Daddy knows how I feel. He rests a hand on my shoulder. “It’s going to be fine, Kayla,” he says, and I nod. He thinks I just need time. Maybe I do, but I don’t think I will ever be able to live in the house without thinking These are the windows Jackson special-ordered, or This is the quartzite we argued over and Jackson let me win, or This is the color Jackson chose for the foyer.
“A weird thing happened today,” I say, as I dry the last plate. I speak quietly, although Rainie is in the living room and I can hear her giggling over a video she’s watching. I tell him about the red-haired woman and he frowns when I get to the part about her knowing that Jackson died and that we’re about to move into the house in Shadow Ridge.
“Well,” he says, “a lot of that information was in the paper after the accident.”
“I know, but what does it matter to her? Why did she seek me out? Who does she want to kill?”
“Can it just be that she’s crazy and talking through her hat?” he suggests. “Nothing more than that?”
“It’s even scarier to me if she’s crazy,” I say. “If she’s crazy, there’s no way of predicting what she’ll do.”
He smiles at me with the calmness I usually love about him, but which is bugging me at the moment. I want him to take this seriously. “Well,” he says, “I’ll keep my eyes open and my wits about me. And you do the same.”
Chapter 6
ELLIE
1965
We lived in the only house on Hockley Street, on the corner where Hockley intersected with Round Hill Road. Daddy’s father named the street after himself—Amos Hockley—and he and his brother built the house. Hockley Street was the only actual “street” in all of Round Hill. There were plenty of roads and lanes and trails, but my grandfather’d thought “Hockley Street” sounded grand. It was decidedly not grand. It had been a dirt road back when the house was built and it was a dirt road now and probably always would be. But our house was big, whitewashed, with black shutters, a red tin roof, and a wide porch with white rockers, one for each of us, and I always felt rich and proud. Our view from the porch was of the kudzu-choked trees and shrubs across the street. “Beautiful monsters,” Mama called them when I was small and afraid. They rose up from the earth to the sky in the shapes of dragons and dinosaurs. The kudzu didn’t come near our house, so it didn’t bother us and it kept anyone else from building on Hockley Street, which was just the way my family liked it. “We have paradise all to ourselves,” Mama always said.
Our narrow road ended in the deepest, darkest woods anyone could imagine—straight out of a Grimms’ fairy tale—but they didn’t bother us. When Buddy and I were younger, we just about lived in those woods, climbing the trees, playing hide-and-seek, and fishing in the lake. I was shy and had few friends other than Buddy and Mattie, who was our maid Louise’s daughter, a year younger than me. I loved Mattie. She died when I was eleven and Buddy started hanging out with older kids, and I suddenly had no one to play with. For a year, I was on my own, mourning the loss of both Mattie and my brother, but then Brenda Kane and her parents moved to Round Hill and I suddenly had a friend.
Buddy was smart enough to become a pharmacist like our father, who’d hoped his son would be the third generation of pharmacists in the family, but Buddy discovered cars and that was that. Everyone in town depended on him, not just for their cars, but their washing machines and radios and any other gadget they couldn’t get to work right. Once Daddy accepted Buddy for who he was, they grew close. Now they were up in arms together over the idea of a bunch of Yankee kids telling us how to run things down here.
The Sunday after the wedding, Buddy and I strolled up Hockley Street to the woods.
“So how was the wedding?” Buddy asked, putting his arm around me as we walked.
I thought back to the day before and the quiet, sort of sad little wedding at the justice of the peace’s office. Garner had looked nervous, perspiring in a dark suit, and I thought Brenda was going to burst into tears at any moment. She wore a pale blue dress I’d seen her in several times before. Her best, I knew. It was a dress she wouldn’t be able to get into in another week or two. I teared up during the wedding, remembering how she’d paged through the Brides magazine with such longing. She would never wear one of those long lacy wedding gowns. She would never have a string of bridesmaids and groomsmen. Just me as her maid of honor and Reed as Garner’s best man.