Julia
I’m not sure what wakes me.
It’s not the sun, that’s for sure. For some reason, the blinds are firmly shut, blocking the early morning light from filtering in through the glass.
I blink the sleep from my eyes as I peer into the surrounding dimness. I’m lying in bed, the covers tangled around my legs as though I’d thrashed in my slumber. A dull soreness at the juncture of my thighs reminds me of exactly what Jake and I had been doing last night.
But where is Jake now?
His side of the bed is empty, the sheets cold and untouched.
“Jake?” I call. My voice sounds muted in the still morning air.
There’s no response.
Sighing, I extract myself from the blankets. Goosebumps rise on my arms as the cool, conditioned air kisses my skin. I grab my robe and shrug it on against the chill before padding over to the bathroom.
Like the bedroom, there’s no sign of Jake. I frown. This isn’t like him. Sure, he’s usually an early riser, but he’s not exactly quiet in the mornings. He runs the shower at full blasts, bustles around in the bathroom, and stomps down the stairs without a care in the world. But I haven’t heard a peep from him today, and that worries me more than I care to admit.
Maybe he’s in his office, I consider. That’s where he spends most of his time when he’s home. I’m not convinced that he actually does a lot of work in there, but he has been making a habit of disappearing off into the room and brooding for a couple of hours.
Still, something doesn’t feel right. I’m keenly aware of the sour thread of unease coiling in the pit of my stomach as I move quietly out into the hallway. The hardwood floor is cold beneath my bare feet. Every step I take seems far too loud and by the time I reach the stairs, I feel like a scared little kid again, creeping my way through a haunted house and hoping that the monsters don’t hear me.
“Get a grip,” I mutter to myself. I really am being ridiculous. Whether there are ghosts here or not, this is my home. There’s no reason to sneak around like some intruder. I force myself to stand up a little straighter as I intentionally stomp down the stairs. Dread wells in my throat with each step, but I swallow it down.
This is just a normal morning, I tell myself. Jake is probably just working in his office. I’ll go to the kitchen and make us some coffee. I’m sure he’ll appreciate a fresh cup after getting up so early.
But even with these thoughts running through my mind, I can’t seem to shake the anxiety I’d felt earlier. I almost sigh with relief as I make it to the bottom of the stairs and turn toward the kitchen.
A glint of glass on the floor prompts me to stop in my tracks. It’s lucky that I noticed it, I realize. My bare toes are only inches from the shards, and I hate to think of what would have happened if I hadn’t seen them.
Confusion rolls through me as I bend down to inspect the fragments. After a moment of studying the curved slivers and the silvery metal pieces strewn between them, I realize that they must be the remnants of a light bulb.
“Weird,” I murmur as I straighten and glance up at the light fixture. The bulb went out the day before. I’d hoped that Jake would’ve noticed and fixed it, but I should have known better than to think he’d actually do something useful around the house. It must have popped somehow.
Stepping carefully around the glass, I continue on my way to the kitchen. I put the coffee on and then grab the dustpan. By the time I clean up the glass in the hallway, the espresso machine is letting out its last few gurgles. The rich smell of the caffeinated beverage curls through the air, and for the first time that morning, I let myself relax a bit.
Once the coffee is ready, I pour out two mugs, adding cream and sugar to one and leaving the other black, the way Jake likes it. I’m just gathering both up when I hear footsteps on the stairs heading down from the second floor landing.
I suddenly feel a bit silly. Jake must have been somewhere upstairs this whole time. The realization is reinforced as I hear him move through the ground floor toward his office. Seconds later, the door slams.
He must have gotten an urgent work call or something. Maybe he’d been up all night dealing with an emergency or a difficult client. In that case, I’m sure he won’t mind me interrupting if it means a solid dose of caffeine.
I trail after him, weaving through the rooms until I come to the closed door of his office. As I approach, I can see the shadow of his form spilling out from the gap in the threshold. He looks like he’s pacing back and forth. Whatever he’s dealing with, it seems stressful.
Unable to knock with my hands full, I say, “Jake? Want some coffee?”
He stops moving, but he doesn’t answer. The door remains closed.
“Jake?” I ask again.
The knob turns, and the door creaks inward about an inch. “Wow, thanks for the help,” I quip, rolling my eyes as I push into the room.
There’s nobody there.
“What the fuck?” I gasp. My eyes roam the corners of the vacant space, but there isn’t exactly anywhere for somebody to hide. The walls are lined with bookshelves and filing cabinets, and the only other furniture is Jake’s massive desk. The chair sits empty. The monitors are all blank and powered down. There’s no sign anybody had been here at all.
But I know what I heard.
I know what I saw.
Fear claws at my nerves as I back quickly from the room. Moving as fast as I can without spilling the coffee, I hurry back to the kitchen. I’d left my phone charging there overnight, and I find it now on the island, right where it should be.
My first instinct is to call Jake, but when I take a look at my notifications, I realize there’s no point.
A text from my husband is waiting for me on the screen.
Sorry honey. A work thing came up, and I had to leave for NOLA. I’ll be back in a few days. I promise I’ll make it up to you.
According to the timestamp, he’d sent the message around 2:00 in the morning.
So if it wasn’t Jake in the office, who was it?
“Fuck this,” I proclaim to the kitchen. I slide my phone into the pocket of my robe, gather up both mugs of coffee, and speed walk toward the front door. I don’t know why, but my nerves are screaming that I need to get out of here. I have the worst feeling that there’s something following me, something at my back and hot breath on my neck.
Turn around, Julia.
The voice is like the gurgle of mud in the swamp, inhuman, something not meant to be heard. I can’t tell if it’s in my head or out loud, but there is no fucking way I’m going to do as it asks.
