Chapter 16 Silently
L auren could sense the uneasiness that befell me, considering my only friend had more secrets that she had never cared to divulge. Then, seeking to perhaps mend her notions, she began to explain herself.
“I’m sure there was a reason for it, though. Don’t people keep secrets all the time to protect someone they love?”
“Love?” I asked.
“Yeah, why wouldn’t she love you?”
I shook my head and gave no response, but Lauren had no intention of going on without me explaining. “There’s only one person I ever thought loved me,” I finally admitted. “And she left—no note, no apology, and no explanation. After that, I’ve questioned if anyone would ever love me...” My voice faded as I worked to cover my true feelings. I had suppressed them for years and would rather not let them resurface now.
“That’s not true,” Lauren snapped.
“How would you know?”
“I—” she began.
“That’s right; you don’t. Look, I rather not argue. This has been tough enough, and it’s starting to get to both of us.”
Lauren returned to filing the papers, but this time she sat alone, keeping to herself. I could not blame her, and perhaps we had been spending so much time together when, in fact, we were not accustomed to being with anyone but ourselves, that perhaps it had caused some tension.
Disregarding everything else, I continued to focus on the task at hand. Statement by statement, we sorted through the mess, slowly cleaning the room by placing all of Ms. Debbie’s belongings on shelves or in drawers. Yet, in the silence of our efforts, we both accepted that whatever the person had been looking for must have been found.
“I guess that’s it,” I finally said, hoping to ease back into a conversation with Lauren.
“I guess so.”
I waited for her to say something else, but she offered nothing. Peering outside, I began to question the late evening, along with where we might sleep and what we might eat.
“Are you okay with staying here for the night?” I asked.
Lauren shrugged her shoulders, implying that, as discussed, there really was no better option. Instead of keeping up the charades, I walked over to where she sat and placed my hands along her shoulders. Kneading my fingers gently into the tightness of her muscles, I could feel the tension begin to melt.
“Is this how you always resolve issues with girls?”
“No. Why?”
“Well, it’s definitely a good start.”
“I’m glad to hear it, because I rather see us happy together.”
“Me too,” she affirmed, tilting her head back with a smile.
Pleased with her ability to not hold a grudge, I leaned over her head and pressed my lips to hers. When I pulled away, Lauren leaned up and twisted around to face me. “Do you think Ms. Debbie has something in the freezer I could cook?”
“Cook?”
“Yeah. Aren’t you hungry?”
“Of course,” I laughed. “But now I’m more intrigued to see what kind of cook you are.”
“Pretty good, actually,” she said with less than a meek boast.
“Okay, I believe you, but I’ll have to be the judge of that.”
“I’ll tell you what: how about you find a book to read to me while I put together a meal?”
“I can do that. Do you have anything particular that you would want to hear?”
“I’m sure anything Ms. Debbie has on her shelves will do.”
Giving me a playful kiss on the cheek, Lauren walked to the door, making sure to capture my attention with each step she took. As my eyes peeled away from her back side, I could see the lights down the hall flip on. Quickly, I followed after Lauren, contemplating how she might continue to switch on every light as the inside of the house was dimming with the sun.
“Lauren,” I called.
“Find something already?”
“No, not yet. I was going to say... We need to keep most of the lights off in front of the house anyway. We don’t want to draw any attention tonight from the neighbors.”
“Oh, sorry.”
“No, it’s fine. I think if we leave the hall light on, and maybe the one over the stove, we should be fine.”
“Okay.”
As she turned to walk away again, I quickly diverted my eyes before the movement of her body could grab my attention. I needed to remain focused on why we were here. After dinner, there would be a few more hours to possibly do some snooping around, but for what, I had no clue. We had essentially turned over every inch of the office and determined a piece of the puzzle was missing. And there would likely be no other chance to come back to the house. If the neighbors noticed us, or if the court met, we could very well find a padlock on the front door.
Hearing something sizzling in the kitchen, I decided to give in to my hunger for the time being and resume searching the rest of the house after dinner. I walked over to the shelves of Ms. Debbie’s library to begin my search for a book to read to Lauren. A few titles struck my interest, but I continued to glance over the spines. One by one, I began to skim my finger along the books, giving them a gentle tug to see if they were all real. It would not have surprised me if a hollowed-out cover found its way among Ms. Debbie’s collection to safely hide some of her other secrets, but then again, Ms. Debbie had already proven to be smarter than the typical person when it came to keeping important things safe.
