When Through Deep Waters Page 7

  Something creaked overhead, and Alicen’s eyes shot open. She waited for another sound, but nothing came. The room stayed still. A soft, distant groaning echoed outside the window behind the couch, and she used her arms to prop her shoulders up off the cushions. Wind, she thought. It was just the howling of the wind. A storm was coming.

  The floor above creaked again, twice, short spikes of pressure that filled the dark room. Alicen bit the inside of her cheek to distract her heart from its quickened pace. There was wind, and old wood floors creaked. The old floors creaked from the wind; that was the way old houses worked. No reason to let her nerves swan-dive into panic.

  She pushed a small stream of air out through her lips and sat all the way up. She ran her slightly trembling hand down over her face, hoping to press out the insanity rooting in her brain. She stood, walked to the wall nearby, flipped the switch next to a large mounted painting, and flooded the room with light.

  Alicen’s eyes swept the room—its familiar edges and corners a time capsule of memories. Her eyes wandered to the painting, inches from where her fingers still lingered on the light switch. A beachside ocean scene. Alicen could remember a couple of downpours that forced her and Louise inside for long hours of boredom. Once Stephanie had walked in on her and Louise lying on the floor beneath this painting, their backsides pressed up against the wall’s bottom trim, their legs extended up toward the artwork, their spines stretched out across the carpet.

  “What are you girls doing in here?” Stephanie had asked.

  “Imagining what it would be like to die from being bored,” Lou had answered.

  Alicen only shook her head in agreement.

  “Oh, I see,” Stephanie said, crossing her arms and gingerly leaning against the wall. “That seems a bit dramatic.”

  “Life’s dramatic, Mom,” Lou complained.

  Stephanie tried to hide a smile. “It could be worse.”

  “How?” Lou asked.

  “Yeah,” Alicen chirped in. “This is pretty awful.”

  “You could be stuck on a ship, in the middle of the ocean,” Stephanie pressed. She pointed to the beachside image hanging above the girls. “These waters stretch for boundless miles, and early on, crews aboard massive wooden ships were sent out for months at a time to try and discover what lay beyond the setting sun.”

  “So?” Lou asked.

  “So you think being stuck inside this house during a little rain is tough? Imagine being stuck belowdecks.”

  Alicen shared a worried glance with Lou, who had pushed herself up onto her elbows.

  Stephanie slid down to a graceful squat, her eyes wide with wonder. “The wind howling so loudly it sounds like it might crack through the ship’s sturdy hull, the rain pelting down across the deck, soaking through to the hold below, the waves tossing the ship with ease, stoking fear that they may just swallow the whole thing and drag its men down to the bottom of the sea.”

  “I’d be outta there,” Lou said.

  “There’s nowhere to go,” Stephanie continued. “The sailors are trapped by the storm and the endless waters surrounding them.”

  Alicen shook her little head. “We’d have to escape; I get terrible motion sickness.”

  “We would,” Lou bolstered.

  “Many men before you haven’t; are you sure you’re up for the challenge?” Stephanie asked, a twinkle in the corner of her eye.

  Lou lay back down, the same twinkle in hers. Like mother, like daughter, they said. “We’ve escaped worse.”

  Alicen shook with glee. “Good. I hate boats.”

  Stephanie smiled and stood.

  “You think there’s enough stuff around here to build a submarine?” Lou asked as she began searching the room with her eyes.

  “Submarine? I just said I hated boats!” Alicen said.

  “Alicen, sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do,” Lou commanded.

  Stephanie turned to leave the girls alone. “Good luck, you two,” she tossed over her shoulder before disappearing.

  Alicen hadn’t understood what Stephanie was doing at the time, but thinking back to those times now, she couldn’t help but chuckle.

  Now Alicen reached out and ran her grown fingers over the painting, echoes of her childhood voice still lingering in her head. Had she ever encouraged Jane to dream the way Stephanie had prompted them to? Had she led her precious daughter to believe she could be anything she wanted, or had she robbed her of wonder? Had she ever been worthy of being called mother at all?

