Julia
I can’t stay here.
Jake’s been gone all day. In fact, I hadn’t even heard him leave in the first place, and God only knows where he went. But I’m absolutely sure that I don’t want to be here when he gets back.
If he comes back.
Would that really be so bad, I wonder? It’s true that I hate it out here at the edge of the festering swamp, locked away in this big empty house with only ghosts for company. But without Jake tying me down, I could go anywhere, do anything.
I could even find another man, one who would treat me better than the bastard I’d married.
A fine blush rises in my cheeks as the memory of Zeke’s passion whispers across my lips. Guilt trickles through me in its wake. I can’t believe we’d kissed. As terrible as Jake’s actions have been, I’ve never once felt the need to seek out another man.
But there is something about Zeke that beckons me, drawing me closer like a lighthouse in the dark. It isn’t just that he’shandsome, or even that he’snice to me. I have the uncanny, uncomfortable feeling that we are tethered somehow. Every time we touch, that certainty has only grown, and it’s become so strong that I can barely stand it.
I have to get out of here.
Moving with renewed energy, I scurry into the bathroom to retrieve some toiletries. I set the bag down on top of the neatly folded piles of clothes and then zip the duffel shut. I’ve only packed the essentials, knowing that I can always buy whatever extras I need once I reach my destination.
After Zeke left, I finally caved and called Nina. Though I’d feared that my best friend would gloat that she told me so, she was nothing short of kind and understanding. She suggested, without hesitation, that I should come and stay in her guest room in her New York City penthouse, and I accepted her generous offer just as readily.
The thought of getting into one of Jake’s fancy cars and speeding away from this wretched place and the stench of the swamp is the only thing driving me at this point.
I heft the duffel bag onto my shoulder, grab my handbag, and flee.
Stepping out of the house is a relief. Freedom is just around the corner, and nothing can stop me now.
But then, as I round the bed of one of the worker’s trucks, I nearly bump into a man who must have been leaning against the vehicle.
I turn to him, ready to apologize, but the words die in my throat as my eyes lock on his.
On the surface, I recognize him. It’s Tanner, the guy who built the house. What did people say about him? That he lost his mind and kidnapped his girlfriend or something?
There’s something off about him, though I can’t quite put my finger on it. He’s oddly still, and his expression seems frozen somehow, like a person in a stock photo.
“Can I help you?” I finally find my voice. As far as I know, Tanner shouldn’t be here. Maybe the guys working in the cemetery needed him for something?
The contractor’s expression doesn’t change, and when he speaks, his mouth moves like a poorly wrought mask. “Going somewhere?” he asks. His voice has a strange quality to it. It reminds me of the high-pitched buzz of the insects that hum every evening in the marsh. The tone is so grating that it makes my fillings hurt.
“That’s none of your business,” I snap, narrowing my eyes. Is this really Tanner? It’s been almost a year since I last saw him, and I quite liked him at that time. Perhaps this is some random guy who’s wandered in off the street who only just resembles the construction worker. “Why are you here?” I press, wanting to get to the bottom of this so I can get the hell out of here.
“To work,” he says simply.
“On what, exactly?”
“The house.”
I stare at him uneasily. I’m not aware of anything structurally wrong or broken, not that I’ve been paying much attention. But maybe Jake called him here for something. Hadn’t he mentioned that the garage door was acting wonky?
Either way, it doesn’t matter. I can feel my resolve crumbling with each passing second. If I don’t leave now, I’m afraid that my doubt will overtake me. So I tell the builder tersely, “This isn’t a good time.”
“It is,” Tanner insists as he straightens to his full height. A prickle of fear skitters down my spine, and I take a step back from him. Even though I can’t put my finger on it, something feels wrong here.
Tanner smiles, and it’s like something from a horror movie, subtle but deeply disturbing. I don’t even know why his expression instills such terror in me.
He steps around me and walks with an odd, jilting gait toward the garage. My heart sinks as I realize that all of the cars are parked in there, and I won’t be able to leave without trapping myself inside the outbuilding with Tanner.
I’m stuck.
Once the contractor is out of sight, my fear flares into white hot anger. Did Jake do this on purpose? Did he summon Tanner out here to do some bogus work on the garage to stop me from leaving?
I know my judgment is clouded by my emotions right now, but I can’t stop myself from pulling my phone out and jabbing at the screen, dialing Jake’s number. The phone barely rings before my sorry excuse for a husband picks up.
“Julia?” he breathes. His voice sounds unsteady, and I suspect he’s been drinking. Hell, I can practically smell the fumes over the phone. “Baby, I’m sorry. You gotta believe me,” he slurs.
“Do you think this is funny?” I hiss. “Sending the contractor out so I wouldn’t leave you?”
My words are met with several seconds of stunned silence before he finds his voice. “Who? I dunno what you’re talking about.”
“The contractor,” I snap, enunciating every syllable. “Tanner. He’s here saying he needs to work on the garage.”
“The garage?” Jake parrots.
“Yes, you know, the little square building where you park your cars.” It’s all I can do not to scream with frustration.
“I know what the fucking garage is,” he grumbles over the line. “Why though?”
An uncanny feeling settles in the pit of my stomach. Jake isn’t exactly a paragon of honesty, but he’s a terrible liar when he’s drunk. I have to know for sure, though. “You didn’t call him?” I ask.
“Why would I?” he retorts before a thought seems to occur to him. “Wait, did you?”
“No,” I utter. Before he can say another word, I quickly add, “I’ve got to go.”
