Summer Shadows (13 page)

15

D
espite her exhaustion, Julia tossed and turned on her makeshift bed, going in and out of dreams, most featuring loathsome men with blood-stained knives or bats. She woke up soaked in sweat, with Jack’s arm draped around her neck.

She groaned and turned to look at the clock. 5:30 a. m. The dawn was still lavender-gray, and it was no use trying to go back to sleep.

She dragged herself out of bed and paddled into the kitchen. She needed coffee.

A list of needed supplies was taped to the refrigerator door. Julia snatched up a pencil and wrote in bold, heavy lines,
Air conditioner for the living room
. She underlined it three times. It was an expense that she’d hoped to avoid, but now she didn’t care about the money.

“No wonder the wallpaper’s peeling,” she said aloud. “It’s so awful in this house.”

She prepared herself a strong cup of instant coffee and dropped an ice cube in it, then sat on the porch steps where it was somewhat cooler.

She sipped her coffee slowly, relishing the bitter taste and the feeling of the caffeine coursing through her deadened senses. She felt like a zombie coming back to life.

Her nerves were still shaky from the dreams, and she was too restless to sit quietly. After finishing her coffee, Julia went inside and changed quickly into her jogging clothes and sneakers. She grabbed her iPod as she went back outside, but she was too nervous to put her earphones on and risk blocking out any sounds of distress from the kids, so she left them on her shoulders and was content to listen to her music from a distance.

As she jogged, her lungs worked hard against the oppressive humidity, but she could feel her spirits brightening. She ran faster and faster, almost giddy from the adrenaline rush. Worries and cares fell to the wayside. A favorite song came on and she found herself singing along in between gasps for air. As the music swelled to a crescendo, she closed her eyes, just for a minute, and belted out the last few words.

That’s when she ran into the police car.

She bounced off the door and back into the present, hearing Wilde’s laughter through the open window.

“Assault on a police vehicle,” he said. “Very unusual. Are you all right?”

She pulled the earphones off and returned to the window. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention,” she said.

“I could see that. You all right?”

“Oh, fine, just embarrassed. I was caught up in a song.”

She was dripping sweat and dressed in mismatched, stretched out workout gear. He was dressed in his dark blue uniform, his black hair brushed, remarkably alert for so early in the morning.

“Hey, it happens,” he said. “I like to embarrass Amelia sometimes by singing along with her pop tunes. Can’t stand them, but I know the lyrics.”

She laughed. “There’s a healthy relationship. How is Amelia?”

And now that I think of it, how’s her mother? Where is her mother? How come no one ever mentions her?

“She’s good. I just walked her over to Mrs. Jurta’s.” He looked up at the sky. “Looks like it’s going to be a nice day.”

Julia made a face. “I guess it would seem that way if you’re sitting in an air conditioned car. It’s a sauna out here.”

“We’re going to have thunderstorms later tonight.”

“That’s good to hear.” She wiped her face, trying not to think what her hair looked like. If it were true to form, it would be frizzing in the humidity, not exactly the model of sophistication. She wished that she’d thought it over more before going outside.

“It should break up the humidity, anyway,” Wilde said. He nodded towards the house. “How are things going?”

“Good. We found some beds in the storage room yesterday, so I can get the kids off the floor and into real beds.”

Actually, the storage room was crammed with enough furniture to stock at least three yards sales. Apparently no one who’d lived in the little house ever thought to throw anything away. Julia had no idea what they were going to do with it all.

Robert was saying, “Nice. My offer still stands, by the way - if you ever need help with something, just let me know. Things are slow around here this time of year, so I can make the time.”

Julia hesitated. It was a nice offer, with no strings attached, and he seemed very sincere. She could use an extra hand, especially since the bureaus they found were too heavy for her and Ron to lug upstairs.

But what about Mrs. Wilde? Was there even a Mrs. Wilde? Robert didn’t strike her as the type of man who wouldn’t marry the mother of his child, but there was no ring on his finger. Amelia spoke constantly of her babysitters and never of her mother, but that could mean anything.