  Tears found their way down Alicen’s cheeks, and she felt the numbing sorrow begin to refill her bones. A thud sounded overhead, followed by movement from the far corner to the center of the room before it went silent. Footsteps.

  The sorrow that had been working its way into her system was replaced by dread. That was not old-house creaking. She held her breath, frozen in place, waiting for whatever was up there to move again. Her eyes glued to the ceiling, the fan still turning, the room filled with a still sense of terror.

  Alicen watched. Waited. Nothing. She took a breath and cursed silently. What was wrong with her? She peeled her eyes off the ceiling and forced her legs to leave the living room. She stopped at the bottom of the winding staircase and dared to glance up into the black shadows. Another breath. The dread still remained as she reached out and lightly touched the wooden railing. She took a step forward, her toes reaching the bottom stair, her eyes waiting for something to appear, something logic told her wasn’t there.

  Something shifted at the top of the stairs. More raps echoed, as the shape above darted back farther into the shadows, its movement again disturbing the house’s stillness. Fear walloped inside Alicen’s chest as she jumped back. Whispers fell from the dark upper corner, small, familiar.

  No, she thought. She reached out across the entryway and rammed the light switch to illuminate the staircase. Her chest pulsed with short breaths as her eyes tore apart the top level. Empty. The muffled hum of voices vanished.

  Of course it was empty. Her mind had wanted to see something in the darkness, so she had. She was tired, her control frazzled. Alicen closed her eyes and ordered her brain to get ahold of itself. Of course there was nothing.

  The static of voices started again, but Alicen kept her eyes closed. It’s not real. The whispers grew—nothing discernible, just louder noise pressing like slivers into her mind. She swallowed and clenched her eyes tighter, balling her fists against her fingers’ terrified vibrating. Nothing, nothing, nothing.

  More footsteps passed overhead. They were tiny and quick, the pitter-patter of children. Tiny whispers, like the mischief of kids. Fear like a bull rammed Alicen’s resolve, and she pressed her palms into her eye sockets to keep them shut. It’s nothing. It’s nothing. She was in control of her mind; she would not let it win. Her palms soaked up the angry tears she couldn’t hold back.

  Alicen. Can you hear us?

  Pressure started to pulse in the back of her head. Her shoulders shook. Her knees barely held her steady. “No,” she said, more thought than actually spoken. “No.”

  Alicen.

  “No!” she screamed. “No, I cannot hear you!”

  Her voice echoed through the empty house, and everything became still. For a moment it was only her breathing. Her pounding skull. Her thundering heart. Her rattling bones. As the moment dragged on, Alicen began to believe she had actually conquered her delusion. She let the thought linger, and as her confidence in what she may have accomplished grew, Alicen dared to uncover her eyes.

  She was met by an illuminated entryway. The wind howled outside, vibrations of falling rain tapping against the roof. The house was empty. She drew her eyes from one corner of what lay before her to the other, and then back.

  Alicen saw her then. She may have missed her completely had she not shifted slightly. Standing at the end of the hallway beyond the entry was a child.

  A girl.

  A shadow really, but standing there, short in stature, hands folded in fron
t of her knee-length dress, hair tied into long, low pigtails on either side of her neck. Alicen couldn’t see her face, couldn’t see her breathing. She was more silhouette than human, motionless enough to trick the eye into thinking she might be an illusion, and then Alicen’s logic told her it couldn’t possibly be anything else.

  But Alicen’s logic had betrayed her before, and without another thought she was stepping forward. “You . . . ,” she started, her words falling off flat. The shadow looked so real. “You . . . what are you?” Alicen muttered.

  The moment the words left her mouth, the girl vanished from view. Like a flame extinguished with a single breath. Impossible. A long moment of terror slowly dripped down, from the top of Alicen’s skull to her feet, covering her whole being, blotting out all streams of thought except panic. Then she snapped. Fury mushed with fear turned her into a beast.

  “Where are you?” she screamed. “I saw you!” Stomping forward, attacking every light switch, Alicen hastily moved from room to room. “I saw you!” Each room came up empty. The tiny voice in her head tried to warn against losing herself to such madness, but Alicen shut it off and strode into the kitchen. The room sprang to life under the golden lights and like the others contained only furniture.

