Her Last Letter (12 page)

Every few days I talked to Linda with the excuse of asking about her health, which I was, of course, concerned about, but more concerned to hear what was happening with the background check.

“Nothing yet,” Linda would say. “Give it time, Gwyn.”

I thought about hiring my own investigator, but didn’t know of a good one, and if I hired a private detective, I wanted them to be very good. Other than looking through the phone book, I didn’t know of a way to find a reputable one. For now, I’d try it Linda’s way.

She assured me that “Mr. I Spy”-not his real name, but Linda’s attempt to be covert about the situation-was a thorough and well-respected investigator. I was glad to hear that, but more concerned that the guy be fast.

I was certain Trevor was meeting the woman, whoever she was, in Denver-or somewhere-and the thought made my insides churn. After we’d kissed good-bye this morning, I’d curled up, fetal position, on the couch and stared at nothing for hours. It wasn’t good. I could feel myself wanting to return to the mindless vegetative state I’d experienced following Kelly’s death.

Finally, I willed myself off the couch and managed to get myself moving. I would visit the old house … have a word with Kelly.

A layer of new snow covered the front porch, but instead of the smooth unblemished coating I’d expected to see, the snow was marked with footsteps. It didn’t alarm me. I’d seen this sort of thing before. Solicitors who didn’t know the house was empty probably had come by. I studied the pattern of footsteps, but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Only the front walk and porch were marked. The snow surrounding the rest of the house appeared intact.

I inserted the key in the lock, and stepped inside.

It wasn’t warm, but it wasn’t freezing either. The thermostat was set at sixty degrees to protect the plumbing, which I’d left in working order for the times I stopped by. I didn’t see any signs of squirrels or other visitors; the screening over the chimney had taken care of that, and the timer was still plugged in.

I walked farther inside and glanced at the mantel over the fireplace. I’d replaced the broken glass in Kelly’s frame, and now her picture was back where it belonged, at the edge of the mantel with the rest of the family photographs.

I strolled to the kitchen and turned on the cold water tap. The pipes chugged with stale air for a moment, then released a burst of water. I let the faucet run for a while-not that I needed water for anything-but it seemed like a good idea. I turned on the hot water tap, and after a minute or so, it flowed with the beginnings of warm water. “There you go, Kelly,” I said, “just in case you want to take a bath.”

I knew it might sound crazy to be talking out loud in an empty house to my dead sister, but as long as I knew I wasn’t crazy and no one could hear me, who cared?

I opened the back door off the kitchen and looked out to the detached one car garage. I thought about going out there, but decided maybe not, or else maybe I’d check it out when I was done roaming the house.

I stepped into my dad’s little room and stood looking at his desk, then walked over to the swivel chair and sat down. The rolling wheels beneath it creaked and slid backwards slightly, then stopped. I rolled myself up to the desk and looked at the room from my father’s perspective.

Screwing my face into the frown I’d often seen him wear, I mimicked his low growl. “Quiet down, you girls. I’m trying to work. You’re making
way
too much noise and I’ve got a
lot
of work to do.

“Right, Dad,” I answered back at him, “your work should have included your family, don’t you think?”

I stood up from the desk and walked to the window that looked out over the backyard. No more swing set. That had rusted and collapsed years ago. I remembered digging holes with kitchen spoons back there in the yard. Kelly and I were going to dig a hole to China, save on airfare.

I left my dad’s room and walked to the stairs leading to the second floor bedrooms.

In a way, it was good that Linda didn’t come by the house too much, because she’d be upset to see the small change I’d recently made. It wasn’t a big thing, so there really was no reason for her to care, but I knew she would. I turned right at the top of the stairs and entered our old bedroom, the one Kelly had converted to her own after Dad passed away.

I liked the change. It looked right. Two bunk beds sat on opposite sides of the small room, almost exactly like the ones that used to be there. It wasn’t as if I’d gone looking for them, but the room was empty, and the secondhand store didn’t want much for the beds, and if a family did end up renting or buying the house, the kids would have a place to sleep.