Despite there being hundreds of books that I did not check, I felt like there was no use. A common thief would have torn the shelf apart while rummaging through the house, but this one did not. Instead, they went straight to the office and found what they were looking for, or was that all a coincidence?
Reeling my head back to reality, I settled on a book of poems that would provide a short intermission without consuming too much time. If it was anything like before, I’d rather not fall asleep mid-page.
As I returned to the kitchen, I saw Lauren standing in front of the stove, prancing to the melody of her own voice. I stopped and listened, intrigued by how well she carried the tune. Hoping to not interrupt, I stood watching for another minute until she turned toward the refrigerator.
“Sheesh, Joshua! It’s spooky enough here without you sneaking up on me.”
“Why did you stop?”
“You weren’t supposed to hear that.”
“Oh, but I did. And honestly, I’d much rather hear you sing than me read.”
Lauren shot a glance through the dimly lit kitchen, refusing to even entertain the idea. “Too bad we already agreed that I would cook while you read. Oh, and how do you feel about bacon, eggs, and biscuits? I can make some gravy too, but the milk is out of date, so I wasn’t sure if you wanted to take a chance.”
“Biscuits, huh?”
“Yeah... Or are you more of a toast guy?”
“No, that all sounds good. I just didn’t pin you as a Southern cook.”
“I resent that remark,” she sneered.
“It’s true.”
“And why exactly would you think that?”
“Oh, I don’t know, the way you dress, the way you act...”
“Okay, wise guy. I guess that shows you can’t judge a book by its cover and that you don’t know me as well as you think.”
“No, you’re right about that.”
“Speaking of books, what did you find?”
I held up the collection of poems, to which she seemed pleased by my choice. Lauren turned around again, this time facing me fully as she went to the cupboard for flour.
“That apron looks really cute on you,” I suggested upon noticing the way it swayed as she walked.
“Thanks, but can you say something besides cute?” she said almost timidly.
“Yeah, but what’s wrong with cute?”
“It’s more degrading than complimentary.”
“How so?”
She cleared her throat and gave a sigh. “For example, you might also say, ‘Ah, that’s cute’ when I do something stupid. It makes me feel dumb and even less attractive.”
“That’s not what I meant, though.”
“Okay, then, what if a girl said your junk was cute? She might actually mean it, but really, you’d probably think of it as being called small.”
My face squinched up, offering a scowl in response. “I guess I can’t argue there. But you do look...” I paused to gather my thoughts for the right word, but nothing seemed to fit. Gorgeous and beautiful were not fitting and neither was adorable, because that would be the same as cute. “Desirable,” I finally said.
“Oh...” she mumbled while climbing down off the counter. She slid from her knees to her bottom, and I obliged her by anchoring my hands along her waist for the remaining descent. As her feet reached the ground, I looked into her eyes, feeling a connection between us. “I like that,” she uttered.
The moment broke as the scent of something burning filled the air. Lauren’s eyes widened as she pulled away and jolted toward the frying pan, which glowed with whimsical flames around the bottom.
“You distracted me,” she defended. As she pulled the pan from the eye, I switched the knob from high to off. “That was just to get it started cooking.”
“I didn’t say anything,” I said, holding my hands up to declare my innocence. Seeking to cease the bantering around the mistake, I merely flipped open the book and busied my eyes away from her distress.
“I’ll make some more. It’s no big deal.”
“I guess I better start reading then, unless you feel like singing more...”
“You’ll be lucky if you get to hear me again. I don’t sing with company. Besides, someone has to put out this fire.”
I walked over to the stovetop and placed the frying pan lid over the eye. In an instant, the fire ceased, and the room fell back to the dim glow it previously harbored.
“I knew that,” Lauren defended.
“I never said you didn’t. I was just watching out for you.”
“Sure. That’s what friends are for,” she said playfully.
My eyes turned serious and my voice lowered as irritation struck my core. “Let’s get one thing straight,” I said with a certain sternness. My chest lifted as I inhaled the sureness of what I was about to say. “I’m not your friend,” I directed, conveying my frustration with the game we were playing.
Taken off guard, Lauren backed up against the counter. As her bottom pressed into its edge, I hoisted her from the floor with my hands, grabbing the tender underside of her thighs. Lauren’s legs latched around my waist, and I raked my hands through her hair, waiting for her breath to calm.
“Then what are you?” she asked.
“You know exactly what we are.”
