Inside the house?
The same person who left the dates at the store?
I crept down the hall into the living room—nothing appeared disturbed. Nor in the dining room or small office downstairs. I now stood at the base of the staircase and proceeded up the stairs. I took one step and then stopped, listening again. Was that something? A shuffle of some sort? My heart hammering, I stood still for a few more minutes, but no more sound came. I moved up the stairs slowly, gripping the rich walnut handrail.
I tried to tread as carefully as possible. The stairs showed their age, and it seemed as if each one had a particular squeak. I maintained my breathing and pussyfooted up the stairs, still listening. For what, I wasn’t sure, but something was here.
Something that should not be here.
Or someone.
I finally reached the top of the stairs and walked down the hall to the master bedroom, first peeking into the hall bathroom, where luckily the shower curtain was opened because I had been cleaning in there earlier. Nothing unusual there.
Our bedroom door was closed. I stared at the doorknob; I was certain it was open when I went downstairs earlier. We rarely, if ever, closed the bedroom door. Why would we? Archie and I were the only ones who lived here. I gripped the doorknob and turned.
The clock by the side of our bed ticked loudly. Louder than I had ever realized: How hadn’t I noticed its intensity before? Then again, the room had never seemed so quiet as it did in this moment. Our bed, a king-size sleigh style, dominated the room and was neatly made up in bright blue wedding ring quilt and matching pillow shams. I looked at the gray wingback chair to the side, at our nightstands, each with a creamy white pedestal lamp, and my bureau with a decorative mirror and wide shelf that housed my perfumes, jewelry box and assorted framed photos of myself and Archie, and at a tall dresser on Archie’s side—nothing looked out of place. My gaze fell on my vanity table by the window, filled with makeup, moisturizers, and hair items. Lying in the center of the table was a necklace. A remembrance of long ago. Something that had not been in my jewelry box, but wrapped in a small bag, buried in an old shoebox in my closet with other mementos of the past. I should have thrown it away.
A turquoise necklace.
I’d searched the entire house, barn and garage, but the intruder was nowhere to be found, finished with their task of the day I supposed. Nerves trickled through me for the rest of the day and mounted inside me so much I felt as if I was going to have a panic attack. It had to be Brother Jim. Who else would have a reason to seek me out? I remembered how scared I’d been when I’d first fled Listening Lark, thinking that he would catch up with me. As more and more time had passed I had relaxed. Clearly that was a mistake. But how had he found me? And why play these cat and mouse games with me now? The man I remembered was someone who confronted people directly, not by leaving creepy reminders. None of this made any sense.
I had composed myself by the time Archie arrived home. He didn’t know about this part of my past, and I didn’t ever want him to know. How would I even start explaining everything to him? What would he think of me if he knew all the truths of my past? I didn’t want to take that chance. One bit of mantra from Listening Lark I kept alive was the stance of living in the here and now. Archie didn’t need to know about my past; it had no bearing on our lives now, despite this strange intrusion. No, I would handle whatever was going on. I wouldn’t drag my loving Archie into it. I knew he’d do anything to protect me, and I appreciated the sentiment, but I could take care of myself. I’d been doing it for years.
I was toiling in the garden, picking green beans, when he arrived home. The sun stood high in the sky; I should have waited for evening shade to pick but I needed to keep busy.
Archie walked out the back door in his swimming trunks, wearing sunglasses. He spotted me in my cut-off denim overalls and wide-brimmed sun hat, squatting down, hurriedly picking beans and adding them to the basket I held.
“Hey, it’s too hot for that,” he called. “Come swimming with me.”
Just the sight of him was enough to start to calm my racing heart. “Okay,” I replied, my smile genuine. “I’ll just finish this row and I’ll put my suit on.”
“You don’t need a suit,” he said.
“You’re wearing one,” I said, laughing.
“Not for long.” He jumped into the pool and threw his suit on the side.
I left the basket full of beans in the dirt and joined my naked husband in the pool.
This was the exact distraction I needed.
ELEVEN2023
Aimee
Poplin Elementary School was a large tan brick building with a bright red roof. Well-manicured green shrubbery nestled in dark mulch filled the flowerbeds, and bright red geraniums stood in an elegant row in front. Archie and I parked in the back parking lot and entered through the side door. A few other teachers and staff, including Robin, also headed in.
“Ooh, Aimee. I’m so glad you’re here,” she said, her arms full of tote bags stuffed with random items. “Would you help me set up my back bulletin board before you help Archie? I’m doing a movie theme this year. I already did one board with the students’ names, but I still have to do our best work board. Please help me!”
I laughed. “I guess I can for a bit.” I turned to Archie. “You’ll be on your own for a while, babe.”
He smiled as we walked down the hall, its floor gleaming from the summer deep clean. “I think I’ll manage.”
“Are you doing a movie theme for your classroom, too?” I asked.
“No, I’m doing a camping theme,” he said. “Remember all that stuff I ordered?”
“I knew it was for school, but we didn’t open anything, so I wasn’t sure exactly what it was,” I replied. “Camping theme sounds fun.”
“Yeah, I brought it all here yesterday, so you have fun in Robin’s room and come over when you’re done.” He opened his classroom door and disappeared inside.
“Yay.” Robin grabbed my hand, pulling me into her classroom, across the hall.
The student desks were neatly arranged, five rows, four desks to a row. Each desk had a student’s name written on a long pencil design sticker in neat cursive writing. One kidney-shaped table sat in the back of the room stacked with assorted papers, bags, and books. The back wall was lined with student cubbies and coat hooks. To the left was a long table stacked four high with small compartments, marked iPad Station on a bright yellow sign on the wall above.
“I can’t believe it’s only three weeks until the first day of school,” Robin remarked, dumping her bag on her desk at the front of the room, by the sink and water fountain. A large poster hung above the sink stating, Nut-Free Zone. “And Back-to-School Night is only two weeks away. We have to be ready by then.”
“That’s what Archie keeps telling me.” I pointed to the poster. “Do you have students with nut allergies this year?”
“Oh, not this year, but it’s always a nut-free zone in my room,” she said. “I have a severe allergy.”
“Oh, wow. That can be very serious.”
“Yes, but I’m used to it; I always have an EpiPen near me,” she replied.
“That’s wise.” I smiled at her brightly. “So, what do you want me to do?”
“First, let’s get some candy bars from the lunchroom,” she said, digging change from her purse. “My treat.”
