Chapter Three

THREE

Oh, Margaret,” Edie said, “you’re in a real pickle.”

I had moved my self-pitying anxiety spiral to the front porch, a change of scenery for my misery following the phone call with Katherine. Our front porch was exactly the kind you dream about: large and encircling the house like a hug. Hal and I bought a row of rocking chairs to line the porch, and it was so pleasant to gently rock while staring out at the greenery of the front yard. If one is going to have an anxiety spiral, one might as well have a good view while it’s happening. Edie, my neighbor, sat next to me now, rocking slowly and looking at me with concern.

“I sure am,” I responded, my gaze still trained ahead. The day continued to hint at rain, bleary skies and an ominous wind pushing through, but no follow-through on the promise had yet occurred.

“What are you going to do?” Edie asked.

If I were being honest, part of the reason I had moved to the front porch was in the hopes that Edie might come over. I needed someone to talk to, someone with living, present-day thoughts and opinions. It was no more than five minutes before I spotted her trotting up our long driveway and waving at me the whole time, as if having read my mind.

We had met Edie soon after moving in. While Hal and I were still unpacking, in fact. She had arrived unannounced at our front door and greeted us with a cheerful shout that scared the bejesus out of both of us. Edie was a squat, motherly woman with close-cropped hair and a beaming smile. And boy, did she like to talk. She had plenty to say about our house (How beautiful! I’ve always loved this house, always! I was so excited when the for-sale sign was taken down, couldn’t wait to meet my new friends!) and even more questions about us (Where do you two come from? Was it hard to leave? How much was the final sale price on the house, if you don’t mind my asking? Do you think you’ll do any renovations? Oh, I hope not!) that all came out within minutes of our meeting her.

“Can’t stand that woman,” Hal said to me after she left, but I found her to be pleasant enough and, over the weeks of her dropping by, grew to like her. These days, I would go so far as to say that she was my best friend, not that she had much competition. She was certainly nosy in a way that was occasionally overbearing, but I enjoyed her presence and—more important—the extent to which she was alive. Heart beating, blood pumping, knowing how to work a toaster, alive. These days, I had limited interactions with things that were alive.

“Not much I can do,” I replied. “She’s booked her flight. She’s coming. When Katherine makes up her mind, there isn’t much you can do to stop her.”

“Like her father,” Edie said. A little too personal of a statement, but not untrue. I couldn’t fault Edie for being honest.

I beat my head against the back of the rocking chair. “Why didn’t I just keep lying to her?” I said. “I could have made something up. I could have just kept saying that he was busy or not at home.”

“She wasn’t really believing that anymore,” Edie pointed out.

“Sure, but it might’ve bought me some more time,” I said. “Maybe it could have gotten me through September, at least.”

“You and I both know Katherine has been determined to talk to her father,” Edie said, her soft face full of comfort. “If it weren’t today she made you tell the truth, it would have been tomorrow or the day after.” Still, I had seen Edie shudder at my mention of September.

“I know,” I said.

“She can outlast you.”

“I know.” I sighed.

We sat and rocked in silence. I savored the moments I didn’t have to think about Katherine or make any decisions. I closed my eyes, but I could feel Edie’s gaze trained on me.

“Tea, ma’am?” Apparently, Fredricka had joined us on the front porch.

I looked up at Fredricka’s large, broken face. “I’m fine for now, thank you.” I glanced over at Edie, who was staring at Fredricka. “Would you like anything?”

“Oh, I’m good, thank you,” Edie said quickly, eyes never leaving Fredricka. After Fredricka drifted away, nodding a farewell, Edie shook her head, as if trying to rattle something loose from her mind. “I don’t know how you can look at her day in, day out. My God, her head.”

I waved a hand. “You get used to it.”

“I couldn’t. And that boy. With those eyes just staring.” Edie shuddered. She looked at me, insistent. “Katherine won’t get used to it either, Margaret.”

The momentary break in decision-making was over. “I know,” I said. “She’s going to have a fit.”

“She’ll want you to move.” I heard a little panic in Edie’s voice.

“She can’t make me move.” But even as I said the words, I had my doubts. Katherine was strong-willed. She had talked me into all sorts of things when she was younger, much to Hal’s irritation. She had once gotten it into her head that she wanted a pet boa constrictor, and she had pestered me about it until I bought one for her. She named it Bilboa Baggins and kept it in a cage in her room, and our freezer was filled with dead mice for a couple of years. Hal didn’t care for that. Katherine hadn’t been allowed to bring Bilboa with her when she went to live with my sister, Noelle (Why the hell did you even let that snake in your house to begin with? Noelle asked me), so Bilboa lived with me and, to a lesser extent, Hal. I cleaned his cage and fed him frozen mice until I simply couldn’t anymore, at which point I sold him to a neighborhood kid. When Katherine found out, she was mad. But she was fairly mad all the time by that point, so it all evened out.

It was time to make plans, do damage control.

“If she doesn’t go up to the top floor, she won’t see the blood,” I said. “Maybe she’ll be gone before it gets to the stairs.” I put my head in my hands. “God, I don’t know what to do about the screaming.”

“Hopefully she’s a heavy sleeper.”

“Hopefully.” She wasn’t.

“Sleeping pills?” Edie looked at me, a criminal tinge in her eyes.

I laughed. “I’m not drugging my daughter.”

Edie lifted her eyebrows. “It’s a solution.”

“I am not drugging my daughter.”

For a minute we both stared out into the front yard, chuckling. A gust of wind rustled the grass. Somewhere in the back of the house, a bird slammed into a window.

I sighed. “I’ll need to take the boards off the basement door.”

Edie’s head swung around. “Margaret, no.”

“I know,” I said.

“You know what will happen.” Edie’s eyes were wide. “And it’s September.”

“I know,” I said. “But what is Katherine going to think if she comes here and sees the basement all boarded up? She’ll get suspicious immediately.”

“She’ll also get suspicious if she sees the walls bleeding.”

“I can try to keep her from seeing that. I can wake up early and clean it. I can keep her from going upstairs. I can make up some story about what the screaming is. Old pipes. I don’t know. I can’t keep her from seeing the basement door—it’s right off the kitchen.” I saw Edie’s incredulous look. “I know it’s risky, but there’s no way around it. Besides, I’ve got the Bible pages up. I can call Father Cyrus. It’s about time for him to come around again, anyway. Maybe that’ll tide everything over.”

“What if she wants to go down there?”

That would be a problem. But not a problem I could solve right now. “I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.”

“But, Margaret, if she meets Master Vale?.?.?.”

“She won’t.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because I’ll die first.” I heard the harshness of my voice and knew I should apologize for it. But when I looked over at Edie, she seemed to understand.

We spent the remainder of the time out front rocking in silence, staring out at the lawn together. Finally, the rain started.