  The static voices wavered in and out of earshot. She was being followed. Haunted. She grasped her head with both hands as a deep tremor rolled down her spine.

  Alicen, can you hear us?

  Alicen.

  Do you see us?

  “I saw you, I saw you!” Alicen’s voice wailed through the house.

  Alicen.

  She yanked at her hair and closed her eyes. This couldn’t be real; she was yelling at air; she was losing her mind. Get a grip, Alicen. Act like an adult, Alicen. What would your mother say, Alicen?

  The tiny pulses of feet running overhead cut through her mocking logic, and Alicen rushed from the kitchen toward the stairs. She raced upward two at a time, hitting the lights at the top. The hallway was empty, but the sound of laughter and running came from the far room.

  Alicen stormed forward. “Get out—get out of my house!” she yelled.

  Get a grip, Alicen. Act like an adult, Alicen, her mind taunted.

  She threw open every door, switched on every light. Her legs pumped like machines. Empty. Empty. Empty. All the rooms were empty. More footsteps drifted from behind her. Skitter-scatter. Skitter-scatter.

  More childish laughter reached her, now wafting up from the first floor. They were downstairs. How were they downstairs? Alicen rushed back toward the stairs and bounded down. The whispers and giggling stretched toward the back of the house. Alicen followed their trail.

  Alicen. Do you see us?

  “Where are you? I know you’re here! Get out, get out!” she screamed.

  What would your mother say, Alicen? her mind lashed.

  Alicen moved, not stopping, until she was pushing open the back door and stepping out onto the porch. Rain poured from the sky, and she stumbled forward to the wooden patio’s edge. She stopped, searching the long stretch of lawn, trying to make out any shadows through the sheets of water. Her breathing was ragged, her throat raw, her mind frazzled.

  Get a grip, Alicen. Act like an adult, Alicen. A thick razor of lightning cut across the sky, casting a moment of illumination over the backyard, and Alicen saw her.

  Same shadowy figure, same knee-length dress, same double pigtails. Standing at the far reaches of the lawn, more imagined than real, but there. Alicen stepped down off the porch and into the rain. Heavy drops smacked against her skull and drained down her face. She pushed them away. The shadow was gone, or it was too dark to see her.

  Alicen’s hands were trembling; cold was soaking through her clothes and into her skin. She felt a familiar fading begin in her mind. The yard vanished, and the rain and darkness disappeared. And she found herself standing beside her pool, warm sun touching her skin, a soft breeze rolling across her shoulders.

  Jane.

  Alicen turned and saw her across the pool. Her beautiful little girl, bright-red swimsuit, tight golden curls. Joy filled her being, and she took a step forward. “Baby.”

  Jane smiled and giggled, her hand moving up over her mouth. Like always. Sparkle in her eyes. Like always. And then her tiny dancing feet moving about in circles. Like always. Alicen knew where this living nightmare would take her, but she couldn’t make it stop.

  Alicen. Her name carried past her ears on the wind. The familiar child’s voice she couldn’t get out of her head. No, not here, she thought. Not in this place. This was Jane’s place.

  Alicen.

  Something phased into view behind her dancing girl. A shadowy figure. She was there, the haunting silhouette. The child from inside the house.

  Fire rumbled inside Alicen’s chest, and her rooted parental instincts roared. She rushed toward the pool, but Jane wasn’t even aware of the shadow behind her. She was hurtling toward the water, getting ready to launch herself over the edge and below the surface. To drown. Like always.

  “Jane!” Alicen yelled. “Stop!”

  The storm had rolled in. The clouds were dark with rage, the sky heavy with sorrow. Alicen’s words were ravaged by the wind. Her daughter leaped with gusto off the ledge and splashed into the brewing pool as the wind lapped waves out over the stone edging.

  Alicen.

  “No,” Alicen cried. “No!” She ignored the figure, the fear, the insanity. And the same thought that always prevailed was Save her. Save Jane. Don’t let her die again. Alicen pushed against the raging storm and was dragged to her knees.

