Another Stab at Life Read online

  On the wall to my right, I saw a lone closet door. Cringing at the thought of what might be behind closed doors, I yanked it open in one swift motion. I discovered the fast-pull method was better on creaky doors than the maddeningly slow kind that allows for an unnecessary build-up of nervous heart palpitations.

  The closet appeared empty except for a three-legged table. As I reached for it, I bumped the edge, causing it to fall against the back of the closet. Even the bang against the wall sounded unnatural and lonely. I quickly shook myself free of those musings and carried the table over to the bed to use as a nightstand. I then opened my suitcase to set up my tiny world.

  First, I rolled out a blanket and then pulled out a small pillow from my suitcase—the one with my favorite chubby cherub pillowcase. The floor would be unforgiving on the bones of a thirty-year-old woman, but I felt so tired, I could probably get to sleep on a bed of finely sharpened pencils. Pointed up. I lifted out a small marble clock of Granny’s as well as her favorite Bible and a small sack of seeds from her garden. Then I took out the framed photos of my parents and one of Granny. I traced their faces with my fingers.

  I touched the diamond necklace around my neck. A gift from Granny just to say she loved me and was proud of me. I will never sell this necklace, even if I have to eat tuna for the rest of my life. And tuna and I hadn’t been on eating terms in years.

  Gazing into my suitcase, I pulled out a small stack of mystery novels and then my lovely music box. Hand-carved mahogany with inlaid gold. The name of its sweet tune was unknown to me, but the melody always transported me to a peaceful and whimsical place. Fairies came to life in magical grasses deep in the woods of my imagination. It was a place where the child in me could go and play without worry or regret.

  Even though my melodious box always coaxed a smile from me, all I could muster tonight was a sigh. “Oh, Granny, I miss you.”

  Yes, she’d been such a sweet riot, but I’d loved what my mom had always said about her. “Your granny is very special,” she’d say with a wink. “She’s full of angel stuffings.” I remembered that when Granny’s heart stopped beating, the sun went behind the clouds that day and stayed there, as if all the earth had mourned her passing, too.

  I wound up the key to let the notes play again. My stomach emitted an angry rumble. I looked down. There sat my last chocolate treat, the one that camouflaged itself as a power-protein bar. On tearing open the wrapper, I could see it had entered the liquefy- and-flow stage. So instead of munching, my tongue sort of licked its way around the paper. Oh well. What else could go wrong? I’d covered about everything.

  I gave the key on the music box a few more twists. Its tinkling melody consumed some of the loneliness of the house. Fortunately, the thunder had gone off to terrorize someone else, and so except for sputtering rain, the night had quieted itself. When my music box wound down, I suddenly noticed the drip again. Splat. Spit. Splat. Like some kind of water torture. Okay, so how am I going to sleep? I stuffed in a pair of foam earplugs I’d kept in my purse. Silence filled my head. Good. Now I wouldn’t have to set up my belongings in another room.

  Out of the blue, I remembered Granny Minna tell- ing me about her most potent nightmare. In fact, she talked about it often. In her dream, she’d be trapped in a vacant house, and the only way out was through a spider-lined passage. In fact, that passage had been in the closet of the master bedroom in an old house not unlike this one. But what always made Granny’s eyes twinkle was when she told of the treasure that was hidden inside. Then she’d always give me an exaggerated wink.

  At that moment a wild thought flitted across my brain. I had indeed heard a strange and hollow sound when the night table bumped the back of the closet. My imagination had obviously taken on heights of screenplay proportions. “But what if Granny had repeated those stories to me for a reason?”

  4 – Rodential Qualities

  What a hoot. I laughed out loud in my now muffled, plugged-up world. Enough fictional nonsense. I closed the bedroom door to keep out any stray bats and settled down onto my makeshift bed. I suppose I needed to wash my face and clean up for the night, but my body gave me the thumbs down. So, I closed my eyes and waited for any drowsy sensations. None came. None at all. I thought maybe making a mental to-do list might help me. Get cleaning supplies and an air mattress tomorrow. Buy peanut butter, bread, baby carrots, apples, and milk. Just enough money left to live on while finding a job. Oh, and I needed to locate a nearby Laundromat until I could afford a washer and dryer. Okay, not sleepy yet.