“Is there something wrong?” he asked.

Julia hadn’t realized how long her contemplative pause had lasted. Scrambling to cover, she found herself saying, “Actually, I have some furniture that’s too much for Ron and me to move alone. I hate to ask, but would you mind...?”

He held up a hand. “Say no more. Just let me know when.”

“Thank you so much. That would take such a load off my mind, not to mention my back.”

Wilde smiled back at her. His smile touched his eyes and crinkled them at the corners.

“Any time,” he said.

A door creaked, and one of the neighbors waddled out to get the newspaper. Julia took a step back from the car, keeping a friendly smile on her face.

“Well, thanks again,” she said. “I’d better let you get back to work and catch some bad guys or jaywalkers or something.”

“Jaywalkers, if we’re lucky,” he said. “It’s a never-ending crime scene here in Franklin. See you around, neighbor.”

And with that, he was off.

Julia waved to the neighbor across the street and then started for the porch, shaking her head.

“Oh, I need a big strong man to move furniture,” she muttered to herself. “Way to be a modern feminist, Julia. Your suffragette fore-mothers would be so proud.” Still, it was nice to have a friendly neighbor. Especially one as cute as Robert Wilde.

A noise caught her ear and she turned to see Mrs. Jurta walking briskly up the street, preceded by a dark Labrador. Julia’s first instinct was to run for the shelter of the house, but then Mrs. Jurta spotted her and waved.

Julia was caught. She stopped and waved back.

“Good morning!” Mrs. Jurta chirped. She stopped to let the dog sniff appreciatively around the mailbox.

“Good morning, Mrs. Jurta.”

“Please, call me Helen. I was just taking Dexter here for a walk.”

“Another pound puppy?” Julia asked.

“No, actually, this is my dog. We met when I was going to the pet store for some food and he was just a little guy. We took one look at each other and that, as they say, was that.”

She patted Dexter’s back, and Julia was just about to make an excuse and jog away when Helen nodded sharply down the road.

“Was that Officer Wilde I saw you talking to?”

“Yes, it was.” Julia cursed her innate politeness, which rendered it impossible to simply excuse herself. She didn’t want to listen to another long story about some other old city scandal. She began to jog in place lightly, hoping that Helen would get the message.

She didn’t seem to notice. “What a nice man,” she said. “He hasn’t been here long, but he and his daughter are both peaches. They came up from Manchester, you know.”

“I didn’t.”

“Oh, yes – right after his wife left him, I think, but I don’t know too much about it. He doesn’t say anything about it, but Amelia does and sometimes she gets the story mixed up.”

“Poor Amelia,” Julia said. “Does she see her mother?”

“On occasion. She’s got visiting rights, but can’t squeeze her daughter into her busy schedule. Her mother’s a doctor, you know. I think she shouldn’t allow her work to interfere with her daughter, but Amelia doesn’t see it that way. According to her, her mother practically walks on water and can’t make the time because she’s saving the world from disease. I don’t have the heart to tell her any differently.”

Julia couldn’t help but think that honesty was the best policy, even if it would be painful. In perpetuating the lies about her mother, Amelia was falling into the habit of avoiding every discomfort by the same method. What kind of a strain was it putting on her father?

But this was a family issue, and Julia couldn’t get involved. It wasn’t as though she didn’t have enough family issues of her own.

“I’ve got to get going,” Mrs. Jurta said, returning to her cheerful self. “Dexter needs his exercise and so do I. If you need anything, Julia, you be sure to let me know. I’ve lived in this town a long time, and I know everything and everyone in it. You need something, or if one of the kids does, you just say so.”

“I will,” she promised.

Julia jogged for about ten more minutes, and then went inside for a shower. She managed to eat something and was busily washing floors when the kids got up. Ron was, as usual, the first one up and the first one to volunteer to help with the work.

They went upstairs together to inspect the bedrooms. It was stifling there, despite the open windows and the fans.

