Читать книгу Cause Of Fear - Robert Ross - Страница 9

“Darling!” Geoff shouts. “What’s wrong?”

Her hands are covering her face against the approach of the flames.

“Linda! Are you all right?”

The heat…It’s gone.

She peers between her fingers. There’s no fire. Geoff is fine. Jim and Lucy stare at her as if she were a madwoman.

And might possibly she be?

“I—I felt—fire,” she stammers.

“Fire?” Lucy asks.

The waiter has approached their table, fluttering his hands and looking anxious. “Is everything all right?”

“Yes,” Geoff says, waving him away. “Bring my fiancée some water, please.”

Linda realizes patrons at the other tables are looking at her oddly.

“I thought—I felt this heat—I thought there was a fire—”

“It’s okay, darling. There’s no fire.”

“I thought I saw it,” she says, breaking into a sweat now. “It was like a dream I had last night—”

“Maybe we ought to order some food,” Jim suggests. “When Lucy’s light-headed she gets hot flashes, too.”

“Oh, Jim,” Lucy says, smirking.

“Are you all right, Linda?” Geoff asks. “Do you want to go for a walk outside?”

“Maybe.” She touches her brow and feels the sweat there. “I’ll just go to the ladies’ room for a moment.”

“Do you want me to go with you?” Lucy asks.

“No, no, I’ll be fine.”

Linda stands, hurrying across the room, avoiding the strange looks from the other guests. She pushes open the door of the ladies’ room and stands over the sink, splashing water on her face. She’s frightened by the vision. Her heart is racing. But she’s embarrassed, too. What must Jim and Lucy think? Geoff’s little girlfriend…What a flake.

But what did it mean? Had her dream so traumatized her she was now having flashbacks? What did they call it? Post-traumatic stress disorder? She’d seen it on Oprah, she thinks.

It had felt so real. Her cheeks were still hot. Maybe she ought to make an appointment with a doctor.

When she returns to the table they’re back to discussing historical theory, debating whether Ronnie Simms, whoever he is, should get the chair of some committee or another. Linda tunes out, concentrating on her salad. Geoff holds her hand under the table. She gets through the dinner with some forced smiles and again apologizes for her outburst when they’re all saying goodbye. Jim and Lucy assure her it was nothing, but she knows they’re going home shaking their heads over Geoff’s choice for a bride.

“Do you want me to stay?” Geoff asks when they’re back at her apartment.

“No, I’ll be okay.”

“You sure? Darling, I’m not going to leave until I know you’re okay.”

God, she loves him. She encircles his neck with her arms. Actually, she’d love for him to stay. To feel his strong, hard body next to hers all night. There’s nothing she likes more than waking up beside him, leaning up on her elbow to stare down at him, running her fingers through the nest of black hair on his chest. Geoff is the most exquisite lover she’s ever known. Not that she’s had all that many: in her twenty-five years, she can count all her men on one hand. But now that she’s found Geoff, she doesn’t feel the need to ever sample anybody else, ever again.

Yet as much as she might like him to stay, Josh is waiting for Geoff, and the boy always gets very upset when his father doesn’t come home. It’s a mood only encouraged and made worse by his nanny’s obvious disapproval of his father’s extracurricular behavior. Julia is an old crone who had been Gabrielle’s devoted companion, and who insists that Geoff is still a married man and shouldn’t be setting a bad example for his son. Linda can’t imagine Julia staying on with them after they’re married; she makes no secret of her disdain for Geoff’s intended new wife. But Josh is attached to the old woman, and has been ever since his mother walked out on him.

So it’s best that Geoff not spend the night. He tells Linda she needs a good night’s sleep and that if she still feels jittery in the morning, maybe she ought to give her doctor a call. She insists she’ll be fine. Still, Geoff says he’ll call her once he’s home just to say goodnight one more time.

She calls Megan once he’s gone.

“Did I wake you?”

“No, we’re just watching Letterman. What’s up?”

“Remember the dream I told you about?”

“Yeah. How could I forget?”

“Well, tonight, at the restaurant, I had it again. Except it was a daydream. We were all burning alive.”

