“You going to bed?” Gabe asks once we’re inside the cottage.
“Yeah, guess so,” I say and start to head up the stairs. “I’m pretty tired.”
I’m still rattled, too, not only from the engagement drama, but also from what Keira revealed about the loan. I want to ask Gabe about it, but that’s a discussion best tabled until the morning.
“Me, too,” he says, following me up.
After quickly stripping off his clothes, he slides into bed and looks up at me. “You ended up speaking to my mom, I noticed. Did she say anything of note?”
Because of my promise to butt out, I’m hardly going to tell him we talked about Hannah, and besides, Claire said it was “between us.”
“No, nothing in particular,” I say, slipping into bed next to him. “But like I said earlier, she didn’t look thrilled.”
“Well, you know my mom. There’s nothing she can’t handle.”
Based on how annoyed Gabe seemed earlier, I’m surprised when he moves closer and snuggles up to me. Within a couple of minutes, I hear his breathing deepen.
I try to will myself to sleep, but my mind refuses to quiet. It would have been wrong to betray his mother’s confidence, and yet I’m uncomfortable hiding something from Gabe. But given how unwilling he is to accept the truth about Hannah and consider the impact she’s going to have on Nick, I’m not sure I’d get through to him anyway.
I keep circling back to my conversation with Claire. She claimed to have Hannah’s number, but what does that mean exactly? Has she discovered more about Hannah than I already know myself? Our little USC graduate, she’d said. Could she mean that Hannah lied about going there?
Finally, too exhausted to ruminate any further, I drift off to sleep. But then I’m awake again, stirring as I feel Gabe slipping back into bed.
“Everything okay?” I mumble.
“Yeah, I was just getting some water.”
I’m thirsty, too, I realize, and head down to the kitchen a minute later, where the clock tells me it’s 1:30 A.M. As I’m filling a glass with ice water, I jerk in surprise at a movement I hear on the other side of the front door.
I tiptoe into the sitting room and stare at the wooden door. Someone or something is clearly out there, scuffing the ground. It could be deer, or a raccoon. Or the darn coywolf.
And then a different sound, a light but frantic rapping on the door.
Holding my breath, I inch toward it.
“Who’s there?” I call out.
Silence.
“Who’s there?” I repeat, but this time louder.
“Daddy,” a voice calls, almost a wail. “Daddy, please let me in. Pleeeease.”
I fling open the door, and there, standing in the dark, is Henry in his Spider-Man pajamas, his face streaked with tears.
“Oh my god, honey, what’s the matter?” I exclaim.
“Something,” he says. His chest heaves as he speaks.
“Something what?”
“Something bad happened.”
7
Gasping, I yank Henry inside, kick the door closed with my bare foot, and wrap an arm around him.
“Can you tell me what happened?” I ask, trying to keep my voice calm as my shock morphs into dread.
“Gee,” he says. “It . . . it’s about Gee.”
My heart nearly stops.
“Is she okay? Is she sick?”
“Not sick. She’s really mad.”
“At you, honey?” I can’t imagine that.
“No . . . at someone else.” He starts to cry again, softly, and swipes his tears away with the back of his hand. “I heard her when I was in my room—and I got really scared.”
Okay, none of this is making any sense, but at least the house isn’t burning to the ground like Manderley.
“Come sit. I’ll get you a glass of water and we can talk about it some more.”
I lead him to the couch, flicking on a light as we go. The back of his pajama top, I realize, is damp with perspiration.
“Is Daddy here?” he asks mournfully as I turn toward the kitchen.
“Yes, of course. Want me to wake him up?”
But I don’t have to. Suddenly there’s the sound of feet barreling down the enclosed staircase, and Gabe emerges dressed only in his boxer briefs. His gaze immediately falls on Henry and he rushes toward him.
“Hen, what’s happened?”
Henry glances at me, like he’s wondering if he should start at the beginning again.
“He thought he heard your mother yelling at someone in the house, and it frightened him,” I say.
“Not yelling,” Henry corrects me. “She was scolding the person. And it wasn’t in the house. It was outside my window.”
Outside? Had Claire encountered a would-be intruder prowling around the house?
“What was Gee saying?” Gabe asks, dropping onto the couch next to Henry.
“She was telling them she knew what they were up to. And that they better do the right thing.”
No, not a stranger then. Someone in the family—or the person’s partner. Could she have been talking to Hannah? Based on what Claire told me, I’d assumed she’d be biding her time, but maybe she decided to bring the situation to a head tonight.
“But you don’t know who Gee was talking to?” I ask.
Henry shakes his head.
“And when did this happen, buddy?” Gabe prods. “Just now?”
“Uh, I don’t know. I think I went back to sleep for a while. But I can’t sleep now. Please, I don’t want to be in the big house anymore.”
Gabe pulls Henry toward him in an embrace. “You don’t have to be there. You can stay right here in the cottage with me and Summer. The bed’s already made up in the spare room.”
Henry whimpers in relief and then asks if he can have a glass of water now.
“Summer will get it for you and take you upstairs while I run to the house for a second, okay? I want to make sure everything’s all right over there.”
Henry nods, and Gabe jumps up and follows me to the kitchen.
“What the hell do you think is going on?” he whispers. “It’s the middle of the night. Who could my mother have been talking to outside?”
“I think it might be just what he said—that he heard it earlier and then fell back to sleep.”
I’ve managed to avoid answering my husband’s second question. Who?
“And maybe,” I add, “he only thought he heard it out his window. It could have taken place in the living room or the screened porch.”
“Yeah, well, whatever and wherever, I don’t like the sound of it and I want to check things out. I have my house key.”
“Okay, but take the flashlight, too. And honey, be careful. We have no idea what’s really going on.”
Gabe nods and hurries upstairs for his pants and shoes, then grabs the flashlight from the kitchen drawer. He tells Henry not to worry, swings open the cottage door, and disappears into the darkness outside.
I’ve never felt jittery on the Keatons’ property at night, but I do now. After Henry’s nursed his water for as long as possible, I lead him upstairs to the second bedroom. Because the space hasn’t been used in a while, it smells musty, and I wiggle open the windows, allowing fresh air to seep in through the screens. I also plug in the night-light so he won’t get scared when I switch off the bedside lamp.