Julia wiped her moist forehead and turned to Ron. “If we stay in this house with this heat, I’m going to have a meltdown. We’ll do some errands and find a restaurant with air conditioning.”

They went to find Dana. She seemed nearly comatose in the living room, watching cartoons.

“Everyone up,” Julia said. “We’re going out.”

“Where?” Dana asked, brightening.

“Somewhere with air conditioning. Ron, grab my list from the fridge, will you? Jack, go find your shoes. Dana, put on some shorts that don’t have holes.”

They took off as Julia packed up her laptop and grabbed her phone. There were several messages, including - to her surprise - one from the kids’ paternal grandmother, Miriam Budd.

Miriam had been Julia’s main opponent in the “amicable” custody battle. Although it was a civilized dispute, handled largely through lawyers and emails, Julia lost ten pounds from anxiety during that memorable month. After all the thinly veiled accusations of neglect, pride, greed, and inability, it was a wonder that they were still on speaking terms. The only good thing about the whole mess was that they’d managed to keep the kids out of it. Although there had been moments when Julia found herself wishing that Mrs. Budd would just disappear, she didn’t want the children to have to pick between their grandmother and their aunt.

At the sound of Mrs. Budds’ voice, it struck Julia that she had completely forgotten to have the kids call. She felt a twinge of guilt and apprehension.

Oh, am I going to be in trouble.

Miriam Budd’s voice was measured and carefully controlled. Having lost the legal battle, she had reverted to icy friendliness. It was difficult to miss the pointed sarcasm.

“Hi, Julia, it’s Miriam. I’m just calling to say good morning to the children. I’m sorry I missed their call yesterday. I know you have a lot to do fixing up that old place, so please just have them call me whenever it’s convenient. Goodbye.”

Julia deleted it, feeling her stress levels elevate. Lingering behind every encounter with Miriam was the threat of a renewed attack. When the victory had been declared, Miriam made no bones about the issue merely being postponed. Every time she came over to the house, she made a big deal about noticing what little changes there were, or questioning the children about their meals and bedtimes. Julia felt like a bug under a microscope, alive but in danger of being pinned at any moment.

And then, of course, there had been that crack about her then-boyfriend, Ryan, way back in the beginning. It wasn’t bad enough that Miriam and her daughter insinuated that he’d leave Julia rather than help with the new responsibilities: they had to be
right
on top of that.

Ryan.

Julia hadn’t thought about him in a long time, and the image brought a lump to her throat.

She pushed the memories aside and looked at her phone again. The last message was from her parents, just saying hello. She saved that one.

Julia put her phone in her purse and then checked her reflection in the TV. Her hair was a little disheveled, so she spent a few moments fixing it. Her emotions were all over the place, and her fingers shook as they tried to tame her unruly dark hair. She shouldn’t let Miriam get to her so much. It was only right that she be worried about the children. They were her grandchildren, and her one remaining link with Timothy. Julia, having won, could afford to be more generous with both Miriam and her husband.

Ron came in. “Do we need the grocery bags?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Julia said. She thought she was too contemplative – her family had always teased her about overthinking things. She was going to have to learn to stop that. There was too much danger in mulling the past.

She flashed the serious boy a smile. “Let’s go.”

16

R
on was glad that they were leaving the house for the day. Although Aunt Julia took way too much time picking up the simplest of supplies, it was still better than hanging around the overheated house, listening to Dana talk about that dog. Of course, if he’d been able to convince his sister to check out the old Victorian with him, that would have been a different matter. But Dana was convinc
ed that the house was haunted, and she refused point-blank.

Julia was solemn after checking her phone messages. Although she put on a good show, neither Dana nor Ron were fooled. Both knew that there were lean times coming, and they’d been plotting and planning ways to both make and save money to help out.

“Maybe we can ask the lawyer to give us our money early,” Dana suggested while they waited for Julia to come out of the post office. The kids were sitting outside on the shaded steps of the building, but it was still awfully hot.

Ron knew that Dana was referring to the trust fund that their parents had set up for them. He remembered Hall talking to Aunt Julia about it right in front of them, as though they couldn’t understand.

