Chapter 74
When I hang up the phone, I stare at it for a long time.
I am, in these moments, the woman in my dreams. I feel the noose around my neck.
I see death in front of me. I see the clearing as I come upon it.
I feel my heart shatter into a million pieces.
It shatters over and over and over again.
The story makes sense. The story fits. It explains so much, like why Alice was found trespassing on Wildwood. Alice Clark.
I need to tell Joan. I try to text her, but my phone has finally died.
I look outside. The snow is steady, but it’s not too bad, not yet, at least. The flakes are fast but small.
I pull on my winter boots and Topher’s winter jacket.
I don’t have one that fits over my belly.
I hadn’t thought I’d need one in November.
This is early for snow. A surprise blizzard.
And then I begin my journey. I trudge across the street, leaving staggering tracks in the pristine snow.
It’s powdery, at least. I cross over to Cold Brook Drive and begin the ascent up to Joan’s house.
This could be a very stupid decision. I’m walking into the lion’s den.
The three houses stand ready to pounce. It feels like I could very well just disappear up here.
I walk slowly, knowing that I’m already being far more reckless than I should be.
I can’t risk a fall. The guilt over risking my baby like this is so great that it’s almost not there, it’s too all encompassing.
It feels like I’ve fallen asleep with winter pajamas in the middle of summer and even though it’s stifling, I just say to myself, I’ll take it off later.
I push off and bury every thought that comes to my mind.
What are you doing? You are seven months pregnant.
You are being so selfish. You are betraying your child.
I bury each thought because they are too much to face.
Finally, I get to Joan’s house. I raise my hand to knock, but it opens before I can do it.
“Joan—” I start.
But it’s Julian. He leans in the doorway, arms crossed on his chest. Through his sweater, I can see the solid shape of him. He’s got heavy stubble on his face. Every bit of him looks raw and rugged.
“What are you doing here, Elinor?” He sounds almost tired or bored by the question.
“I wanted to talk to Joan,” I say, struggling to keep my voice steady.
“She can’t come out right now, she’s not feeling well. I’m sorry.” But he doesn’t sound sorry. He sounds smug.
Snow is catching on my eyelashes, and I wipe them away, annoyed that he might think I’m crying.
“It’s important,” I say. “When will she be available?”
“I don’t know, Elinor. She’s not doing well. What do you want me to do, drag her out of bed?” I clench my hands, dig my fingernails into my palm. Everything about him is so fucking obnoxious.
“I’m worried about her,” I say. “If I get too worried, I might need to call the police.” The decision to threaten him is impulsive. And I have a bad feeling that I need to be more careful with this one.
“Is that a threat?” he asks.
“Nope. Just a statement.” I force myself to look in his eyes.
“Stay away from Joan,” says Julian, moving to shut the door. “If not, you’ll regret it.”
“Is that a threat?”
“Nope, just a statement.” He smiles. “I’ll tell your husband that you’ve cheated on him. That you came on to me. I’ll tell him about that little black slip you like so much.” Then he flashes me a wicked grin and closes the door.
Making it home is a nightmare. I’m slipping and sliding all over the place.
The Brooks hadn’t plowed. And I know that if I fall and break a bone, no one is coming out to help me.
What a perfect excuse they’ll have. Another Bishop lost in the storm.
Wandered up a steep drive in the middle of a blizzard. Never stood a chance.
With great pains, though, I make it to the bottom. I cross the street and make my way carefully across the driveway and up the front porch, and through my door. I set the security system. And then I scream. I scream and scream and scream.
Then, I know what I have to do. I march upstairs and into my bathroom.
I take the bottle down from the medicine cabinet.
It’s nearly full; I’d only taken a pill a handful of times since moving up here.
I didn’t want to use it too much while pregnant.
I laugh now at that thought. I’m taking weird mushrooms, and wandering through snowstorms, and hunting murderers while pregnant. But I didn’t want to take a Unisom.
I take out a pill and pop it in my mouth, swallowing it down dry. And then I lie down in The Forest of the Dead, surrounded by trees that reach for me, beckon to me. And I’m ready for them. I need to see it all. I need to finally know exactly what happened in Newfield Village.