Familiar Spirit

Chapter Fifteen

Now, after more than a week away, she was home again.

Sarah sat in her car and stared at the house and wondered why she had come. Was it just stubbornness? After all that had happened, anyone else would have given up the house and moved elsewhere with a feeling of relief. What was she trying to prove, and to whom?

Part of the reason she had come back, Sarah knew, was that she didn’t want to go on living with the Marchants. Beverly was her friend again—all problems had been buried when she saw that Sarah needed her—but Pete was not. Things were not the same among the three of them, and Sarah wondered if they would ever be. He kept his distance. No matter what they talked about, Pete was guarded, as if he could not trust her. And he looked at her with a coldness that made her want to cry.

There was an apartment in the Marchants’ complex which was available. She could move there easily enough. Perhaps she would. It wasn’t giving in, to move. It wasn’t an admission of defeat. But that decision couldn’t help her now. She might decide not to live here, but she had to go back inside, at least this once. If only to prove to herself that Jade was gone.

Courage is doing what you’re afraid to do, because you have to, she told herself as she got out of the car and walked towards the house.

The last time she had seen it there had been an ambulance and two police cars behind the house, and she had been trying to give the police some sort of coherent story. She had telephoned for help within a minute of Valerie’s cutting her own throat—telephoned, and then, still afraid Jade would have some last deadly trap waiting for her, had bolted out of the house, and waited on the street below as the sound of sirens came nearer.

The police had been suspicious, but not at all unkind. Sarah had been taken to the hospital, where her arm was stitched up, and she was kept there overnight. For observation, they said. Sarah reflected that it was better than a jail cell, but in fact she liked it. It was nice to be taken care of, to be obliged to do nothing but sleep. And while she slept, and ate the bland, pleasant food, and watched television shows she would never have looked at under other circumstances, the police were checking out her story. Sarah had kept close to the truth in what she told the police, only leaving out her own dealings with Jade, implying that Jade was an imaginary obsession of Valerie’s. Valerie’s lover testified that Valerie had attempted suicide at least once before—not in his presence, but he had seen the scar on her wrist—and that she believed herself to be in communication with some sort of demon or devil who told her what to do.

It wasn’t long before the verdict was in: Valerie had committed suicide while the balance of her mind was disturbed, possibly under the influence of drugs, and Sarah was an innocent bystander lucky to have escaped with her own life.

Valerie is dead, and so is Jade, Sarah told herself now. Jade was dead, he had to be dead. But still she felt the niggling fear that Jade had somehow survived, that he had been able to abandon Valerie’s dying body for some other, nearby, mortal shell—a bird on the roof, a cockroach in the walls.

Sarah looked around at the weedy lawn, at the dead brown leaves and bare branches against the grey sky, and wondered if somewhere a pair of eyes, yellow as fire, watched her. She let herself in by the back door.

The house was quiet. It was an old, empty house. Sarah paused and listened and all that she heard were noises from outside: a few, trilling bird cries, and the rushing sound of traffic, and the wind in the trees.

In the living room the broken wall still gaped, revealing the fireplace within, but the rubble had been swept away, cleaned up along with the blood. Sarah wondered if she had the police to thank for that.

She wondered where Jade had gone.

Had he evaporated, simply vanished like a drop of water on a hot stove, erased by the hammer blows and the final slice of the knife? Was there a hell somewhere that claimed his spirit?

Accept it, she told herself. Believe it. Jade is gone.

But she had no evidence. She wanted something more certain than a pile of green sand and the memory of Valerie’s smile.

Sarah trailed around the house feeling at a loss, already bored. There was nothing for her here. The house was too big and empty. She had nothing to do here. No more demons to fight, no more mysteries to solve. The thought made her oddly sad. And then she knew she would not stay. Someone else could live here; someone who would be free of her memories and nightmares. She would see about that apartment the first thing in the morning. In a different place she would still be alone, but there would be other distractions, and fewer memories. It would be nice to live so close to Beverly without feeling she was intruding, and good to live on a shuttle bus route, to escape the problems of finding parking on campus every day.

Having made her decision, Sarah was suddenly restless, eager to get on with her life. Already her life in this house was fading into the past. But she would spend the night here—having made such a big deal about her ability to do so to Pete, she could hardly go back to their apartment now. She would need some things for breakfast—a trip to the store was an easy, immediate answer to her restlessness.

As she pushed her cart up and down the aisles of the Safeway, Sarah fell into a daydream about the apartment she would rent. She imagined it as being much like the Marchants’, only smaller. Her elderly, mismatched furniture would make it look very different. She thought of the advantages of central heating and air conditioning.

She turned down the next aisle and there they were. Brian and his Melanie.

It was too late to back up. They had already seen her, and she would not be the one who retreated. She had nothing to be ashamed of; it was Brian who should blush and feel uncomfortable. She felt a cold, steely anger towards him. He had not called once in the past week, although he must have known. For all his professions of friendship he was a coward. He had not had the courage to call her at a time when all her friends were offering their sympathy and help. Her hurt had turned to anger, and that made it easier to face him now.

“Hi,” she said when she drew near.

To her surprise Brian looked neither guilty nor embarrassed. Instead, his face lightened when she spoke, and a look of pleased relief spread across it with his smile. “Sarah! Good to see you! Of course, you must shop here now—I’d forgotten we were in your neighborhood. We came here because Melanie’s got a card on file and we needed to cash a check. She used to live in an apartment just off Medical Parkway.”