“That’s for college,” Ron replied.

Dana shrugged. “I don’t care. I don’t want to go to college.”

“Yes, you do.”

“No, I don’t - and anyway, it’ll help Aunt Julia, so I think we should give it to her now. What do you think, Jack?”

Jack nodded.

Ron considered it. Perhaps it was a good idea. It would buy them some more time and take some of the worry from Aunt Julia’s face. But hadn’t Hall said that they couldn’t touch the money until they were a certain age? Maybe if they all asked for it together and insisted, he would give it up. It was their money after all.

He was still working this through when Dana, exasperated, said, “When are we going to leave? I’m dying out here!”

Jack’s face was pink and Ron tried to fan them both with his hands. “She said it’d only be a minute. Come on, guys, keep thinking of other things we can do.”

“Yard sale?” Dana shrugged.

Julia came out at that point, and they abruptly ended their discussion.

The next stop was the hardware store. Ron and Julia needed chair rail, and John Irwin Junior had a good stock on hand. Ron and Dana loaded it into the cart while Julia talked about the renovations with the curious store owner.

When she learned that the chair rail was for her room, Dana became very excited. She pestered Ron with questions, like why it was called “chair rail”.

“I don’t know,” Ron answered. “I guess maybe it keeps the chairs from bumping against the wall.” He held out a rail. “Put this one back.”

“Why?” Dana scowled. “What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s got a crack in it, see?” He pointed.

She put it back and got another, giving it a cursory once-over before handing it to him. “When do you think the room will be finished?”

“Probably two or three days,” Ron said, proud to be able to show off a little of his knowledge. “We have to let the paint dry and with this humidity, it takes a little longer.”

Dana clapped her hands. “I can’t wait! It’s going to be such a pretty room.”

“Yeah, it’ll look all right.”

“Do you like yours? Is it what you wanted?”

Ron considered it. It was going to be a bright, but thoroughly male room. With the vaulted ceilings, he could mount a hoop for some basketball and even mark the hardwood floors to make the place really look like a court. There was room for his desk and computer, all his equipment, and Jack’s toys from home - provided, of course, that the two of them got rid of some stuff.

Yes, he thought it would be pretty close to what he’d want, if he was staying. But there was no use in getting attached to the place, when they’d just leave it at the end of summer.

“It’s all right,” he said. “Jack likes it, don’t you?”

Jack looked up from his seat in the front of the cart. He was quiet today, earnestly studying a design brochure that Julia had given him earlier. His blonde hair looked limp and tired from the heat, and his heavy eyelids spoke of a bad night’s sleep.

“What?” he asked. “What did you say?”

“Do you like your new room?” Dana asked. “The one you’re sharing with Ron?”

He nodded. “And the ducky bathroom.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s
way
cool,” Ron assured him.

Jack went back to his brochure, looking pleased. Then he looked up again, his face crestfallen. “Where’s Yellow Teddy?” he asked.

“You left him at home,” Dana said.

Jack pouted.

“Oh, stop,” Ron said, tickling his neck. “You always lose him in the stores, remember? Then we have to go and find him before they throw him away.”

“Stop! Stop!” Jack giggled, and when his brother did, the little boy threw his arms around Ron’s neck and clutched him tight. After a second, Ron pulled away and ruffled the boy’s hair.

“Good boy, Jack,” he said.

They waited for Julia and John Irwin to finish talking. Dana sat down on the extended bottom rack of the cart, resting her head in her hands.

“I’ve been in town ever since I was a kid,” Irwin was saying. “I always like hearing what people are doing with their new places. My dad was a contractor and he helped out redoing nearly every old house in town, so Mike and I grew up in and out of all sorts of buildings. We knew every cubby hole, every secret entrance, every covered up window in town. My dad even worked at that old convent outside of town and we used to play in the underground tunnel over there.”

“Underground tunnel?”