I reach the front door and burst out into the sticky heat. In my cloud of panic, I barely notice the workman standing there until I nearly crash into him.
“Oh God, I’m sorry!” I exclaim. Coffee sloshes out of the mugs I’m holding and splashes down onto the gravel, luckily missing both of us. Flustered, I glance up at the man and blush as I realize that it’s the guy I ran into the other day.
“Ma’am, are you okay?” he asks, concern creasing through his eyes. I’m struck again by how handsome he is, which only deepens my embarrassment.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I manage. “I… I’m sorry. I’m kind of making a habit of this, I guess.”
The man nods kindly. We stand there awkwardly for a moment, him watching me carefully with honey colored eyes as I linger with a half-spilled mug of coffee in each hand.
“Want some help?” he asks eventually, gesturing to the mugs.
I consider him for a second. There’s absolutely no way I’m going back in the house right now, and I’d rather not be alone. Would it really be so wrong of me to ask him to keep me company? After all, Jake’s basically abandoned me. Why should I feel bad?
Making up my mind, I hold one of the mugs out to him. “Actually, would you like some coffee? I made some for my husband, but he had to go out. It’d be a shame to waste it.”
The man regards the cup warily. A fearful expression flits across his face, which strikes me as odd. What’s so scary about a cup of coffee? But then he reaches out and closes his fingers around the offered mug, lifting it easily out of my grasp. Relief replaces the nervousness in his eyes, only adding to my confusion.
He flashes me a broad, warm smile, and all of my concern melts away. “Thank you, ma’am,” he grins. “That’s awfully kind of you.”
“Oh, please don’t call me ma’am,” I insist. “Julia is just fine.”
“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he replies, his voice a cozy rumble. “I’m Zeke.”
I can’t help but smile at the formality of his speech. Maybe this place really does have some old world charm after all. “You’re here early, Zeke. I don’t think the rest of the crew is here yet. Are you really that excited about wading through the swamp?”
He lets out a deep chuckle. “Not exactly. I’m local, but the rest of the guys come from pretty far out of town. You know, because of all the spooky stories. Nobody closer wanted to take the job.”
“So you’re from Hahnville?” I ask, intrigued. Truthfully, I haven’t made much of an effort to get to know anybody here, aside from Helen. If all of the guys in town are this cute, maybe I’ve been seriously missing out.
Zeke nods. “I’ve been here for a long time.”
“So you must know all about the history of this place?”
“More than most,” he confirms. His honeyed eyes flit out toward the swamp and then back to mine.
I take a tentative sip of my coffee before I pose my next questions. “Do you think the swamp is haunted?”
“I think there’s a lot about this place that people weren’t meant to ever know,” he replies carefully. “Why do you ask?”
For a moment, I want to tell him everything, about the footsteps and the voice and the feeling of always being watched. But it’s crazy. He’ll just say the same thing as Jake, that it’s all in my head. It’s a big house in a strange place. My mind is bound to play tricks on me, especially when I’ve been spending so much time out here alone.
And so I shrug, “Just curious.”
Zeke’s eyes narrow skeptically, but he doesn’t have a chance to say anything before the sound of tires on gravel crunches through the still morning. A few seconds later, the work crew’s trucks roll into view.
“I guess it’s time to go,” Zeke sighs. He presses the mug back into my hand. “Thanks for the coffee, Julia. It was nice talking to you.”
“Likewise,” I assure him, matching his warm smile with one of my own. I glance over my shoulder back at the house. I really don’t want to go back in. Maybe I should ask Zeke to come in and look around in case somebody really had broken in last night. An intruder is, after all, far more likely than an infestation of ghosts.
But when I turn back around, Zeke is already gone.
I shiver in spite of the growing warmth of the day. He must have gone around the side of the house, but he moved so quickly and quietly. I shake my head. Zeke’s been nothing but polite and sweet. He has the sort of old world charm that Jake would never be able to muster.
But he’s gone off to do his work, which is why he’s here in the first place. And I’m not going to let this house get the better of me. It’s broad daylight, for heaven’s sake. I’m stupid for being afraid to go back inside.
I reluctantly make my way toward the front door after offering the workmen a wave. Even though I know it’s ridiculous to be scared of my own home, I still don’t want to be entirely alone, so I pull out my cell phone, and clutching the handles of both empty mugs in one hand, dial my best friend Nina.
She picks up immediately with a cheerful, “Hey, girl!”
“Hey,” I greet her back as I step inside of the house.
“Is everything okay? It’s kind of early for you,” Nina says.
“Yeah,” I lie. “It’s just that Jake’s gone on another business trip, and I’m just kind of freaking myself out.”
I can practically hear Nina’s eyes roll over the phone. “Another one? Seriously, Julia, it’s time to consider that maybe Jake isn’t being totally honest with you.”
It’s not something I want to think about right now. Instead, I tell her, “It’s not like that. I’m only calling because this house gives me the fucking creeps. I scared myself so bad this morning that I went out and had coffee with one of the workmen.”
“Ooh!” Nina gasps. “Is he cute?”
It’s my turn to roll my eyes. “For the record, yes. But why does that even matter?”
“Well, if Jake’s off working, then why can’t you do a little work too?”
“It was just a cup of coffee,” I groan, shaking my head even though my friend can’t see it.
“Honestly, Jules, would it really be so wrong of you to explore it?”
“I’m married,” I shoot back.
“And so is Jake, but he doesn’t seem to act like it,” she retorts.
I close my eyes. As much as I hate to think about it, Nina’s right. He doesn’t. He leaves me here on my own and meanwhile, I have no idea what he’s up to.
But he couldn’t be cheating on me.
Could he?
I don’t want to face the answer, but sooner or later, I know I won’t have a choice.