  Like flipping pancakes, I tried my usual tossing and turning, but every movement felt painful against the unforgiving floor. Surely exhaustion would force me to sleep. I waited again. Nothing. The thumping of my heart seemed to be more noticeable now. Oh great. My own heartbeat was going to keep me awake.

  After a few minutes of scanning the floor for rodential qualities and trying to get my mind off the person who’d presented me with a dead cat, my muscles finally relaxed. I began to drift into that land of drawbridges, where the brain lowers its defenses and escorts in a whole motley crew of fantasies and fears.

  I could see the sleepies riding in on horses. They waved at me as they passed by. Then somewhere deep inside I heard an echoing, like someone lost in a cave calling for help. The word “hollow” rose and fell in the air. Was I hollow? What did it mean? Did I say the words out loud? Or was someone else talking?

  Oh, to float in that state of half-awareness and drifty bliss. Where was I? Something touched my face. Bat wings? God help me. My eyes squinted open. Why had the room gotten so bright? Light everywhere. Where am I? Who am I?

  A human in a fairy costume shook my arm. “Dear heart, I see you breathing. But you’re scaring me. Are you okay? Wake up.”

  Real words from a real person! My mind jolted to attention. I forced my eyes open and saw a big face in my face. My lungs upchucked a scream. A really loud one. The kind of scream you hear in movies when they film from a distance as flocks of birds flutter away. Then the scream fills the atmosphere. The earth stops its rotation. And the whole audience cringes.

  The big face jumped back and let out a big noise that sounded just like mine. Then I screamed again. I knew who I was and where I was now, so I yanked out my earplugs. “Who are you?” I asked a little more sharply than intended.

  The face—that of a woman—stared at me as if not knowing whether to talk or laugh. “Hi. I’m Dedra Morgan. Guess we got into a screaming jag there. Are you okay?” The brown-eyed woman leaned down and fanned my face. “I thought maybe you were dead. We had that happen about a year ago in this neighborhood. A woman several doors down died in her home because nobody was watching out for her. Now we’re all a little overprotective. Sorry.”

  Was that brown-eyed woman still talking? I sat up against the bed and groaned. “I don’t think I’m dead.” I rubbed my neck and stretched my aching back. “But you scared me, too.”

  “Sorry about that. I mean no harm,” Dedra said stiffly, like an alien who had just landed. “I’m just a neighbor.” She stood tall, giving me the scout’s honor sign.

  For a moment, I ignored the uninvited stranger and concentrated on my ailing body. “I feel like I’ve been asleep for years.” I considered her words. “Why did you think I might be dead?”

  “Well, it’s noon, and when you didn’t come to the door, I got worried. And then when I saw you here on the floor, I called your name and you didn’t move. At all. Must have been the earplugs,” Dedra said.

  “I must have slept on my arm. Oww.” In fact, my arm felt as though it’d been attached to somebody else’s body. I kept slapping it, trying to get the blood pumping again. My flesh came alive as if bitten by a million chomping ants. After a groan, I considered the bizarreness of the situation. “Do you mind if I ask how you got in?”

  Dedra chuckled and flipped her long black curls over her shoulder. “Oh that. Max gave me a key. We wanted to make sure you were okay. I’m sorry for scaring you. And I r
ealize barging in like this is really not kosher, but one gets an imagination concerning this house.”

  “And why’s that?” I asked, wondering what kind of house I’d really inherited.

  “Nothing too sinister.” Dedra raised her hands. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

  I rubbed my eyes and wiped my sweaty bangs off my forehead. Noon. I had so much stuff I needed to do today. I think my brain had sidestepped some bit of information. Yes! “You mean Max. . .Sumner actually gave you a key?” I couldn’t believe it. The nerve. I wondered how many copies he’d passed out before he gave it back to me. Apparently this Max character wasn’t going to give up easily. I should be angry, but I felt too knocked out of sync to know for sure what to do next. I dropped the earplugs onto the table. “I don’t usually wear these at night, but there was a pesky drip in here.”

