Chapter Thirty-Six Kiersten
Chapter Thirty-Six
Kiersten
Kiersten triple checked her alarm before getting into bed. She’d had two cups of chamomile tea, but it hadn’t helped.
A flutter of nervous anticipation about tomorrow’s first day of “school” had her feeling wide awake at her normal bedtime. And there were other issues that made her mind race when she should be settling down for the night.
Just before she turned out the light, Garrett had called from somewhere in South Dakota to say good night and wish her luck.
“This is going to be harder than I thought,” she told him.
“Why?”
“I just got a text. Luke’s Orton–Gillingham tutor is moving to Florida.”
“Remind me again . . . Orton Gillingham is . . .” her husband asked.
“A teaching method for kids with dyslexia. You have to be certified, and she was wonderful. And now she’s moving. She won’t be able to work with Luke.”
“Can you find someone else?”
“I’ll have to,” she said. “But it could take a while. They don’t grow on trees. And it’s expensive.”
“I’ll ask around the office, see if anyone has any recommendations.”
“Thanks.”
“Anything else going on?” he asked. “You sound . . . tense.”
“Do you remember that piece of paper I showed you, the one I found nailed to the tree out front?”
“The one smeared with what looked like blood?” he asked.
“Yeah. Well, I found another one tonight. This one had writing. It said ‘I watch you.’”
She heard his quick intake of breath. “Seriously?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you check the Ring camera?” he asked.
“This note was out back. Our Ring camera only covers the front yard, remember?”
He uttered a curse word under his breath. “I’ll install a second one when I get home. Have you talked to the neighbors? Maybe they saw something? Or the boys . . .”
“I’ll ask them,” she said. “It does sound like their idea of fun, doesn’t it?”
“You mean Let’s create secret messages written with bodily fluids and then communicate with each other by leaving blood-smeared papers all over the yard? Yeah. It sounds right up their alley.”
The tightness in her chest eased. He wasn’t wrong. That absolutely sounded like something the boys would do.
“I’m still nervous about this Experiment,” she admitted.
“Channel your inner Miss Beadle,” he said, referencing her deep and abiding love for Little House on the Prairie. “You can do this.”
“I know. I just . . . I hope the boys like it.”
“Johnny and that little Mondello girl are thick as thieves. They’ve formed a crime syndicate, and they’re teaming up to steal ice cream bars from the freezer.” She could hear the smile in his voice through the phone. “I think they’ll like it.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“I love you, and I’m proud of you. And I’ll be home on Friday to give you a break, okay?”
“Okay. Love you too.”
Gratitude flooded her chest as she hung up the phone. She’d married young, just like Dottie. Her husband could have been another Dickie.
Instead, Garrett had actually turned out the be the loving and supportive man she suspected him of being, without a whole lot of evidence to support this theory on the day they got married when they were both only twenty-two years old.
So much of life came down to luck, she thought, punching her pillow in frustration as sleep continued to elude her.
After ten more minutes of tossing and turning, she turned on the light, padded down the stairs in her nightgown, and retrieved Dottie’s diary from her purse.
She couldn’t make herself fall asleep, but maybe she could keep reading and try to figure out who Dottie was and how she’d ended up married to a monster.