Stranger in the House (18 page)

“But you had no way of knowing. Nobody did.”

“I gave up on him, Anna. My own son.” Thomas sighed and bent forward at the waist. He looked away from his wife and held himself around the middle, as if he were going to be sick. “When I see him, I feel so…I don’t know. I feel so guilty—”

“Guilty! Tom!” Anna exclaimed. “You have no reason to feel guilty.”

“I did love him,” he said. “It’s not as if I didn’t.”

“I know that,” she said. “He knows it, too. I’m sure he does. Or he will. It will just take a little time.”

“I hated the way you were always looking for some good sign, finding reasons to hope,” he said.

“I just had to,” she said.

“Sometimes,” he said, “I wanted to scream at you because of it. But how could I? You were the noble one, the one who refused to give up.”

She groped for the words to try to explain it to him. “I didn’t do it to be noble,” she said. “I often thought it was a delusion. But I had to cling to it. I couldn’t have gone on living without hope.”

Thomas reached over and put his hand on hers. They sat quietly at the fountain’s edge. The meshing of their fingers was like a circuit completed. The consolation, the connection in their touch made Anna feel a sudden, fierce desire for him—her husband, her man. She closed her eyes and felt the heat throughout her body. She imagined turning to him, burying her face in the curve of his neck, feeling his hands on her again. She was trying to think of a way to say, “Come home.” And then she realized that “Come home” was all she needed to say. She did not think she could speak aloud. She decided she could manage to say it in a whisper.

Suddenly Thomas released her hand. “That’s not all I have to feel guilty about,” he said quietly.

The portentous note in his voice was an icy bath over her. She sat up straight and stared at him. “What does that mean?”

A pair of lovers who were sitting at the other side of the fountain got up and, arms around each other, began to stroll across the plaza. Thomas watched them walking away.

“Tom?”

“I don’t know how to tell you this. But I have to. I don’t want this secret between us. I’d always be afraid you might accidentally find out.” He licked his lips nervously. “I’ve been…with another woman,” he said.

Anna rocked back on the granite ledge as if he had struck her a blow in the face. In all her concerns for him and for the children, the possibility that he had someone else had never even crossed her mind.

“I don’t know why I did it,” he was saying. “I was feeling lonely and angry at you. I couldn’t talk to you. These are some pretty…miserable excuses, I know.”

“Who is it?” said Anna.

“It doesn’t matter,” said Thomas. “You don’t know her.”

“I see,” said Anna. The young couple had traversed about half the plaza when suddenly the man stepped back and slid his arm around the girl’s waist as he lifted her hand in the air. The girl looked momentarily startled, and then she laughed. The two began to waltz across the plaza, to music of their own devising.

“So that’s why you left us?” said Anna, placing her pocketbook under her arm and sliding off the edge of the fountain to her feet.

Thomas, who had been rubbing his eyes with his hand, looked at her in surprise. Anna was staring at him coldly, a pulse beating visibly in her neck. “No,” he said. “Of course not.”

“Fine,” she said. “I understand now.”

“Wait a minute,” Tom protested. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going home,” she spat out at him. “To my children.”

Tom stepped in front of her and blocked her way, trying to get into her line of sight. “Anna,” he said, “you don’t understand. It happened. Yes. But I don’t intend to continue it. I just felt I had to be honest with you. I’m telling you it was a one-night thing. A mistake. I never meant…I want to come home, to you and the kids.”

Anna brushed by him angrily. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she muttered. She dodged his open arms and started walking quickly across the plaza, passing the dancing lovers, who did not look at her. Anna descended the steps and held up her arm for a taxi. Through the blur of tears she saw the lighted sign of an empty cab getting closer to her.

Thomas approached her side. “I don’t blame you for being angry. But don’t I get another chance?” he asked softly. “After all these years? I was feeling sorry for myself and I acted like a fool. My feelings for you may have wavered for a night, but they didn’t change. Can’t you forgive me?”

Anna glared at him but he stuck out his chin stubbornly.

“I wanted to be honest with you,” he said. “I thought you would be able to forgive me,” he said.

Anna closed her eyes briefly, and then she looked at him. “I can’t take any more right now,” she said.