“Sweetie, what have you been smoking?”

“Nothing. Megan, what’s going on with me?”

“You were anxious about having dinner with them, weren’t you? Geoff’s friends from the college.”

“Yes, but—”

“You ought to get your doctor to give you some Xanax. Sweetie, those little pills have done wonders for my well being.”

Linda sighs. “Maybe I have been overanxious ever since we started planning the wedding.”

“That’s all it is, sweetie. Nerves can do all sorts of weird things.”

Nerves. After she hangs up, Linda heads into the bathroom to study her face in the mirror. There are definitely lines creeping in around her eyes. Worry lines. She manages a small smile. If she tells Megan about those, next she’ll be suggesting Botox.

The phone rings. It’s Geoff.

“Imagine I’m there beside you tonight,” he whispers.

“Oh, I will. I always do.”

“Are you looking forward to this weekend, darling?”

She doesn’t want to lie but to admit how anxious she is about telling Josh their wedding plans wouldn’t do right now. She wants to prove to Geoff she’s strong, grounded, solid. “Of course I am,” she says. “I love the Sunderland house.”

“It should be beautiful. We’ll take a boat out on the lake.”

She purrs, smiling.

“I love you, Linda,” he tells her.

She feels as if she’ll cry.

“I love you, too, Geoff.”

She sleeps like an angel. No dreams. Just blissful rest, with Geoff’s words echoing in her mind all night.

Friday afternoon comes around, sunny and glorious. Linda’s arranged to get out of work early, and Geoff has no Friday classes. So as soon as Josh is out of school for the day, Geoff swings by Linda’s apartment in his black Range Rover. Josh is in the back seat, already watching a video.

“Is that Spider-Man?” Linda asks. “Wasn’t that a great movie?”

They’d seen it together at the theater, she and Geoff and Josh. It was clear that the boy had loved the movie as he watched it. He was jumping up and down in his seat, laughing and calling out “Watch it!” whenever the Green Goblin would appear. But afterward, when Linda had asked him if he’d liked it, he just shrugged.

He does the same thing now, not making eye contact with Linda as she slides into the front seat. She sighs, looking over at Julia, who sits primly beside him, her gnarled hands folded in the black cloth of her lap.

“Hello, Julia,” Linda says.

“Miss Leigh.” The old woman nods.

“Well, the weather’s cooperating anyway,” Geoff says as he maneuvers his way into traffic, heading for the Massachusetts Turnpike. “It’s gonna be a spectacular weekend.”

“Sure looks that way,” Linda says, the irony not lost on her.

She lifts an eye to study the pair in the backseat through the rearview mirror. Josh is a pretty little boy, with long black eyelashes over big, round, intense blue eyes. He’s as blond as his father is dark, a constant reminder to all of them of his absent mother. He’s wearing a yellow-and-green striped shirt and red cargo pants, a colorful contrast to the old woman seated beside him. Julia is in her late sixties, a dour-faced woman with a maze of wrinkles lining her face, her dyed black hair pulled back severely in a bun. She wears a black dress and a white blouse. On her feet pink Nike sneakers seem incongruous, but she needs them to keep up with Josh.

The ride out to western Massachusetts is uneventful, the concrete of the city quickly giving way to green rolling hills. Josh is intent on his video, and Julia comes alive only to occasionally offer him a drink box of orange juice or a handful of granola. Up front, Linda and Geoff make small talk.

“You feeling better?” he asks.

“Much. Guess all I needed was a good night’s rest.”

“Jim called this morning to ask how you were.”

“Oh, Geoff, they must think I’m a total dingbat.”

“No, not at all. They were just worried.”

She shakes her head, looking out the window as they pass cornfields and cows grazing peacefully in the midmorning sun. “It just seemed so real,” she says. “The fire.”

“The fire?”

The voice startles her. It’s Josh, from the backseat.

“Did you see a fire?” the boy asks her.

It’s unusual for him to address anything to her, so she turns around to look at him kindly.

“It was just a dream, Josh. A silly dream.”

“I dreamed about fire, too,” he says.

“Hush, now, Joshua,” Julia tells him.