  “Yeah. It’s a really old house, but it’s a good one. Worth keeping and fixing up. Max says so, and he knows houses.” Dedra touched the decorative trim around the door and sighed. “Yes, lots of character. Hey, how about some coffee?”

  “You brought me coffee? You don’t even know me.” “No, but a neighbor can do that for another neighbor.

  I live next door. I have the beige house with the green shutters.”

  “I’m afraid I didn’t notice too much last night. I was a zombie.”

  Dedra handed me one of the steaming coffees from the table. “Cream, no sugar. Just the way you like it.”

  “Yeah. I guess this is the way I like it. But how did you know?” People around here seem to know more about me than I do.

  “Max told me,” Dedra said.

  “I feel like I’m still dreaming. I only just met this Max guy last night, so how would he—”

  “Max is an exceptional kind of guy. He notices a lot even when you think he’s not paying attention. Most men do just the opposite. They pretend to listen, and then later you realize they don’t have a clue about what you said.”

  “Sorry, I’m still confused here,” I said. “It was late last night, and believe me, I didn’t talk coffee with Max Sumner. So how—”

  “Well, Max found out somehow.” Dedra shrugged her shoulders and drank from her cup. “That’s sooo good. Really hits the spot, doesn’t it?”

  I turned the smooth cup around to the tiny spout. The coffee aroma teased my senses, so I sipped on my beverage even though our little soiree seemed pretty weird. But considering the delicious scent wafting from the cup, I guess I would have accepted it from the hand of Dr. Jekyll. After a couple of silent swigs, I said, “Wait a minute. I still feel like I’m missing something here. How do you know Max?”

  “Max and I dated for a while. . .years ago. It didn’t work out.” Dedra’s slender figure glided to the floor as her frothy skirt billowed around her in gentle waves. She adjusted her denim vest and settled down into a comfortable position as if she were staying for a good long spell. “I think Max is marvelous in every way. But I can tell he just wants to be friends.” She smiled. “It’s okay. I’ve learned to deal with it.”

  Even though Dedra was grinning, there was some- thing else lingering in her expression. She must still have feelings for Max. I hadn’t even been in my house one full day, and I was already embroiled in the personal travails of the neighbors. Oh brother. And I still didn’t feel okay with my new neighbor popping over with her key to my house. I took another sip of the steaming coffee to calm down. “This is good. Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. By the way, you have a red spot on your forehead. Are you okay? It looks kind of swollen. Do you need some first-aid? I’ve got a few supplies at the house.”

  I touched my bump. “Oww. Yeah, it’s still sore, but I’ll live. I bumped my head on the railing last night. But I think my back is in a lot worse shape for sleeping on the floor.”

  “I have an air mattress and some sheets you can borrow until you get all set up. By the way, Max told me some about your grandmother and this house.”

  I wondered who else Max had told.

  Dedra prattled on about this and that as if she were holding a conversation with herself.

  My mind drifted.

  Dedra went on chatting while she twiddled with her frothy peasant sleeves. “My two dearest friends moved away this year. I’m in need of a friend. You seem about my age. Maybe thirty.”

  Good guess. She paused to wait for my response, so

  I nodded.

  “Perhaps this is an unexpected blessing. . .you moving here.”

  Did this woman expect me to gush? We’d barely met. I started to feel a little pressed in, so I didn’t respond to her comment.

  Dedra played with her long Roaring-’20s-style strand of pearls while we sat in silence.

  “I don’t know what to say,” I finally said. “I’m just so used to doing stuff solo.”

  Dedra smiled. The black curly hair that framed her oval face made her look cherublike. But angel or not, I knew she’d be the clingy type. I’d seen them before. And I didn’t cope well with people like that. Still, I didn’t want to come off like a total social misfit. “We’ll see how it goes.” Then I thought of the package from the previous night. “I was just wondering something, Dedra. How do you feel about. . .cats?” I felt a stab of guilt once the words had escaped my mouth.

  “That was kind of random.” Dedra’s eyebrows came together. “Why would you ask me that?”

  “Never mind.” I shook my head. “Sorry.” The idea of this woman calculatingly suffocating a cat seemed ludicrous. And yet she did have a key.