“Yep. They had an orphanage and a school, and it used to be so bitterly cold in the winter that they built a tunnel under the road separating the buildings so the orphans wouldn’t get frostbite going to school. Your kids would love it. It’s too bad the place was sold – otherwise, I’d have been able to show you around.”

“It’s all right,” she smiled. “I think we’ve got enough to do with the house as it is.”

“It doesn’t sound like your renovations will take too long.”

“No, not unless I need to replace that wall in the back room.”

John looked puzzled. “The wall?”

“Oh, just the paneling, I think. It looks really, really tacky and it’s starting to buckle. I’m probably going to have to tear it out, might rip out some of the wall with it.”

Julia turned, relieved when she saw the cart filled. “Are we all set to go?” she asked hopefully.

Ron thought,
she’s trying to get away from John Irwin.

He didn’t blame her: John Irwin Junior could talk almost as much as Mrs. Jurta, only he was less interesting. Maybe it was a New Hampshire thing.

“All set,” Ron said.

“Excellent,” Julia said. “Let’s be on our way.”

“I can check you out at that register there.” John pointed to an unattended one.

The same bored-looking teenager was there, reading a different magazine. She seemed no more inclined to help than she had been the other day. She looked annoyed when they pulled the cart up next to her station.

Julia was swiping her credit card when the front doors opened, letting in a swirling mass of hot air and cigarette smoke. Ron didn’t need to look up to know who had come in.

Sheila O’Reilly declared loudly, “Well,
hello
Budds! How are you this fine day?”

She stood with her fist planted on her hips, her faded shirt loosely covering her generous girth, and her short, dark hair plastered to her head from the heat.

Two teenagers flanked her. The girl looked a little like Sheila, with long, dark hair and bold make up. She was dressed very casually, her tight jeans making the most of her long legs.

“Oh, hello, Sheila,” Julia said with a genuine smile. “How are you surviving the heat?”

“I’m loving it. This is my kind of weather. I keep trying to convince the old man to move to Florida, but he likes the snow, he likes his couch and TV, and there’s no point in uprooting him. It’ll just make him wither even more, right, Katy?”

Katy shrugged and muttered, “Yeah.” She wore a set of over-sized sunglasses and hadn’t looked up from her cell phone since she first walked in.

Sheila gestured to her companion. “Have you guys met the grandkids? This is Katy and Dylan. Katy’s fifteen and Dylan’s nearly fourteen. Guys, Julia Lamontaigne and her entourage: Ron, Dana, and Jack. Say hello.”

“Hello,” Katy muttered. Her voice was musical, despite her disinterest.

“Hey, sup,” was Dylan’s response. Dylan was shorter than Katy, with curly reddish-brown hair, bright eyes, and an open, friendly expression. He put his phone away and gave Ron an approving nod. His legs and arms were scratched and bruised. Ron thought he must be a skateboarder.

“’Sup,” Ron replied.

Dana seemed put off by them. Jack’s only response was to take hold of Julia’s shirt again.

“Whatcha getting today? More paint?” asked Sheila.

Ron wondered how she knew that they had gotten any paint.

“Just some chair rail to finish off the rooms,” said Aunt Julia. “We’re nearly done with the upstairs. By the way, thank you for telling me about the furniture in the storage room. It looks like we have everything we need now.”

“Well, I’m glad someone’s using it. My husband had to put up with my rants for days about people being so wasteful. By the way, the last time I was in the house, I noticed a few things that…”

Julia signed the receipt while nodding her head to Sheila’s stream of talk.

Unsure of what to do, Ron shoved his hands in his pocket and listened. Dylan began nudging Ron’s elbow. Ron ignored him until the nudging became a painful pinch. He turned, rubbing his elbow.

“What?” he asked, annoyed.

Dylan put both palms up. “Easy. I just wanted to know - you guys are in that house on Whipple Avenue, right?”

Ron was puzzled by the question. “Yeah. So?”

“So, nothing. I just wondered if you’ve noticed the old Lang place yet, that’s all.”

“The old
what
place?”