Lauren’s eyes widened, almost pleased with my directness, but then the delightful thought faded. Instead of giving me a kiss, she slid from my arms and returned to the stove.
I watched for a moment, but when she appeared to have no other reaction, I picked up the book of poems and laid it down beside her before turning to walk away.
“Where are you going?” she called.
I said nothing but continued to leave the kitchen without ever breaking stride. Truthfully, I was not sure where I was headed, but I cared less to be torn apart by another woman.
“Joshua,” she called again. This time, when I failed to reply, she came running down the hall, as I was already halfway to the front door. “You’re just going to leave me?”
I turned and looked at her weary eyes. There were no words to describe how I felt. “You clearly don’t want me, so...”
“You’re just going to walk out?”
I shrugged my shoulders, unable to answer. I never wanted to leave her, but I had previously promised myself to not be put in a situation again where there was no future. It had happened once, causing me to lose almost everything, including my life. To me, it would not be worth it again.
“Fine. Go,” she said, unable to hold back her tears.
Her tears were not directed solely at me, though; I could tell. No, Lauren was not upset with me, but there was something else too, something I daresay she had never shared and likely would not tonight. But I had a choice. This was the pivotal point in the making or breaking of a relationship. I could walk out and Lauren would never show her face again, or I could stay and at least offer my help. But even that was questionable since she had already told me to leave. Then again, she stood before me, broken. She did not want me to see her this way, and even if I did stay, it might not be enough.
It was at that moment when I heard the noise. At first, I thought it was something in the kitchen, but the sound traveled from elsewhere, more specifically from Ms. Debbie’s office. I placed my finger on my lips, hoping to signal for Lauren to be quiet. Although she stopped crying, a rage of fury shone in her eyes. Quickly, I clasped my hand around her mouth, and she fought against it until the resounding noise fell on her ears.
Without a second thought, Lauren rushed behind me for shelter as I ushered her to hide beside the couch. There was no doubt whoever had been here before had decided to return, and we would be in their way.
“What are you going to do?” she whispered.
There was no response to give, as I was still unsure. Did Ms. Debbie own a gun, and if so, where would it be? Perhaps in the nightstand? That was too far away, and I would have to pass by the office. I worried not for myself but for Lauren. The mere thought of anyone harming Lauren boiled my blood.
Much like the instincts drawn from a horror novel, I impulsively found my hand drawn to the coffee table drawer. Sliding it open, I was almost relieved to see a .38 revolver stashed inside. It was a peculiar place to store a gun, but it told me something I had grown suspicious of.
With a firm grip, I aimed the pistol down the hall. Whoever was making their way through the window sounded as though they were inside now. Silently, I released the breath I had been holding and began walking. As I came closer, another uneasy feeling hit my stomach. The robber had to know that he was not alone. The mere smell and popping sound of the bacon sizzling in the kitchen were enough to warn anyone.
As I braced myself for the worst, I decided to see what he was doing before openly confronting him. With my free hand, I slipped my phone from my pocket and used the blank screen as a mirror on the other side of the door jamb. It was through the pale light of the desk lamp that I saw him.
While expecting a broad or stealthy brute wearing a ski mask, I saw no such attributes. Instead, a lean man dressed in everyday attire stood hunched over Ms. Debbie’s desk. Should I stay silent or ask him what he is doing? Perhaps, if I were patient, I’d learn why he was here. No doubt there was a reason for his return, but I doubted he would ever confess to anything, so I decided to wait him out.
Without ever drawing to shoot, I stood behind the door. Within a few moments, he had found what he was looking for and placed it on top of the desk. It was at that moment I knew I needed to act or he would take the paper and be gone. Unfortunately, I could not tell if he had a gun. Carefully, I continued to watch as I pulled back the hammer with a loud click. Immediately, his head jolted upward, and realizing it was time to go, he scurried toward the window. Indeed, he was quick, methodical almost, but more importantly, he was wise enough to leave behind what he had come for when introduced to the sound of a loaded gun.
Only when I knew he was gone did I lower the gun and walk into the room.
I flipped on the lights. Once the window was locked and secured, I returned my attention to the desk. By this time, Lauren had emerged from her hiding place and was waiting anxiously at the door. I could hear her breathing loudly behind me, so I motioned for her to come inside.
“Who was it? Why did he leave so fast?”
The questions rattled off, but I gave no reply as my eyes were glued to something more important, something that we had missed, perhaps because it had not been strewn across the floor. No matter. In black and white sat a parchment with my name clearly printed across the top.