The After House (8 page)

“Count me in. My friend Molly just found out she’s pregnant. She’ll want to be included.”

“Molly Valenti? The real estate broker? She’s already enrolled.”

“You know Molly? She’s my husband’s partner. Small world.” They laughed. “I love your name: Remy. It’s unusual.”

“Not if your conception is due to a bottle of Remy Martin.”

Ellie chuckled, looked at the teenager, and then said in a stage whisper. “I guess this baby ought to be called Dirty Martinis.” She paused. “Drop off some flyers. I’ll make sure my husband puts them in his office, and I’ll leave them in the dance studio. You should pick up a lot of traffic there.”

“I love this town. Everyone’s been so nice.”

She collected Olivia, promising they would return for a trip to the mall together the following week. She liked Ellie Russo. She loved the steamy kitchen and the sounds of children shrieking as they ran through the halls of the house. It was a mess of shoes, book bags, toys—a big, welcoming mess. It was a home.

She thought about the neat cottage and wondered what she could do to make it warmer for Olivia. She wanted her daughter to feel more comfortable in their home. Maybe they should start a collection, like perfume
bottles. They could shop together. She brought it up to Olivia, who answered her absently.

“Did you have fun at your father’s? She didn’t braid your hair again, did she?”

Olivia shook her head. “Mom,” Olivia said after a long moment. “How come you don’t call him Daddy anymore?”

“What?” Remy glanced at her daughter in the backseat. She lowered the news, which was droning on the radio. “What do you mean?”

“You used to call Daddy ‘Daddy,’ but now you just call him your father.” Olivia paused. “And you say it mean.”

“I’m sorry, honey. I guess I don’t know. I think I’m still a little bit mad at your fa…at Daddy.”

“Yeah. Two mads make kay-os, and then there’s lots of fights. Can’t have two mads,” Olivia said in a rush.

“Well, you might be right, Olivia. Chaos would be a bad thing.” She bit back a laugh. Remy thought for a minute. She didn’t want Olivia caught in her battle. Olivia loved her father and had been dealt a low blow by the circumstances. Remy had no intention of dragging her into their fight. “So did you have fun at Daddy’s?”

Olivia shrugged. “It was OK. I played with Evan.”

Evan was her new baby brother.

Remy opened her eyes wide, hoping they wouldn’t tear up. She didn’t know if she’d ever be able to give her daughter another sibling. “What did you eat there?”

“Priscilla made meatballs.” Olivia glanced up at her mother’s face and spoke in earnest. “They weren’t as good as yours.”

Remy’s eyes stung with those dreaded tears, but she smiled brightly at her daughter. Olivia turned her head to the window.

“Anything wrong?” Remy asked.

“No.” Olivia stared outside at the scenery as they drove.

She was very quiet, too pensive.

“Did you have fun at Stella’s?”

Olivia nodded.

“What did you do?” Remy thought that if her daughter gave her another one-word answer, she’d scream.

After a long sigh, Olivia said, “We talked.”

“Talked,” Remy repeated. “What did you talk about to Stella?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? Did you play a game? What does she like? Did you have fun?”

“We talked about boys,” Olivia said impatiently.

“Boys?” Remy echoed with shock as she looked intently at her daughter in the rearview mirror. “What could they have to say about boys,” she wondered. She started to ask Olivia, but her daughter interrupted her.

“Mom, why do boys always want to ruin stuff ?”

Remy opened her mouth but couldn’t find words.

“You don’t know either?” Olivia asked.

Remy giggled, then said, “I think they do things to get attention. Boys do things to girls because they like them, and that’s the way they get the girls to notice them. Did a boy do something to you?”

“No. Does that mean that Daddy wants you to notice him?”

Remy’s tongue froze in her mouth. “I just don’t know what your father wanted, Livie.” She needed to change the subject. “I made pudding. You want pudding after dinner?”

The rest of the ride was in thoughtful silence. Remy worried her bottom lip.

Remy parked the car behind the house in its spot. They made a mad dash for the door, the freezing snow crunching under their feet. Olivia looked up, awed by the black-velvet night sky dotted with sparkling pinpoints of light.

“Mom, look!”

They watched a shooting star arcing across the darkness, leaving a cosmic trail of silver.

“Make a wish,” Remy urged. She watched her daughter’s pale face look up, wondering what her heart was hoping for. “What was your wish?”

They held hands as they trudged through the snow toward the kitchen door. “Can’t tell. If I do, it won’t come true.” Olivia wanted this wish to come true. She didn’t know how it could, but she just wanted her mommy to smile more. Clouds of frost appeared before her tiny mouth. Remy helped her up the three icy stone steps to the back door. She reminded herself she’d have to pick up salt in the hardware store, as she climbed carefully.

Remy slid off her glove to unlock the door. The house was completely dark. She touched the switch at the entrance, but the lights didn’t work. It was as cold as it
was dark. Their breaths froze in the night air before them. Remy bent down, holding Olivia by the shoulders and peering directly into her eyes to make sure she understood.

“Wait here. Don’t move until I come back for you.”

She entered the room, her hands freezing. The heat was off. This was crazy. The floor was littered with broken shards of glass that glistened in the light of the full moon that glowed through the window. Remy used her cell phone to light the way to the breaker board in the hallway.

“Sing to me, Olivia,” she called out to her daughter.

She smiled when the faint sound of “You Are My Sunshine” echoed back from the kitchen. Holding one hand against the smooth wall, she felt her way into the parlor. Blinking hard into the darkness, Remy paused, the hair on the back of her neck rising. A small orb floated over the fireplace. Her heart beat wildly in her chest. She closed her eyes fiercely, then reopened them, expecting to see nothing there. But it was still there, floating along the mantle, coming toward her.

