You going to be all right?”
Faith took one sip, then put the cup down. “Yeah, but I’m pretty tired. I think I’ll turn in.”
“That’s probably a good idea.” Hope watched her sister go, worried about the stiffness in her posture. She was pretending to be fine, but Hope knew that telephone call had disturbed her deeply.
“Damn Arvin. Damn him to hell and back,” she muttered fiercely once her sister had disappeared down the hall.
Dumping Faith’s tea in the sink, she set the cup in the dishwasher and went to check the doors and windows. Occasionally, if it was hot and there was a cool breeze, she propped open the front door and let the evening air sift through the house. It brought with it all the spring smells she loved so much—fresh-cut grass, anise, rosemary. She lived on the kind of street where everyone knew everyone else, most went to the same church, which was located only a block away, and no one worried about crime or violence.
But tonight she didn’t care how safe her neighborhood normally was, or how welcome a breeze might be. She was going to lock up.
Oscar darted between her legs, nearly tripping her as she passed through the living room. He’d been in for most of the day, had even allowed Faith to feed him. But the expectant meow he gave her at the door told Hope he was definitely ready to go out.
“Here you go,” she said, opening the door and holding the screen.
The cat fled past her, loped across the yard and disappeared into the sh
rubs separating her place from Mr. Paris’s.
Hope took the opportunity to look around. No strange cars were parked on the street. No movement or noise broke the stillness. Mrs. Crandall’s porch light, two doors down, cast strange shadows on the lawn. But that wasn’t unusual. Mrs. Crandall left her light on every night.
Overall, it looked like another quiet night in her peaceful neighborhood.
* * *
A HEAVY THUMP woke Hope long before dawn. She lay in bed, straining to hear above the sound of her own breathing, her nerves tingling from the sudden awareness flooding through her. What was that? Faith? Was she up?
Hope angled her head to see down the hall, hoping a glimmer of light would indicate it was her sister moving around. But the darkness beyond her bedroom was so complete she had to blink several times to be sure her eyes were actually open.
“Faith?” she called softly.
No response.
Kicking off the covers, Hope got out of bed and started moving carefully toward the hall. It was probably nothing, she told herself. But the memory of Arvin’s threats and the call they’d received earlier made the back of her neck prickle.
Surely Arvin wouldn’t reappear so soon. Surely he wouldn’t do anything that could actually injure someone.
Surely? Hope realized she wouldn’t put anything past her uncle. He’d considered himself above the law for so long, who could say what he’d do? He believed Hope had wronged him for the second time, and he’d promised revenge. Just what his idea of “making her pay” was, Hope didn’t know. But she wasn’t going to let him surprise her. Or hurt Faith.
Creeping through the house, Hope stood at Faith’s door, grateful to find it open, and peeked in. Faith already had more privacy than she’d ever experienced. She probably saw no need to close her door at night.
The window to the left of the bed faced the side yard, where a line of cottonwood trees blocked most of the moonlight. After a few seconds, however, Hope managed to make out her sister’s form. Faith was still in bed, sleeping.
So what was the noise she’d heard?
She tiptoed down the hall toward the kitchen and living room, where the windows would allow in more moonlight. The phone was still off the hook from earlier, so Arvin couldn’t call them again. She hoped she’d be able to establish service right away in case they had an emergency on their hands.
There isn’t going to be an emergency. I’m overreacting, she told herself. But that didn’t ease the sick feeling in her stomach. Nor did it replace the bigger question: if Arvin was back, what might he do?
Hope recalled the fierceness of his anger the night he found out she was pregnant with Bonner’s baby. Her father had called Arvin from the church, wanted to meet him at the house to discuss the problem. But Arvin arrived first and screamed every vile name he could think of at her—whore, slut, child of hell. He would have struck her, if not for her mother.
Faith had once said she believed Arvin was in love with Hope, but Hope knew better. Ever since she’d grown old enough to avoid and deny him, he’d become obsessed with the idea of forcing her to submit to him. But he’d never loved her.
The numbers of the digital clock on the microwave lent the kitchen an alien greenish glow. While Hope watched, 2:34 became 2:35. They hadn’t even been sleeping three hours. But three hours was long enough to drive from Superior to St. George. Arvin could easily have returned to Superior with Bonner this morning, placed the call Faith had received before bed, then slipped away undetected. One wife would simply assume he was with another, and the other Brethren wouldn’t have a clue.
Keeping to the walls and darker corners, Hope looked through the glass doors that opened into the backyard. With the porch and all the old trees back there, it was difficult to see much beyond a few murky shapes—the garden gate, the grill, the lawn furniture. Fortunately, nothing moved.
She held still for several seconds, waiting, listening. She was about to go to the front, when another thump shot a jolt of adrenaline through her system.
It had come from the side yard, where she kept her garbage containers on a small concrete slab poured specifically for that purpose.