“We have to talk, Anna. I have to go to Boston tomorrow. I’m not going to be able to think straight for worrying about this.”

“I can’t help that,” she said. “I have to do some thinking myself.” She got into the cab and slammed the door behind her. As the taxi pulled away from the curb, he reached out forlornly, as if to hold on to it, and then the cab disappeared from sight in the tangle of traffic and people.

W
ith anxious, stealthy movements Edward pulled the cellar window closed and crept across the lawn toward his own property, silently cursing the starlight. The sudden blaring of music from inside the house startled him. He stopped for a moment, perspiring profusely, and waited. Then he continued on, his hand wound around the handle of the knife under his shirt.

It had crossed his mind, as he hid behind the doorway, prepared to strike, that he could try to kill them both. He considered it and then decided against it. It was too messy, too dangerous. Still, the rage he had felt when he saw the girl come in with the cat had almost been enough to propel him through the door and into a frenzied attack on the two of them. Everything had been perfectly calculated, and then the stupid girl had ruined it.

Despite his show of restraint, Edward still felt the anger churning inside him at the way his plans had been thwarted. He had been ready. Ready to finish this business. Now he was left with his anger, his frustration. Edward made a wide circle around the back of his house as he headed for the windmill. He could see the blades jutting up black against the night sky, beckoning him. There was still time. He would find a way to do it tomorrow. He tried to keep his mind on that as he skulked along.

Edward reached the door of the windmill and pulled it open. He had imagined himself all day, coming back here, hiding his weapon, and changing his clothes, his business done. If only, he thought, it had been done. If only he had gotten it over with.

Stepping into the cool confines of the windmill, Edward pulled the knife from under his shirt and threw it onto a workbench, where it landed with a clatter. Then he turned back to close the door behind him.

“Edward.”

Edward whirled around, slamming the windmill door shut, his face drained of color. Standing in the shadows beneath the loft, kneading her hands together and smiling tremulously at him, was Iris.

“Iris, what are you doing here?” he demanded in a shout. His whole body was shaking, his eyes bulging at the sight of her.

“I’m…I’m sorry,” said Iris, recoiling at his outburst. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Edward stared at her, his mind racing. The thought that he might have walked into the windmill covered with blood and been surprised by her filled him with a terror that left him speechless. It didn’t happen, he reminded himself. She didn’t see anything. He tried to calm his pounding heart with that thought, but he was still unable to speak, his eyes glued to her puzzled face.

“I thought you’d be here when I got back. Then, when you weren’t, I just waited.”

Edward shook his head as if he didn’t understand, not trusting his voice.

“Where were you?” she asked. “Why did you have that knife?”

His natural impulse was to scream at her, to drive her from the windmill with a shaking fist. But he knew instinctively that she would only wonder more about what he had been doing.

“Whatever were you doing out there with a knife?” Iris asked. “Did you hear something outside?”

Edward looked at her with a sudden sense of relief. That was it. She had provided his excuse. “Yes,” he said. “I thought I did. I thought I heard a prowler. So I picked up this knife and went out to look. That’s…that’s why it startled me so to find you here. For a second I thought that whoever it was had sneaked in here.” Sweat was dripping from his forehead now, but he knew that he was safe. She was looking at him with anxious, sympathetic eyes.

“Did you see anyone out there?” Iris asked.

“No, no,” said Edward finally, collapsing against the counter. “Nothing. It must just have been the wind. Or my imagination.”

“I don’t know, Edward. Maybe we should call the police.”

“That’s hardly necessary,” he said. “I’m sure it was nothing.”

Iris had another thought. “Paul!” she exclaimed. “He’s all alone over there.”

“I told you. There was no one outside.”

“Perhaps we should call and check.”

“Iris,” Edward demanded, “What are you doing here? I thought you went to the spa.”

It was Iris’s turn to look first surprised and then uneasy. “Well, I was on my way,” she said. “And then I came back. I’d been wanting to talk to you, and I thought I’d come back.”

“Why didn’t you just phone me?” he asked, as if it were the obvious solution that only the simpleminded would overlook.

Iris bit her lip nervously. “I thought we should talk in person. Edward, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about us…about our marriage.”