But the boy is persistent. “It was really hot. Fire everywhere. It was burning me up.”

Linda looks over at Geoff, who seems troubled. “Josh, why didn’t you tell me about this dream?” he asks.

“Dr. Manwaring,” Julia says, “it was just a child’s nightmare. I saw no reason to trouble you.”

“Did it frighten you, Josh?” Linda asks.

He doesn’t answer. He’s apparently decided that he’ll go no further in sharing any of his thoughts with Linda. He just settles back into watching Spider-Man.

“I had a similar dream,” Linda tells Julia. “Isn’t that peculiar?”

The old woman just shrugs. Linda turns around and faces front again.

“Here we are,” Geoff announces, and they pull into the driveway of their destination.

The Manwaring family is an old one in these parts. There’s a family tree etched onto the wall in the study, dating all the way back to Rafe de Mesnil Waring, a companion of William the Conqueror in the eleventh century. Geoff’s great, great-grandfather built this house in Sunderland in 1872. It’s been enlarged and remodeled many times since, but the exterior looks pretty much the same as it did more than a hundred years ago. It’s an early Victorian with three floors, two gables, and a central fireplace. Fifteen acres of wood and farmland stretch behind it, most of it overgrown and wild now. A flat, pristine lake, surrounded by pine trees, reflects the afternoon sun. Geoff, being an only child, inherited the estate when his father died, but now uses it only on the occasional weekend or during summer vacations.

“First thing we need to do is air the place out,” Julia says, walking around the living room and den, throwing open the windows.

Linda stifles a little surge of resentment. She acts as if she’s the wife here, as if she’s the mistress of the house. Julia has been with the family since soon after Josh was born, so she’s opened and closed this house numerous times, while Linda still feels like a guest.

“Then we need to pick some lilacs,” Julia announces, tousling Josh’s hair as the boy lugs in his backpack. “Oh, how your mother loved the scent of lilacs in this house.”

“I’ll go pick them!” Josh offers, suddenly alert at the mention of his mother.

The nanny looks over toward her employer. “Is that all right, Dr. Manwaring? The bushes are all in bloom.”

Geoff is carrying in folders of student papers he needs to work on over the weekend. “Sure. Maybe you could help him, Linda. Don’t let him pick too many.”

They exchange a look. It’s one of those moments they try to find where Linda can spend some quality “alone time” with Josh. She smiles.

“Not the white ones,” Julia tells her. “Only pick the purple lilacs.”

“Why not the white ones?” Linda asks. “I love white lilacs.”

The old woman stiffens. “Well, it’s just that—well, we only ever have purple—”

Linda smiles. “Then maybe it’s time for a change.”

She watches Julia’s face darken.

“Josh!” Linda calls. “Wait up!”

She follows the boy out the door.

They are beautiful. Dozens of lilac bushes line the driveway and the side of the house. Their fragrance is so strong it reminds Linda of the perfume counter at Macy’s. She sees several varieties of purple, some dark, some barely lavender. And scattered among them, here and there, are several lacy whites.

“Josh!” Linda calls.

The boy has disappeared into the yard somewhere. Linda walks into the cluster of bushes, almost dizzy from the aroma. She begins snapping clumps of the flowers from the branches, choosing two whites for every purple.

She breathes in the fresh air, so exhilarating after weeks in the city. She glances off toward the trees that ring the property. What a beautiful day. Simply glorious. So full of sunlight. She hears a rustle in the trees and then spots the most magnificent bird she has ever seen, red and gold with an enormous wingspan. It swoops out from a tall branch and circles gracefully over her head before disappearing once again in the woods.

She spots Josh between the leaves, on the other side of the bush.

“Are you playing hide-and-seek, Josh? Because I can see you. Pick a better place and I’ll count to ten.”

But Josh doesn’t move. She can’t see him clearly. Just a shape, really, a small shape of red and yellow through the bright green leaves.

“Okay, if you don’t want to play, fine,” Linda tells him, snapping off a few more clusters. “Help me pick some lilacs.”

But the shape on the other side of the bush still doesn’t move. He’s just standing there.

Why is he spying on me?

