by Dave Ferraro
It was nearing midnight and Carmine hadn’t returned. The dinner Guiliana had made remained untouched in the kitchen. Amber had dozed off on one of the cream chaise lounges and Guiliana left her to sleep. When she woke up, the room was dark with only slivers of moonlight reaching through the windows, and the house was silent. The night air had cooled to a slight chill, so Amber was happy for the chenille throw blanket Guiliana had draped over her. She stretched out of her curled up position, walked through the double glass doors at the end of the hallway, and strolled toward the end of the garden. She came to rest at a concrete plaque that had been placed amongst the rose bushes. The plaque was in honor of her mother. Amber would come out here from time to time, whenever she needed to clear her head. Just feeling a little closer to Lenora diminished her unease. She knelt in front of the plaque and ran her hand over the engraving—Your life is eternal, your memory a treasure.
“Mom, give me the strength to get through this and make Daddy understand,” she whispered.
She wrapped the blanket around her bare shoulders and gave a heavy sigh. Amber stared into the darkness of the woods just in front of her. There was a sudden rustle in the bushes just behind the plaque that made Amber’s heart beat rapidly. She strained her eyes, peering harder into the darkness, looking for any sign of movement. There wasn’t even a hint of the slightest breeze that could have stirred the leaves. Another rustle of the bushes had her on her feet, backing away toward the house. The rush of blood in her ears was deafening and she was gasping for breath by the time she reached the porch. The forest was full of terrifying creatures, so she wasn’t going to take any chances. But the sudden bone-chilling sensation that entered the atmosphere made her think that there was something more sinister watching from the shadows. The sensation crept up her spine like icy, skeletal fingers, finally resting on her neck, causing the fine hairs to stand on end.
She was surprised when Carmine appeared from the darkness. He was dressed in his best suit, a Tom Ford creation, so why was he wandering around in the woods? Amber stood on the porch and watched her father. He hadn’t noticed her. His face was blank and he looked as if he were in a trance. He rushed toward the porch and Amber stepped back into the shadows. He hesitated at the door of the house before turning and running down the steps and back into the garden, disappearing again into the woods.
His behavior was strange, something she’d never experienced. As she’d grown, Amber had become more aware of her father’s quirks and peculiarity, but she had brushed it off as her own teenage intolerance for parental behavior. Now, the more she thought about it, the more she wondered what drove him to do the things he did. He had never been one to eat, always finding an excuse to skip dinner, and he was always up at odd hours, but she attributed that to his constant traveling. It was just odd for him to be rushing around in the woods, in the dark, and in his best attire. He’d looked so torn—tormented even—like he was struggling with something. She just wished she knew what. Amber wasn’t about to question him or even run after him. Instead, she rushed into the house and escaped to the sanctuary of her bedroom.