Edward tried to stifle the disgust that rose in him at her words. She wants to talk about our marriage now. It was almost laughable. He knew right away what had caused this crisis. Anna was having problems with her marriage, so naturally Iris had to jump on the bandwagon. Monkey see, monkey do. He assumed a long-suffering expression and stared at her. “Iris, what are you talking about?”

“This is so hard to say,” Iris continued, looking pained and almost fearful as she spoke. “I don’t think I am really making you happy anymore. If I ever did. You deserve a wife who can be the way you want her to be.”

Edward could scarcely believe his ears. The incongruity of her earnest confession made him feel almost amused, but he kept his expression grave. The trembling in his body had subsided by now, and he could barely concentrate on her words for the relief he felt for his narrow escape. All he wanted to do was to get rid of her, propel her back onto the road toward her spa, and sit down to plan his next move.

“Iris,” he said, “is this really the time and the place to discuss this? Can’t it wait until you get back?”

“I suppose it could,” said Iris miserably. “I’m just…”

“I’m tired,” said Edward. “I was looking forward to a peaceful evening, working in the windmill.”

“But I feel sometimes that you would be better off without me,” Iris blurted out.

Edward looked at her with an expression of amazement, as one would at a display of exceptionally bad manners. “I haven’t complained about our marriage,” he said coolly. “Why must you bring this up now? Must I spend my life reassuring you that your position as my wife is secure? I think that shows a rather pitiable lack of self-confidence, Iris. I am satisfied with our marriage. I see no reason for you to doubt that.”

Iris sighed, and her shoulders slumped. “I suppose you’re right,” she said.

“Why don’t you get along now, so that you can arrive at the spa before it is too late? It’s not a good idea to be driving late at night. Go ahead, and don’t worry anymore about this. As far as I am concerned, everything between us is as it always has been.”

Iris sighed again, and nodded, and walked toward the door of the windmill.

“Shall I accompany you to your car?” he asked.

“That’s not necessary,” said Iris.

“I think I had better,” said Edward smoothly. “I’m still a little apprehensive, even though the noises turned out to be nothing. Watch your step in the dark,” he called to her as he followed her out the door.

The soulful singing of Alicia Keys greeted Anna as she opened the door to the house and walked in. She saw Tracy’s jacket draped on one of the dining room chairs. Home early, Anna thought. She had not seen any lights on upstairs as she came up to the house. She walked over to the door that led down to the playroom.

“I’m home,” she called out.

“Hi…” The voices of both of her children floated back up the stairs. Anna raised her eyebrows in surprise and then smiled. She walked over to the refrigerator and opened the door. There was an open bottle of club soda on the shelf. She pulled out the bottle and poured herself a glass.

As she sipped it, she thought about her meeting with Tom. All the way home on the train she had gone over it again and again. He had slept with another woman. She wondered if there were signs she might have noticed, if she hadn’t been so preoccupied with Paul. If she had been paying attention to him.

The worst part was the thought of him in bed, in someone else’s arms. Probably someone who had no lines around her eyes or gray hairs. Someone whose body was trim and taut and very willing. It made Anna’s face flame to think about it.

A warm swish, like a feather duster across her calves, made Anna jump and let out a little shriek. She looked down and saw Paul’s cat, rubbing against her legs. Anna quickly bent over and picked him up.

“Sam!” she exclaimed. “Where’d you come from?” Anna went to the top of the stairs and thought of calling down. But the volume of the music discouraged her. She started down the stairs, carefully cradling the cat in her arms.

At the foot of the stairs she stopped, surprised by what she saw. Tracy and Paul were sprawled on the round braided rug, each studying a hand of cards.

“Ten,” said the boy, laying down a jack.

“Twenty, for two,” Tracy announced, savoring the move as she matched his jack with her own.

“Hey,” said Anna, “look who I found.” She held up the cat for their inspection.

Paul looked up and smiled with such unexpected sweetness that Anna drew in her breath. It was as if, for a moment, she had glimpsed her lost toddler again.

“Tracy brought him,” said Paul. “He came back to the animal shelter.”

Anna smiled into the cat’s furry coat. “Welcome home, Sam.”

“What did Daddy say?” Tracy asked, her gaze glued to her cards.