I hung on the doorframe for a while, then inspected our parents’ bedroom, and finally, the small bath. I pulled aside the shower curtain and looked into the tub, and was disgusted to see dead bugs upended there. I unrolled a length of toilet paper to scoop them up, deposited them into the wastebasket, then removed the plastic liner from the basket and replaced it with a new one.

Washing my hands with soap, I looked at my reflection in the mirror over the sink and thought that I looked tired. Trevor wouldn’t be home tonight. The house would be empty. I’d get to eat dinner alone, or I could go over to the Wild River and see Caroline, have dinner there. But I didn’t feel like talking to Caroline just now, and she would be busy anyway on a Saturday night.

I walked back downstairs and after one last look around the house, including a peek in the basement, headed out the front door. I glanced over to the garage, but didn’t feel like going out there anymore. All I’d need would be to find a dead mouse or something else equally disgusting to cap off my day.

What I really needed was to do something fun, something I wouldn’t do if Trevor were home.

It was three o’clock in the afternoon, still early, and I had an idea. First I’d go home and pack a small bag with a change of clothes and my bathing suit, and then I’d go over to the hot springs pool and soak in the thermal waters. If that didn’t make me feel better, nothing would. And the water had the power to heal, I was sure of that, maybe not psychological wounds, but certainly it could help.

I was smiling as I drove toward home, and pleased to see sunshine finally break through the clouds after the gray skies of this morning.

I could do all kinds of things this weekend. I could go cross-country skiing with Caroline, or alone, or go snowshoeing up in the mountains. I could take more pictures, or just commune with nature, hike down on the lower levels. I had all kinds of choices.

But I liked the hot springs idea.

I packed my bag, then fixed myself a tuna sandwich and tomato soup, eating it at the kitchen table. I wondered what Trevor was doing now, and if the woman he was seeing was someone he worked with. How convenient for him. I’d met some of his associates at the office parties, when I was invited, when I’d bothered to go. Maybe that was a mistake, not going. I was glad Trevor was happy in his work. He liked being the boss, running his own office. Unfortunately, though I enjoyed Trevor’s enthusiasm, real estate and sales were not my favorite subjects. I always listened whenever he talked about it, never let on how I felt, maybe even fooled him to a degree. Wasn’t that all anyone could expect of me? I couldn’t be someone I wasn’t, feel something I didn’t. And Trevor would sometimes shut down completely when I talked about art, and I forgave him.

Marriage certainly wasn’t easy, even under the best of circumstances.

I lifted a spoonful of soup to my mouth and slurped it, something else I wouldn’t do if Trevor were around. No, marriage wasn’t easy, and if you threw in a dash of murder and a sprinkle of infidelity, just watch the odds for success go down.

So who was Trevor screwing? And had he been screwing Kelly too, right under my nose? It made sick to even think about it.

After my lunch, I drove into town. I decided to make a stop at the Hotel Colorado, a favorite of mine, before heading to the hot springs pool nearby. I hadn’t visited the historic hotel in a while, nor had I been to the mineral pool since last winter.

The lobby of the over one-hundred-year-old hotel was truly vast, and reputed to be one of the most attractive in the western United States, having been modeled after Italy’s Castle Villa de Medici. The lobby had been renovated, now done in beige, and boasted myriad chandeliers, fireplaces, fountains, oil paintings, and potted palm trees. As I strolled about, stopping to gaze out into the hotel’s courtyard with its beautiful Florentine fountain, I wondered what sort of people once roamed the rooms of the venerable Hotel Colorado, what secrets it held, whose hearts had been broken here.

I changed into my bathing suit in the athletic club and walked out to the vaporous hot springs pool, huge in its length-two blocks long-the largest in the world.

Dipping slowly into the water, I gazed around at others enjoying themselves, a pair of giggling teenagers, a woman with flowing gray-flecked hair, a potbellied man in a fishing cap, all soaking in the comfortably heated mineral waters. If I wanted to, I could also take advantage of some of the hotter smaller pools, or go over to the Yampah Vapor Caves, enjoy a steam, get a massage, listen to soft music. So much to do, so much I took for granted, living here in Glenwood. But I wouldn’t want to live anywhere else.