She strains to see him through the leaves.

That is Josh, isn’t it?

Linda moves around the bush to see.

“Josh?”

She gasps, dropping the lilacs she carried in her arms.

No, it’s definitely not Josh.

It’s a demon in the shape of a boy—a dead boy, a boy burned to death—his skin black and charred, his hair scorched. Blank eye sockets glare out at her from his blackened skull. Only his clothing—the same that Josh had been wearing—remains unburned.

“Oh, dear God, no!”

“Were you calling me?”

She spins around. Josh is behind her. The real Josh, looking fine.

She whips her head back to where she saw the dead boy. He’s gone.

I’m not going to react. They mustn’t know I’ve had another one of these crazy visions. They mustn’t know.

“I—I thought I saw you back here,” Linda manages to utter, trying to steady her heartbeat racing in her ears.

“No,” Josh says, eerily calm. “I was in the backyard looking for my swing set.”

Linda kneels, picking up the lilacs she’d dropped. “Your swing set?” she says, trying to keep her voice even, her thoughts collected.

“Yeah. When I was little I had a swing set back there. But Daddy told me he had it taken down because it got all rusted and wasn’t safe.”

Linda stands, managing a smile. “And was it gone, then?”

The boy nods, and a little twinkle appears in his eyes. “If you get him to buy me a new one, maybe I’ll be nice to you.”

“Now, Josh,” she says, “that’s called bribery.”

“Don’t you want me to be nice to you?”

She tries to quiet her own fears, to force back her own anxiety, even as Megan’s idea of Xanax is starting to sound better and better to her. She tries to see the boy’s own pain in his eyes, his own fears.

But the face of that burned boy keeps getting in the way.

“I want you to be nice to me because you want to,” Linda tells him, forcing away the image, “not because I did something you wanted me to do.”

He shrugs. “Have it your way then.”

“Josh, we can have fun this weekend. Really. If you give me a chance.”

He has started to turn away, to push off into the lilac bushes his mother loved so much, but he stops. “Why should I give you a chance?”

“Because your father would like you to.” No, that’s not enough. “Because I’m a good person. A fun person. You’ll like me. You’ll see.”

“I’m never going to like you.”

Linda suddenly feels at a breaking point, as if the trauma of seeing that horrible vision has made this kind of sparring with Josh unbearable. All she wants to do is crawl into bed and pull the sheets up over her head and forget it all. Josh. Geoff’s friends. These hideous visions.

“You may never like me, Josh,” she tells me, “but you’re going to have to get used to me.”

“Why do I have to get used to you?”

She takes a long breath. “Because your father and I are going to be married.”

The boy just stares up at her. This wasn’t the way they’d planned on telling him, but it had just come out. Linda couldn’t hold it back any longer.

“We might as well be friends,” she says, trying to soften her voice. “You’ll see I’m not so bad.”

The child keeps glaring at her, saying nothing. His round blue eyes beam. His fair hair glows in the sun.

Linda tries to smile, offering her hand. “Come on, Josh. Let’s go inside and you can help me put these lilacs in vases. We can talk. We can talk as long as you want. You, me, and your Dad.”

“You can’t marry my father,” he finally says, his eyes still holding onto hers, in a voice that is low and deep, and that sounds nothing like a child’s.

Linda can feel herself stiffening again. “Oh, no? Why can’t I, Josh?”

“Because my mother won’t let you.”

It’s as if he’d just reached over and slapped Linda across the face, or punched her straight in the gut. She staggers backward from the boy’s words. Josh turns and runs off into the yard.

“Josh!”

Linda becomes aware of someone behind her. She turns around quickly.

It’s Julia.

“What did you say to him?” the old woman demands. “How have you upset him?”

“I just—I was trying to talk with him.”

The nanny pushes past her to go after the boy. “He is a sensitive child,” she says. “He is upset very easily.”

Linda becomes angry. “Oh, really now? He’s a rude child, that’s what he is.”

The old woman gives her a furious look, then begins to run after Josh in her pink Nike sneakers

Linda begins to cry. “I told him his father and I were going to be married,” she shouts after her. “And it’s true! You’d both better get used to it! Geoff and I are going to be married!”