“Well.” Anna hesitated. “He sends his love. To both of you,” she added pointedly.

Paul lifted his arms for the cat, and Anna placed the animal into them. The boy began to stroke the fur.

“Come on,” said Tracy. “Play.”

Still holding the cat under his arm, Paul reached into his hand and put down another card. “Twenty-six,” he said.

Tracy glanced from the card to her hand, her fingers hovering above the fan of cards.

Anna wrapped her arms around herself and watched their game. She wished that Thomas could see them at this moment. She dropped down on the daybed, to be closer to them. “All quiet around here?” she asked.

“Yeah,” said Paul.

“So, what else did Daddy say?” Tracy asked, playing another card. “Is he coming home?”

“I don’t know,” said Anna. She laid her head back against the sofa and gazed out across the room. I wish I could say yes, she thought. “I hope so,” she added, surprised to realize that it was true. She turned her head from side to side, trying to release the tension that had built up in the back of her neck. As she rolled her head around, she noticed that the door to the basement was not completely shut. With a sigh she got up and went over to close it.

“Who left this open?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” said Tracy. “That’s six,” she corrected Paul, pointing to his cards.

“Did you, Paul?”

The boy looked up. “Not me.”

For a moment she hesitated, and then she pushed the door open farther and walked slowly into the dark cellar. Skirting the boxes and old pieces of furniture, she walked over and pulled the light chain in the center of the space. Despite the bulb’s illumination, the corners remained gloomy, while the rest of the basement’s jumble of contents was illuminated. Maybe I didn’t shut that door tightly, Anna thought. She glanced around at the once useful junk that was stored in the damp cellar. I’ve got to clean this out one day, she thought wearily. She reached up to pull the light bulb chain again, and as she did so, her gaze rested on the window.

One of the cafe-length curtains which she had made to cover the low windows was caught, partially trapped between the closed window and the frame. The twisted material ballooned out awkwardly. Anna walked over and touched the curtain. Then her fingers traveled to the latch, which was unfastened.

Anna felt her heart thud as she stared from the open latch to the snagged curtain. In a sharp voice she called out, “Who opened this basement window?”

“Can’t hear you,” Tracy called back over the sound of the music on the CD player.

Anna backed away from the window, her eyes focused on the captive curtain. Halfway across the basement she turned and hurried toward the light of the playroom.

Paul looked up, holding a card poised to drop between his fingers. “What’s the matter?” he asked. Tracy, who was hunched over one bent, upright knee, turned and looked at her mother.

Anna stood stiffly in the doorway, staring at her children. “Did either of you open the cellar window?”

The two shook their heads in unison. “Why?” Tracy asked.

“Did you hear anyone outside there?” Anna asked. “Either of you?”

“No,” said Tracy impatiently.

Paul frowned for a moment and then shrugged his shoulders.

“Paul?” Anna asked.

Anna stared at him, trying to remember when she had last checked that window, knowing that she had locked it when Paul came home and not opened it since.

“Maybe Daddy opened it,” Tracy offered.

Anna looked at her daughter and considered the suggestion. “Maybe,” she said. Anna nodded, wanting to reassure them, to convince them they were safe and had nothing to fear. As she watched them resume their card game, she knew that they really weren’t fearful. They were young, and never thought in terms of what could happen.

She shivered, worrying over the open window. It was probably Tom. It probably was. But she felt vulnerable all the same. You could not be too careful. Not where your children were concerned. That is one thing, she thought, I know for sure.

Iris tapped tentatively on the door with the
CLOSED
sign visible behind the panes. In a few minutes she heard movement, and then the door was thrown open by a woman with short brown hair, wearing blue jeans covered with gray dust. Long silver earrings with turquoise stones dangled below her curly hair. The woman’s dark eyes softened when she saw Iris, and she smiled to reveal a gap between her front teeth.

“Are you working?” Iris asked timidly.

“Just firing a few pots. Come in.” The woman stepped back, and Iris entered the studio. Coils of clay and chalky looking pots occupied the countertops. A potter’s wheel sat in the center of the room, while two black kilns took up most of the back wall. The room seemed to have been dusted with a soft gray powder.