Hope made a feeble attempt to convince herself that it was only Oscar, searching for food scraps among the refuse. Or engaging in another of his many fights. St. George wasn’t particularly concerned with animal control. There were plenty of strays. But the only sound was that ominous thump. No hissing or growling.
Hope’s eyes cut to the phone. She darted across the kitchen to hang it up—and nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard a voice behind her.
“Hope? Is everything okay?”
She whirled to face Faith, standing at the entrance to the hall, only her silhouette visible in the darkness.
“Faith! What are you doing up?” she whispered harshly, flattening one hand against her chest as if she could slow the pounding of her heart.
“I heard something,” she said softly. “Did you?”
Hope nodded.
“What is it?”
“I don’t know.”
“It could be Arvin,” Faith said. “Maybe we should call the police.”
“You don’t really think he’d do anything…serious, do you?”
“He’s strange,” Faith admitted. “Sometimes he was kinder than I expected him to be. But I don’t think he was feeling very kind when he left here today. And he’s more often cruel.”
Cruel wasn’t good. Not when they were hearing things that went bump in the night. Hope’s fingernails curled into her palms. “What kind of cruel?”
Before her sister could respond, the doorknob on the back door began to jiggle and Hope felt her knees go weak.
“It’s him. It’s got to be him,” Faith said. “Call the police.”
Hope hung up the phone, but even after she’d waited several seconds, she couldn’t get a dial tone. Wasn’t she waiting long enough? Or had Arvin cut the line?
The doorknob stopped rattling. A dark shadow moved past the closest window. “Get down,” Hope whispered, trying to give the telephone another chance to work.
Faith crouched down and crawled over just as Hope put the receiver back to her ear. No dial tone. Shit!
“What’s wrong?” Faith demanded. “Call the police. I don’t want him to get inside. I don’t want him—”
“He can’t get in,” Hope said breathlessly. “We’ll be fine.” She hurried across the floor to reach the cupboards and took out the biggest knife she owned.
“What are you going to do with that?” Faith asked.
“Protect us. Go to the bathroom and lock yourself in.”
“I’m not leaving you here. It’s my fault he’s doing this. If I go back with him, he’ll stop. Maybe I should just—”
“You’re not going anywhere you don’t want to go,” Hope said. “And at this point, he’d probably punish you, anyway. He could hurt the baby.”
Standing on legs that felt far too rubbery to support her, Hope made it to the window without falling and raised a hand to the glass so she could stare out. The back porch was empty now. At least it appeared to be empty.
“Is he gone?” Faith asked.
Hope doubted Arvin had driven three hours just to make a little noise. “I can’t tell.”
“Maybe I should turn on a light.”
“No! If we turn on the lights, he’ll be able to see in, but we won’t be able to see out.”
“At least he’ll know we’re up and around, that we know he’s here.”
“I get the impression he doesn’t care if we know. He might even want us to know. It might be part of whatever game he’s playing. We’re alone. He’s already cut the phone line.”
“What are we going to do?” Faith asked.
“Anything we have to,” Hope responded. Anger and determination were finally coming to her rescue, lending her strength. She would not allow Arvin to terrorize them. She’d come too far to fall back into the pit of fear and intimidation from wh
ich she’d escaped.
“Stay here.” Hurrying into the living room, Hope pressed her nose to the front window. She’d been hoping to spot Arvin, to see what he might be up to, but she hadn’t expected to come face-to-face with him on the other side of the glass.
With a startled cry, she jumped back and dropped the knife.
“Hope? Are you okay?” Faith asked as the knife clattered to the floor.
“He’s right outside. I saw him.” She scrambled to reclaim her weapon, then held it tightly in one ice-cold hand as she hovered near the window to peer out again. This time she saw nothing.
“Is he still there?” Faith breathed, coming up behind her.
“I can’t tell where he is. But he can’t be far.” She banged on the window to draw his attention. She didn’t really want to come face-to-face with him again, but keeping him in front of her was definitely preferable to wondering whether he was sneaking around some other part of the house, trying to break in. “Flip on the porch light.”
She heard the floor creak as Faith made her way to the switch by the front door. A moment later, the light came on, and Hope saw Arvin standing on the porch, looking about as sinister as a man could look, with his straggly hair, gangly body and cadaverous cheeks.
“I’ve called the police,” she shouted loud enough for him to hear. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll head back to Superior now.”
He grinned, revealing less than the normal allotment of teeth. “Pretty tough to do that without a phone, ain’t it, Hope?”
Hope tightened her grip on the knife. “I have a cell phone. Welcome to the twenty-first century,” she said, and wished with all her heart that it was true. Unfortunately, she socialized so little she’d never seen any point in purchasing a cell phone—but he didn’t know that.
His smile disappeared. Darting forward, he slapped his hand against the window.
The glass shook. Faith screamed and sank to the floor. Hope automatically raised the knife—and pretended she hadn’t nearly lost control of her bladder.