I gazed at the surrounding mountains rising above the steam and felt at peace for the first time that day. I’d stay in this cocoon of warmth until my fingers shriveled and my cares seeped away. Maybe I’d call Caroline, or maybe not. It would be okay to be alone now, have dinner by myself, go over to the Italian Underground and have some pasta and perhaps too much wine. And later, maybe Trevor would call; maybe guilt would set in, and he would remember he was married.…

I did enjoy dinner, a big plate of lasagna, and did drink a little too much wine, and afterwards sipped my coffee dreamily and pretended to be a reclusive movie star hiding from the public.

It was dark on the drive back to the house, and snowing again, fat flakes that slid carelessly down the windshield, swept away by the constant flip-flop of the wipers. I was still slightly buzzed from the wine, but not so much that I worried about getting stopped by the police. Why would they stop me? For going too slow?

I watched as an SUV approached from behind and stayed there. I wasn’t used to that. Usually cars passed me on this open road, most of them uncomfortable going the speed limit or below. But it stayed, continuing to follow me. After a while, I slowed even more, encouraging the driver to pass. Finally, I turned on my signal, pretending to make a right turn, then actually made it, though I wasn’t going in that direction. But the car turned, continuing to follow me, and that’s when I started to worry. I made several more turns at random, and still the SUV stayed behind me. Then, at the very last second, risking sliding out, I veered right into someone’s driveway, ready to rush out and go pounding on doors if the vehicle dared slow down. But it didn’t, and I sat there, breathing hard, until a porch light came on and I rolled down my window and shouted to the stranger in the doorway, “Sorry, thought I had a flat tire.”

I backed out and drove the rest of the way home, pulled into the garage and waited for the door to roll completely down before unlocking the Jeep and getting out.

Once inside the house, I locked all the doors, even doors I usually didn’t worry about, and closed all the blinds, then turned on all the outside lights. I carried my cell phone with me and peeked out the windows now and then.

Suddenly the cell phone rang in my hand and I dropped it, then picked it off the floor and answered.

“Hello?” I asked, fearing who might be on the other end.

“I scared you, didn’t I?”

I didn’t know the voice, or did I?

“Who is this?”

“Gwyn, it’s Josh. It’s only Josh.”

“Oh.” I exhaled, my heart pounding out of control. “I didn’t recognize your voice. I’m sorry.”

“I was following you, not on purpose. I was on the road going home and I saw your Jeep, thought it was you anyway, knew it was you after a while. I didn’t mean to scare you. I did scare you, didn’t I?”

“Nothing I won’t live through.”

“God, I’m sorry. It was just such a coincidence. I was thinking of you, thinking of calling you, and there you were.”

“Where are you now?”

“I’m parked outside your house. I knew better than to go in the driveway. Why, are you alone?”

I thought for a second. “Actually, I am. Come on in.”

It occurred to me as I ended the call that he wasn’t supposed to know where I lived.

I unlocked the front door and watched as he drove up the driveway through the falling snow. He was in a green Ford Explorer, though I hadn’t been able to tell that when he was tailing me. The snow had been too thick to see very well.

He had on jeans and a ski jacket, and snowflakes in his hair. He smiled up at me as he climbed the two steps to the brick porch.

“You’re sure I’m not intruding?” he asked.

“Absolutely not.”

He gazed around the entrance. “Wow, some place. What a spectacular house, Gwyn.”

I smiled. “A little better than the one I grew up in.”

“Well, true, but cozy is good too.”

I was glad I hadn’t yet had a chance to get really comfortable with Trevor away. Everything was still neat and clean. “Would you like a cup of coffee? Then I can give you the nickel tour if you want.”

“Sounds good.”

He brushed himself off and I led him into the kitchen. I walked him past the white marble counter tops and antique oak cabinets that went on and on. He nodded his appreciation, then smiled as I pointed out the large brick pass-through fireplace that opened out into the dining room.

“Great kitchen, Gwyn. I like it. Roomy, but tasteful. It looks like you, something you’d like. Is this house custom built?”

“No, but it’s fairly new.” I began making coffee, then reached into a kitchen cabinet for an unopened bag of chocolate chip cookies, poured them onto a plate. I handed it to Josh. He sat down at the table, legs outstretched, and watched while I worked at the counter.