  “Jane!” she screamed. “Please don’t leave me.”

  The little head had gone underwater and would not resurface. It was happening. Jane was dying, and Alicen couldn’t get to her. She let out a full-throttled cry of anguish. Every time her daughter died, Alicen wanted to die. Dying would be easier than living with this pain.

  Alicen.

  “Alicen!” Her name echoed through the sky above her. Another, outside voice. Mature and familiar. Rain poured down around her, the wetness reregistering across her skin. She was shaking, the pool gone, her daughter nowhere, and the summer home’s backyard in Red Lodge the only thing that existed.

  “Alicen!” the voice screamed as a body dropped down beside her, and through the darkness she saw Louise’s face. “What are you doing?”

  Alicen dropped her gaze. Mud covered her knees and fingers. Her hair dripped down into her eyes. Her top was soaked, her bones chattering. She was in the backyard, in the pouring rain. There was no pool, there was no Jane, and there never would be.

  7

  Once again Alicen was tucked into a kitchen chair inside the Watsons’ kitchen after being rescued by Louise because she had lost all sense of reality. Once again Louise had prepared her hot tea, had watched her with peering concern, and had tried to understand what was happening, but ultimately had left Alicen alone with her insanity.

  Get a grip, Alicen. Act like an adult, Alicen. What would your mother say, Alicen? The torment was endless. It was almost humorous the way her mind could both betray her, shoving her into a realm of delusion, and then mock her for being pushed when she finally regained balance. Endless and cruel. But she deserved it.

  Mud was caked under her fingernails. Her wet hair had been pulled up high on top of her head and was drying. She still had bouts of deep shivers from the soaking she’d endured. Her clothes had been changed, but the wetness still lingered. She placed both elbows on the table in front of her and pressed her forehead into the heels of her hands, forcing her eyebrows and eyelids to smush together, igniting a dull pulse behind her face.

  She had been over it so many times. Yes, she understood that she was possibly suffering from PTSD and maybe hearing things. Yes, she knew people’s eyes played tricks on them. Yes, she knew the mind conjured up shadows in the darkness.

  But she had seen something, someone. She was certain of it. It didn’t feel the same as when she got lost in the p
lace where Jane was. It felt tangible. Real. But it wasn’t. It couldn’t have been.

  Soft footsteps yanked Alicen from her pose, and her heart leapt. Louise walked into the kitchen, barefoot, dressed for bed, and offered Alicen a small smile. Alicen exhaled relief and let her head fall back against her palms.

  A moment passed with nothing. Alicen opened her eyes and let her hands fall away from her face. Louise stood across the kitchen, leaning against the sink. Her arms were crossed over her waist, and she was staring down at the floor, but she clearly wanted to say something.

  Louise raised her gaze from the floor and met Alicen’s. She held it for a beat. “I put your jeans and T-shirt in the washer. Hopefully the mud will come out with a couple of cycles.”

  “I could have done that,” Alicen replied.

  For the first time since Alicen had moved in a week ago, anger pulsed across Louise’s expression. “I want you to go see Dr. Wells tomorrow,” she said.

  “I have a session scheduled with him on Friday already. That’s just a couple days away.”

  “But he might be free tomorrow—”

  “I don’t need to talk to him tomorrow. I’m fine.”

  Louise bit her lip but didn’t try to hide her concern.

  “I swear there was someone in this house, Lou,” Alicen said.

  Louise’s lips parted as if she were going to speak, but Alicen continued.

  “Wouldn’t you have chased after someone if they had been in the house?”

  “If there had actually been someone in the house, I would have called the police,” Louise said.

  “Right, because you don’t believe there was anyone here.”

  “Do you?”

  Alicen opened her mouth to respond but suddenly couldn’t think of anything logical to say. Of course Louise was right to ask, to be worried. Of course Alicen didn’t truly believe someone had been in the house. Did she?

  “Even if someone was in the house, that doesn’t explain what you were doing outside,” Louise said.