  Dedra shrugged. “I’ll see ya later, gator.” She twirled out the door.” Then she popped her head back in. “By the way, two things. Just before I shook you awake, you said the word hollow. Should that mean anything? And in case no one told you, your house has a name. Volstead Manor. It’s probably the name of the people who built it ages ago.” Before I could say anything, she headed down the hall in her thin rubber shoes, flip-flapping all the way.

  I sat there stupefied. Volstead Manor. Why did that name sound faintly familiar? Hmm. Then I remembered I should have asked Dedra for my house key back. Oh well. I’m sure she’ll be back.

  I wound up my music box for company. Tiny notes cheered the air as the word Volstead danced around in my head.

  I tasted the coffee again. Some kind of rich, dark blend. Mmm. But in spite of the coffee, the facts still stormed around me—a female cyclone named Dedra had just blown into my house with her own personal key to my world, and a man whom I didn’t know had made it his business to manipulate my life. Oh, and some maniac was trying to force me out of my house. Not a good start to a quiet life in Houston, eh, Bailey?

  As the caffeine cleared the cobwebs out of my head, my plan unfolded on how to extricate myself from the claustrophobic and potentially dangerous situation I’d found myself in. First, I would be watchful with Dedra. Not because she was a cat killer, but because I wasn’t ready for any close friendships. She certainly seemed nice, but I knew how the story would go. There’d be the pajama-party giddy phase with the plethora of gooey feelings, praises, sharpened listening skills, fresh humor, cute girly cards, and a bonding of such hyperbolic proportions it would blow all reality out of the water.

  I took another slurp of my coffee and wondered why relationships always seem to have the same pattern. Maybe expectations were just too high. Yes, that was it. People try, but life gets messy and tedious. People change. Relationships get trampled. And then other times, irritations build up like smelly cigarette butts in an ashtray. Not very appealing.

  Back to my plan. Second, I would deal with Max the same way. Approach with caution. Third, I would bury the poor kitty, fix the back door, and look for any traces that might lead to the person who’d broken into my house. A solid plan always made me feel in control again.

  I dragged myself off the floor into an upright position. I didn’t know I had that many muscles to throb. This is misery. I’m also going to buy an air mattress. I don’t need to borrow De
dra’s things. I need my own stuff.

  I tried to take another drink of my beverage, but realized my cup was empty. Made me think of what Dedra mentioned. I’d said the word hollow. Did I dream about something hollow? I flicked my fingers in rapid fire to help me think. Of course. How could I forget? Granny’s nightmare. I was going to check out that hollow sound inside the closet. I’ll give myself one more childish indulgence before I face the music.

  Trying not to get too excited, I sashayed into the closet with the flashlight in hand. I picked up my shoe and tapped the heel along the wainscoting. How odd. Who puts oak wainscoting inside a closet? A little over the top. Okay, concentrate, Bailey. Tap, tap, tap. Solid. Moving along. Tap, tap, tap. Solid. Tap. Something else. Like a vacant sound. I’d been right. Forget the whys and the debutante attitude, Bailey. Just go for it. I hammered the area with my heel and ran my hands along the trim with more enthusiasm. Sure enough, one large square area echoed a different sound from the rest of the wall.

  As I paid more attention to the trim board along the top of the wainscoting, I noticed it wasn’t continuous. There were breaks that outlined a section of wood that appeared to be about three-feet by three-feet. My hands perspired as my heart rate increased.

  I tugged up on the lacquered trim with my finger- tips. Nothing budged. My shoulders sagged. What in the world was I doing? Chasing silly notions like an adolescent when I had much more important things to do? But somehow I couldn’t give up. I dried the sweat from my hands and got a firmer grip on the edge. Nothing. I pounded on the trim in case it needed some loosening up. I yanked again. Just as I began to wallow in some shame, I heard a noise. A slight movement, like wood settling back on wood. I must have dislodged something. With renewed vigor, I grabbed under the trim again, straining my poor fingers and wrists until they ached.

  A square section of the boards suddenly lifted up like a sliding door. When it rolled all the way up, it locked into place with a pronounced thud. Wow. Certainly a more sophisticated system than I’d ever imagined.