“Olivia!” Remy shouted, her back pressed against the wall, her knees locked.

“Do you want me to sing louder, Mommy?” Her daughter’s reassuring voice made her feel silly and relieved at the same time.

The light dissolved, leaving Remy to laugh shakily. “Yes, please,” she called out, her voice high. “Livie, sing it again.” It had to be a reflection, she reasoned.

Remy’s hand found the switch, and she flipped the breakers. She was pleased when the light flooded the
room. Her sigh of pleasure turned to dismay when she noticed the wreck in her living room. Her eyes circled the area, catching the great orb of light again. Remy gasped and squinted. She turned her flashlight on it, and it faded into the brightness.

“Can I stop singing now, Mommy?” Olivia called.

Remy’s mouth hung open as she searched the room, wondering if she really saw anything at all. Olivia’s impatient voice called, “Mommy! Can I stop singing?”

“Yes,” she answered in a shocked voice, and then she repeated it louder with more confidence. She didn’t want to worry Olivia. The chairs in the parlor had been overturned. Books were strewn across the floor. Feathers from her pillows wafted down the staircase to land on the wooden floors. She backed out of the door, grabbing Olivia’s hand as she made a beeline for her car, slipping just a bit on those blasted steps. Regaining her balance, she raced across the cobbles, throwing Olivia into the front seat.

“Wait, Mommy! I don’t have my seatbelt on!” Olivia wailed.

Remy heard herself huffing, her breath coming in quick gasps. “Hurry, baby, just do it quickly.”

She pulled sharply out of her driveway, raced to the center of town, a mere block away, and called the police.

They arrived eight minutes later and followed her back home to search the house.

The officer scratched his head with puzzlement. “Are you sure you left the door locked?”

“Absolutely, Officer Finley.” She looked around the carnage in her kitchen. Bending down, she picked up the
needlepoint her mother had made for her daughter. “I don’t understand this. They didn’t take anything.”

“Does your ex-husband have a key?”

“No…no, of course not.”

“Well, keep the doors locked,” he said as he finished his report. He handed her a yellow slip of paper. “Call if you see anything suspicious.”

“Like floating orbs,” Remy thought, but she chose not to mention them. It had to be a trick of light.

Remy and her daughter stared at the messy floor. Flour was spilled on the counter. A planter had been overturned, the dirt sprayed across the floor.

“Boys.” Olivia’s mouth pursed into a disapproving line.

“What?” Remy turned to her.

“The only one who could have done this is a boy. The question is, Mommy, which boy wants us to notice him?”

Remy locked the door, then swept up the kitchen first so she could feed her daughter. She walked from room to room, turning on every lamp in the small house.

“Why are you putting on all the lights?” Olivia stayed close to her.

“It’s much nicer when it’s bright, right, Livie?”

They ate soup and tuna sandwiches in silence. Olivia propped her head on her hand, looking irate. Her rosebud mouth was pursed, her brows wrinkled over her serious eyes.

“It’s nothing, honey. Just a prankster or something.”

“What’s a prankster?”

“Someone who likes to joke,” Remy said.

Olivia’s little face was glum. “Well, I don’t think this is very funny.” She pushed away her plate. “I’m done.”

“No, you’re not. Livie, finish your food.”

Her daughter showed her a decidedly mutinous pout. Remy could see an epic meltdown heading their way. She had seen it coming for a few days now, with the move, the new school, going to her father’s. Olivia kept things to herself and had a mostly amiable demeanor, but she had a formidable temper that lurked below the surface. “It must have come from Scott’s side of the family,” Remy thought with chagrin.

Remy looked directly at her and told her sternly, “You’re asking for a time-out, Olivia.”

Olivia shook her head. Her lips thinned. Tears brimmed in her eyes. Her bottom lip quivered ominously.

Remy sighed loudly, her chest tight with anxiety. It was all going to fall on her own shoulders now. She was a single mom. Would Olivia stumble into the cracks with other kids who were trouble? Not enough parental guidance. No more good cop, bad cop. Her tag team of discipline was gone—not that it functioned really well in the past year. That’s when the whole thing fell apart.

She watched her daughter war with her feelings and consider the half-eaten sandwich. Finally she pulled her plate back to give her mother the victory.

“Good choices. I love it when you make good choices, Olivia. I’m very proud of you.”

Remy changed the subject to the upcoming winter concert in school. She took down the extra bedding she kept for guests, and redressed the mussed beds. She tucked Olivia in after her two stories and a bedtime song.

With a broom and a mop, she spent the next forty minutes cleaning the mess in her parlor. When she entered her study, she found her new television hanging from its arm, the glass shattered.

“Why, Scott?” she asked the empty room, knowing he was the only one who could possibly do such a thing. But why would he want her to notice him?

Eli watched the woman clean the mess, feeling his face tighten with shame. He hadn’t meant to be so destructive. He didn’t know what had come over him. He wanted to scare them a bit, just enough to make them leave. Having them here made him uncomfortable, brought back strange feelings. The child stared at the spot where he levitated as she climbed the steps to her room. Her eyes narrowed with anger, filling him with dread. She unnerved him, she did.

livia didn’t know what woke her, but her eyes opened to scan the darkness of the room. Protectively, she tucked the great blue whale she slept with under her arm. She petted his furry head attentively. Olivia sat up, then slid out of the pink confection of a bed. Her toes sank into the raspberry shag carpet as she approached the wall.