Josh is found sobbing beside the cement slab that once held his swing set. Linda watches as Julia leads him in to his father, cooing little reassurances over him.

“I’m sorry,” Linda tells Geoff later, behind the closed door of the master bedroom. “I’m sorry it all came out that way. I know I should have waited for you but—”

“It sounds as if Josh was asking for it,” Geoff says.

“No. He deserved to hear it from you. I just lost it.”

Geoff sits down on the side of the bed and puts his face in his hands. “Maybe we shouldn’t have come here. There are too many memories of his mother here.” He slams his fist into his palm. “I’ve talked with him, Linda. I’ve asked him to give you a chance—”

“Oh, Geoff, it’s easy to see why it troubles him. Yes, he’s angry and hostile. But he’s a little boy abandoned by his mother. “She sighs, sitting down beside him. “We can still salvage this weekend. We’ll make it work.”

He looks at her with sheer adoration. “Thank you for not giving up.”

She kisses him lightly on the lips. “I’m determined to win him over. Even if I did nearly blow it by losing my control.”

Geoff holds her in his arms. “What was it that set you off? What put you on edge? Was it something Josh said?”

She remembers the strange, horrible voice that had come out of his mouth. The sinister phrase: My mother won’t let you. But she can’t pin her state of mind on the boy. Linda’s nerves had already been rattled by that thing she saw in the lilac bushes.

The dead boy.

The dead, burned boy wearing Josh’s clothes.

No. She didn’t see that. She only thought she saw that.

She does her best to cover up. “I—I guess I was still—oh, I don’t know—a little on edge from that dream. The same one that made me cry out at dinner last night.”

Geoff looks at her with concern. “Did you call your doctor?”

“No.”

“Sweetheart, I know the situation with Josh is causing you anxiety. That must be what’s making you so jittery.”

She smiles. “Megan suggests Xanax.”

He smiles back at her. “Hey, if it helps…”

“I’ve never been a nervous person before,” she tells him. That’s not entirely true: anxiety is no stranger to her. Self-confidence has never been one of her strong traits, growing up in the shadow of a perfect sister like Karen. In school, Linda never excelled, never thought she could get marks better than Bs. In social situations, she’s often felt anxious—look at that dinner with Jim and Lucy—but never has that anxiety given her hallucinations before, or torn through her dreams like a raging wildfire.

But she’s never been in love before, either.

In love with a man far smarter, far more handsome, far more successful than she thought she’d ever find.

And with a son who seems determined to keep her from achieving the kind of happiness she never thought would be hers anyway.

“I understand why you’re so anxious,” Geoff says, as if reading her mind. “I see it on your face, darling, every time you’re with Josh. I see the stress. I see the pressure you’re putting on yourself.” He sighs. “I’m sorry Josh is so obstinate.”

“I meant what I said,” she tells him. “I’m going to win him over. Let’s go downstairs and order pizza and rent whatever video he wants. We’ll make it his night and show him we can be a happy family.”

“And if he brings up the marriage plans?”

She smiles wearily. “We’ll acknowledge them, tell him we both love him, and that he’s going to be a part of our life together. That’s what he fears, Geoff. That he’s going to be abandoned again.”

Geoff nods. “You’re right. I suppose if we can reassure him of that, he’ll be okay.” He slaps his legs. “All right. Let’s go down and find him.”

Linda wants to believe it will work. She has to believe. All of her dreams depend on Josh finally accepting her—even growing to love her, or at least to like her.

Still, walking down the stairs she can’t seem to get the face of that dead little boy out of her mind, his scorched, blackened eye sockets staring straight into her soul.

But Josh refuses to talk. Pepperoni pizza, Buffy the Vampire Slayer videos, chocolate ice cream with peanut butter and hot fudge—none of it does the trick. Geoff asks him if he wants to talk about what Linda told him, but the boy pretends he’s deaf, ignoring his father’s pleas. Linda can see it breaks Geoff’s heart. For a father and son this close, such hostility is almost physically painful. Geoff slumps down on the couch, miserable. Josh plops onto the floor in front of the TV set, stuffing his face with pizza, refusing to look around at either his father or Linda. The only one he responds to is Julia, who seems, Linda thinks, to enjoy the discomfort of the adults.

