Page 32 of Buried in the Woods Below

Eric just strokes Heathcliff, too grief-stricken to be weighing causes of death.

Laelynn pulls away. Her hand lingers before dropping to her side. Our eyes lock. The pressurized energy I’ve come to expect from her is gone. She sways slightly, as if the ground might give out beneath her. Her eyes flick past me, searching, like she’s just realized she’s lost something she doesn’t know how to live without. I see it then, just for a moment: the woman beneath the armor. Worn thin. Breakable.

“Laelynn, what can I do to help?”

She gasps as if rising from underwater. Wipes her eyes, swallows, and the stiff upper lip returns. She pats me on the shoulder.

“Please take the girls to their room and make sure they stay there. I don’t want them to see Heathcliff.”

I swallow the lump in my throat and head inside. As my footsteps crunch on the gravel, I try to block the image of Heathcliff from my mind so the girls don’t see it in my expression.

I plaster a smile on my face and jog up the patio steps, doing my best to convey an everything-is-normal vibe despite my stomach feeling ripped out. But when I open the patio door, I notice the girls are gone. For a moment, I panic, but then I hear faint laughter from upstairs. They must have gone to their room. They hear their mom scream and see their dad sprint out in a panic and then just head to their room like nothing’s happened? Who are these girls?

I jog up the floating staircase, taking them two at a time, twelve stairs in all. I don’t know where their room is, but I listen for them. High-pitched giggles waft from behind the white paneled door at the end of the hallway.

My hand’s on the doorknob when it hits me: I have no idea what to say. I take a deep breath and decide I’ll just act normal and play. Of course, I’ve never really played with kids, so I don’t know what that entails, but I’ll figure it out.

I knock on the door. The girls invite me in. I force my cheeks upward.

As I enter, I am immediately struck with envy. White-and-blue Peter Rabbit wallpaper lines the walls, and a floor-to-ceiling bay window overlooks the lake. The scent of kid-shampoo fills the air. A sailboat-shaped bunk bed runs along the left wall; a bookcase stuffed with children’s books anchors the right. A tiny desk littered with paper and crayons rests beside the window overlooking the lake. The girls sit on the floor on an oversize Richard Scarry apple car mat playing with dolls.

As I walk in, they appraise me. “Hello, Ms. Charlotte,” they say in unison. I smile and greet them, but goose bumps break out on my arms. I can’t help the sensation that I’ve entered the hotel from The Shining every time I see them.

I look down to see what they’re playing with, and the tingle moves up my arms to my neck. Emma, the twin without a mole, holds a doll in one hand and a pair of scissors in the other. But this isn’t an ordinary doll. It’s antique porcelain with dark eyes, a haunting, dead expression, and a deathly pale face except for blush-filled cheeks. She wears a yellowed, ruffled dress, ravaged by time, and blond hair. But it’s the hair that strikes me. Blond hair that looks…human. And there’s a pile of it on the floor.

Emma turns it and presents it to me, with a smile on her face. “Look, Ms. Charlotte, we made it look like you.” Both girls burst out giggling.

I inspect the doll, and my breath catches. They’ve cut her hair in the same butterfly cut as my hair. It’s like looking at myself as an ancient corpse.

I return the smile but can’t help feeling that I’m being mocked. “That’s very nice, girls. Thank you for doing that.”

“You’re welcome,” Emma says and returns her attention to the haircut while Penelope coaches her.

“Where did you get the doll? It looks old,” I ask, picking up a few loose Legos off the floor.

“It’s Daddy’s,” says Penelope.

“You mean your daddy gave it to you?”

“No, silly. It’s Daddy’s. He collects them.”

More goose bumps. “Your dad collects dolls?”

“Yeah, from the old amusement park.”

“Ah, I see.” I pause, trying to imagine Eric hunting for dolls in the woods. “Do you think you should be cutting the doll’s hair, then?”

They both shrug.

I walk toward the window, not wanting to stare at my ghoulish doppelgänger any longer than necessary. I spot Olivia walking into the house from the lake, skin glistening, face tilted to the sun. My stomach cinches at the thought of her finding out about Heathcliff. I consider intercepting her, but Laelynn gave me orders, and I don’t want to piss her off any more than I already have. Plus, Olivia’s parents will break the news to her more tactfully than I ever could.

“So, what do you guys want to do today?” I say, turning back toward them.

“Don’t know,” says Penelope, laser-focused on the doll.

I spot a few board games on the shelves. “We could play Candy Land? I used to love that game when I was a kid.”

Penelope scrunches her face. “No, thanks.”