Page 19 of Buried in the Woods Below

She offers my mom a warm smile and holds her hand out to help her from the boat. “How was dinner, Julie? Did you get those popovers you’ve been craving?” She says, not acknowledging my presence.

“It was absolutely lovely,” says my mom, greeting her with a hug and a kiss on each cheek. She points at me. “Laelynn, darling, you remember Charlotte.”

I hop onto the dock. She gives me a heavy smile and a limp hug that ends almost before it begins. “Yes, it’s good to see you. Welcome to our home.”

“Thanks for having me,” I say too loudly, trying to overpower her with cheer. I hand her a box from my gift bag.

“What’s this?”

“It’s nothing. Just a little thank-you gift for hosting me. Caramel cake from Brown Sugar Bakery. It’s a Chicago institution.”

“That’s so kind of you, Charlotte. I’m actually off sugar now, but I’m sure Eric and the girls will love it.” She turns to Eric, giving him an extended hug and kiss, one foot up in the air.

“Who’s this big guy?” I ask, pointing to the Saint Bernard.

“That’s Heathcliff,” she says, wiping the edge of her lip with a polished nail.

“He’s gorgeous. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a cute dog.”

“Yeah, he’s our big baby. You can pet him if you’d like.”

“Ah, I’d love to, but unfortunately, I’m allergic.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” she says, like I told her I have leprosy. She turns to lead us through the mist up to the house. “I hope that won’t be a problem while you’re staying here? I vacuum daily, and we don’t allow Heathcliff on the furniture, so there shouldn’t be too much dander.”

“No, I’ll be all right as long as I don’t wrestle with him.”

She ignores my joke and keeps walking ahead like Ms. Danvers at Manderley. We dutifully follow behind past the chrysanthemums. Scouts after their troop leader. “Heathcliff, out,” she shouts without looking back. I watch as he drops his head, disappointed that he’s not going for a boat ride, and bounds out of the boat, panting. As he races past me, he runs his snout along my leg, leaving a pool of snotty drool and dog hair behind on my new dress. I can already feel my allergies perking up.

Eric glances back, sees Heathcliff’s work, and laughs his champagne-fizz laugh. “Oops.”

My face burns.

My mom smiles. “I think he likes you. Less slobber than some of your previous boyfriends.”

We both laugh loudly.

Laelynn turns and shushes us. “The girls are sleeping, so please keep it down.” She walks up the lawn toward the porch, but Eric stops her.

“Honey, let’s take the path around back, so that Charlotte doesn’t have to drag her travel bag through the lawn.”

She rolls her eyes in the way married couples do but obliges, and we head up the tan gravel path around the side, me following closely behind her. When we reach the back of the house, she stops short, and I nearly crash into her.

I scan the grounds, confused at first about why we’re stopping.

Then I see her eyes.

Wide-open, unblinking, transfixed on the house.

I follow her gaze until I spot it: a yellow piece of legal paper nailed to the soft blue door, flapping in the breeze, the whip of the sheet an unsettling disharmony. Large, jagged handwriting covers the note, almost like a child’s. At first, I can’t decipher it. But then the breeze pauses, and the paper rests.

The message is simple.

LEAVE. OR ELSE.

Chapter 9

The paper snaps against the door like a whip, periods marking it like stab wounds.