He starts to reply, but I end the call there. I’ve already got all the information I need. The last thing I want is to listen to him stumble over yet another drunken apology.
Anxiety floods through me as I glance over at the garage. The automatic door is open, and I can just vaguely make out the shape of Tanner looming in the darkness. He doesn’t appear to be doing anything. He’s just… staring. Watching.
Waiting.
In spite of the cloying heat of the day, I shiver. I certainly didn’t call Tanner out here. And if Jake hadn’t either, then who did?
Drowning under the weight of the contractor’s unmoving stare, I decide to go back inside. But even as I step into the cool air conditioned front hallway and drop my bags at the bottom of the stairs, it feels like he’s still looming just over my shoulder.
I really don’t want to be here. I feel like a trapped animal, pacing in its cage. I can’t leave, not with Tanner lurking like a giant creep out in the garage. But if I stay in this house, I’m going to go crazy.
Zeke’s face flashes through my mind, stirring up the familiar warmth in my lower belly. Is he still here, I wonder? I’d seen the work crew’s trucks out in the driveway. If he is, I bet he’s out in the swamp getting the last of the graves dug up.
The thought of venturing out into the marsh isn’t exactly pleasant, but at least I’ll have some company.
My mind made up, I kick off my heels and instead slip into a pair of sensible sneakers before retreating to the back door. As soon as I step out onto the porch, I’m enveloped by the comforting sounds of casual banter and the growl of power tools. I stride across the lawn, doing my best not to look over my shoulder toward the back of the garage.
At the edge of the swamp, I pause, suddenly doubting my plan. It’s muddy. Like, really muddy. The treacherous ground gives the impression that the stagnant pools of water are much deeper than they appear. The smell of the mire is so thick in the soupy air that I can practically taste it. As I linger, the gnarled branches of the cypress trees beckon to me with twisted fingers, the leaves whispering amongst themselves.
Swallowing back my trepidation, I take a step into the swamp.
Muck pulls at my sneaker, but my foot doesn’t sink. It’s not so bad. I take another tentative stride forward, and when I’m not immediately slurped down into the depths of the muck, I start to move more confidently. I pick my way between mossy rocks and tree trunks until I finally haul myself up onto the bleak little island that houses the cemetery.
“Howdy, ma’am,” the foreman greets, offering a polite hand to steady me as I find my footing on the solid ground. He seems surprised that I’ve waded all the way out here. “What brings you to our neck of the woods?”
I can’t exactly say that I’ve come to ogle one of his workers, so instead, I ignore the question and ask, “Did you call a contractor out?”
Confusion passes over the foreman’s expression. “No, ma’am,” he says. “Why? Do you need a recommendation? I know a great guy out of NOLA who might be willing to come down, but nobody closer.”
I shake my head. “Thank you, but no. I was just curious.” I risk a nervous glance toward the house. The building looms over the tops of the trees and blots out the sky, but the sight lines toward the driveway and garage are spotty at best. Although I can’t spot him, I can feel the intensity of Tanner’s gaze boring into my skin.
The foreman shrugs. “If you’d asked me a year ago, I’d have said you should call Tanner. Best in the business, if you ask me. But he up and went to Florida with that cute nurse of his, and now there ain’t nobody willing to help out around these parts.”
“You mean, Tanner really did leave town?” I press.
Dread fills me at the man’s answer. “Yep. He left before finishing this place, actually. Swore he’d never come back to Hahnville.”
“Why?” I try to keep my tone even, but I’m more alarmed than I let on. If the contractor isn’t even in the state, and nobody called him, then who the hell is currently in the garage?
The older man shakes his head. “I ain’t gonna lie to you, ma’am. This swamp’s a strange place. I’m sure you’ve heard the stories by now.” He glances around uncomfortably, as though desperate to change the subject. “Anyhow, I won’t go scaring you with those stories. Besides, you’ll be rid of the marsh soon enough.” He points over at his crew. “We’ve only got two graves left, and then we’ll get to work draining the swamp.”
It’s funny to think that this will all be part of the back lawn in a few short weeks. For months, I’ve waited for this news. But now, I just feel numb.
I don’t want to stay here to see it.
I don’t want to know what’s lying on the bottom of the swamp.
I start to mentally check out as the foreman continues to chatter, explaining the process and gesturing to the areas they’ll start with. As I nod along, my eyes wander back toward the house.
I’ve never really been out here before. Now, I can’t help but notice that I can see directly inside some of the windows, including into our bedroom. My face reddens with embarrassment as I realize that anybody could have looked in and seen me unintentionally putting on a show.
Vowing to close all of the blinds the second I go back inside, my gaze strays down to the yard.
My heart flutters as I catch sight of Zeke. He’s standing on the edge of the grass, his back to the swamp. His stance is wide, and his shoulders are tense, as though he’s fighting with somebody.
Desperately wanting to run over to him, I turn to the foreman, and cutting him off mid-sentence, I say, “I’m sorry, but I have to go.”
But when I turn back toward the house, Zeke is gone.
Weird. I could swear he’d been there a second ago. A strange, heavy feeling settles in my gut, one I can’t quite identify.
A large hand closes over my shoulder, and I jump. For a split second I think it must be Tanner, but then I realize it’s just the foreman.
“You okay, ma’am?” he asks, concern creasing over his features.
“I’m fine,” I lie.
The man fixes me with a scrutinizing stare. “Are you sure?” he presses. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”
I shake my head.
The only thing haunting this place is the ghost of my marriage.