“The old Lang place. You know, the cobwebby one that looks like it’s from every horror movie ever made.”

“The haunted house?” Dana asked.

“Yeah, that one.”

“We’ve seen it,” Ron said. “What about it?”

Dylan stepped in closer to speak quietly. “Have you, you know, checked it out yet?”

“No,” Ron answered.

“It’s closed up,” Dana said. “No trespassing.”

“I don’t mean break in,” Dylan said. “I just meant, have you been up close? They say, at certain times, you can still hear the screams.”

A cold chill raced down Ron’s spine.

“What screams?” Dana whispered, turning white.

“Of the murdered woman, of course. Some of the locals around here say that she’s still there, wandering. She doesn’t know her husband killed her.”

“They didn’t bury her?”

“He means,” Katy broke in, “the
ghost
of the woman who was killed. Come on, Dyl, you’re scaring the kids.”

“I just want to see if they’ve heard anything.” He studied them, curious. “Have you?”

“I don’t believe in ghosts,” Ron said firmly.

“Everyone believes in ghosts, no matter what they say. How about you, Dana? You’ve heard something, I bet. Am I right?”

Dana bit her lip and looked at Ron for direction.

Dylan grinned. “You have! What did you hear?”

“Nothing,” Ron said quickly. “We haven’t gone near the place.”

“Too scared?” Dylan sneered.

“No time,” he shot back. “We’ve been helping Aunt Julia.”

“Well, that’s as good an excuse as any.”

“Knock it off, Dylan!” Katy said.

“Only little kids believe in ghosts,” Ron snapped. “And I’m not scared of anything that’s dead.”

“But you’re afraid of the house,” Dylan taunted.

“This is stupid. It’s just an old building.” Ron tried to calm down. He had to set a good example for Dana and Jack. “There’s nothing there.”

“How would you know if you’ve never been near it? You can’t be sure that there
isn’t
something there.”

“Neither can you, Dylan,” Katy said. “It’s not like you go and hang out there either, you know.”

Dylan rolled his eyes and returned to Ron. “Okay, look, here’s the thing - everyone knows that place is haunted. It’s a fact and I want to prove it by getting something on camera. Have you seen anything even slightly mysterious?”

He seemed so sincere that Ron felt sorry for being so defensive. He shook his head. “No, sorry, I haven’t.”

“But I have,” Dana piped up.

Dylan whipped around. “You
have
?” he squeaked.

“It was just the wind, Dana,” Ron said nervously. He didn’t want to get Dylan’s hopes up and anyway, there was too much going on to start a ghost hunt.

Dana’s chin lifted. She was going to be stubborn.

“It wasn’t the wind. Something moved those bushes. I just couldn’t see who…” she paused for effect, “or what it was that moved them.”

“When was this?” Dylan demanded.

“Yesterday.”

“What time?”

“Lunchtime.”

“Ghosts don’t come out in the daylight,” Katy drawled. She pulled off her over-sized sunglasses to reveal large blue eyes. “They only appear at night when everyone’s too tired to be very observant or smart.”

“No, she could have seen one,” Dylan said thoughtfully. “I mean, there are all sorts of apparitions and they all have their own rules.”

As Dylan started grilling Dana on what she’d seen, Ron and Katy exchanged glances. She rolled her eyes and he grinned at her. Ron thought the whole topic was silly, but decided to let Dana and Dylan have their chills and thrills and be done with it.

Katy seemed to think the same thing. She shook her head again and returned to her cellphone.

Ron was momentarily disappointed in that she didn’t want to talk with him, but he understood that she was a lot older. It was a compliment that they’d even shared that brief moment of sympathetic annoyance.

Dylan was saying, “We’ve got to stake this place out and watch it. If we can capture something on film, that’d be awesome.”

“I don’t have a camera,” Dana said, “but Ron has a camera phone.”

“No, I’m talking video,” he responded. “My grandfather has a digital movie camera at home. I’ll talk him into letting me borrow it. If we all work together on this, we can take shifts and get it all on film. What do you say?”