After Josh has gone to bed, Linda joins Geoff in the master bedroom. They’ve gone through a charade of pretending to have separate bedrooms for Josh’s benefit. Julia had made quite the scene, insisting the boy not know if his father was “sharing his bed out of wedlock.” The old woman had drawn herself up to her full height, puffing out her chest. “The boy is pure. He mustn’t be corrupted at such a young age.” How old-fashioned she was. How prim and prudish.

Linda tiptoes past Julia’s room and slips into Geoff’s arms.

“How come you always smell so good?” she purrs against his skin.

They make love. Linda revels in the feel of Geoff, his weight on top of her offering such a sense of security and fulfillment. She runs her hands through his thick dark hair, kissing his neck and his ear. He is gentle with her but solid, too, self-assured and certain of his strength. He is the rock Linda has needed for so long, the surety she has craved.

Why has it been so difficult for her? Lying there in the sleepy afterglow, listening to Geoff breathe, Linda remembers how frightened she’d felt when she first moved to Boston, the sense of displacement, of inadequacy in the face of all these achievers around her. Her college classmates all had grand career plans. Her best girlfriends all came from well-placed Eastern families, assured of post-graduation jobs and, in many cases, marriages. So often Linda would think it should have been her sister Karen who had gone on to college, who left their farm in Michigan for a chance in the Big City. Karen had charisma and confidence to spare. But Karen also ended up married to a chicken-feed salesman.

“Don’t worry, Linda,” Karen had told her, as Linda adjusted her wedding veil. “You’ll find Mr. Right someday.”

“Yeah, whatever. Maybe your hubby-to-be has got some chicken-feed salesman buddy….”

“Do you want me to ask him?”

Linda scowled. “No, thanks, Karen. I’m okay on my own.”

“Why don’t you become a career woman? You know, you’re going to move away to a big city and become wealthy and powerful, while I sit home and make babies.”

“Gee, thanks, sis, for the pep talk.”

Karen laughed. “I just want you to be as happy as I am, Linda. To have found a man who loves me—that’s just so indescribably perfect.”

Linda imagined it was. And now she had—hadn’t she?

And she couldn’t wait for Karen to meet Geoff.

Linda remembers watching her sister walk down the aisle. How everyone had turned to watch her. “What a beautiful bride,” she heard more than one person whisper. “She’s really the beauty in the family, isn’t she?”

Then Karen exchanged her vows with her husband, and the whole church applauded them.

Just so indescribably perfect.

But I’ll never know what that feels like, Linda thought.

Linda wanted her sister to be happy. Sure, she’d always been envious of her, but Karen wasn’t a bad person. A little insensitive at times, a little bit self-absorbed—she really did want Linda to be happy, in her own way.

Linda can’t deny a certain smug satisfaction that Geoff is far more handsome and successful than Karen’s husband. He was handsome like—like Jake Gandolfini back in high school, the jock who had rubbed suntan lotion on Karen’s back. The kind of handsome Linda thought she could never get.

And now she has.

Hasn’t she?

Of course she has. By loving her, by wanting to marry her, Geoff has given her an unmistakable message: you are good. You are worthy.

She drifts off to a happy sleep, and no dreams disturb her.

When she wakes, the early morning sun is streaming through the windows, filling the room with a bright pink light.

But the first thing she realizes is that Geoff is no longer beside her.

She sits up.

He is sitting in the chair opposite the bed, staring at her with tired, dark-circled eyes. His face is white. He looks—dead.

“Geoff! What’s wrong?”

He doesn’t respond. He just keeps staring at her.

She hops out of bed and hurries to him. “Honey. Geoff. What’s happened?”

“I had a dream,” he rasps.

She kneels beside him. “A dream?”

“A dream,” he echoes. “A dream of fire.”

Linda’s heart thuds into her throat. “Fire?”

He turns his bleary eyes to her. “The house was burning down. I saw the fire claim you. I saw you burn to death in front of my eyes.”