Sarah shrugged away his nervous babble. “I won’t be living around here much longer,” she said. She spoke to Brian, and concentrated on him, but bits of Melanie came through almost subliminally. Melanie was very pretty. She was blushing and her eyes were cast down and she leaned against Brian like a shy child. Against his bulk, she did look as small and vulnerable as a child.

“Really? You’re moving? Why?”

She stared at him. Everyone else, after hearing of Valerie’s death, had assumed that Sarah would want to move out, to leave that horrible experience physically behind. But Brian had obviously not thought that; his broad, handsome face was guilelessly puzzled and interested.

She shrugged, wondering if he would see her decision to move as cowardly. She still wanted him to think of her as brave. She could never lean and blush, like Melanie. “I just don’t want to stay there,” she said. “You know.”

But it was obvious that he did not know. “What, is it too big for you, after all? Or too far out of the way? I guess it might be kind of tough for a woman alone, but you did seem to like it.”

“I changed my mind.” Was it possible? Could he really not know? She couldn’t imagine why he should pretend ignorance—it wasn’t like him. Brian often evaded difficulties, but he wasn’t a liar. She knew that he often managed to live in his own private world, undisturbed by outside realities. But even though he often went for weeks without glancing at a newspaper or watching the news, surely her name, or the address of the house, would have caught his attention? Surely someone, some mutual friend, would have commented on it. Valerie’s suicide had been very much in the news for two days.

“You found a new place yet?” he asked.

Sarah shrugged. “A possibility. Nothing definite.”

Brian hugged Melanie closer to him. “It’s an interesting coincidence,” he said. “Mel and I have been talking about getting a bigger place. A place where we could have a dog, maybe. The place we’re in now—well, you know it’s kind of crowded for two.”

Sarah nodded, her gaze flickering across Melanie and back again to Brian, thinking, Crowded, yes, but I thought you liked that. That suffocating warmth and closeness. Symbiosis. She remembered Brian’s words the day he had told her about Melanie—words that still hurt. She needs me. She needs me to take care of her. She needs me in a way you don’t.

You’re right, Sarah thought now. She needs you and I don’t—at least, I don’t need you in the way you need to be needed.

But there was no triumph in the thought. She might not need him, but she still wanted him—she still felt his absence like a painful emptiness inside her. Even her anger at him, even the desire to hurt him, didn’t change that.

“So maybe we could work something out,” Brian went on in his most persuasive voice. “You’re looking for some­thing smaller and closer in, and we’re looking for something bigger. Why don’t we trade?”

Sarah stared at him, scarcely able to believe what he had said. His suggestion went beyond insensitivity—it was obscene. She couldn’t answer him.

“Sarah? What do you think?”

“No. Hell, no.” Her hands gripped the metal and plastic handle of the grocery cart and she leaned into it. “How can you even ask? What do you think, Brian? You think I miss you so much I want to move into your old apartment and make it a shrine to you? To help me remember you better?”

She knew that look on his face well. He was trying to avoid a fight. He thought she was being unreasonable, and he was trying to find words that would soothe her rather than stir her to greater rage, and knew already from past experience that he hadn’t a chance.

She shook her head and backed away before he could speak.

“Sarah, look, don’t go. Don’t get upset. What are you getting so upset for? It was just a suggestion. If you’re not interested—”

“Damn right I’m not interested.” She turned the cart around and continued to walk away from them.

“All right, you’re not interested in my place. But we still like yours. It would be perfect for us, all that space. Could you mention us to your landlord?”

He had been raising his voice steadily as she walked away from him. As she turned the corner, Sarah looked back over her shoulder and said, “Forget it. Just forget it.”

But of course he didn’t.

The telephone rang a couple of hours later, while she was watching television. Repressing a quick, nervous tremor, she walked back to the kitchen to answer it. It was Brian.

“Look, Sarah, I’m sorry if I upset you at the store,” he said, speaking quickly as if afraid she would hang up on him. “I just wasn’t thinking—I mean, I meant it as a purely practical suggestion. I wasn’t thinking of the emotional aspects. I didn’t realize how it would sound to you.”

Sarah grimaced. No, of course he hadn’t. If he had meant to hurt her it might have been easier to bear. She detected the hand of Melanie in this call: on his own, it would not have occurred to Brian that he owed her an apology.

“All right,” she said. “I overreacted. Apology accepted.”

“Great.” She could almost see his smile. “So you don’t mind us moving into your house?”

She stiffened. “Yes, I would mind.”

“So you are carrying a grudge.”

“It’s not that.”

“Then what is it? Sarah, you’ve only been there a few weeks and you want to move out. How much sentiment can you feel for it? Why should it make any difference to you if total strangers move in or if we do?”

Sarah sighed. “Brian, believe me, there is a reason. Don’t you wonder why I’m moving out of this great house?”

“Well . . . like you said. It’s awfully big for one person, and it’s kind of out of the way.”

She closed her eyes. “No, Brian. I didn’t say that. You said that.” But she hesitated. If he really didn’t know—

“So what is it? Bad plumbing?”

“The girl who lived here before I did. She was crazy. And she killed herself.”

Interest sharpened his voice. “It’s haunted?”

“No!” Too vehement. Sarah bit her lip. “No, Brian. She killed herself just last week. While I was living here. She came over here with a big knife in her purse and she cut her throat right in front of me.”

“My God,” Brian said, sounding awed. “She probably meant to kill you.”

Sarah said nothing.

“Oh, wow,” he said softly. “I see . . . I understand. I’m sorry, Sarah. It must have been awful for you.”

Sarah shrugged and said nothing.

“But, Sarah, there’s no reason for us not to move in. I mean, horrible as it was for you . . . the house isn’t going to stand empty. Somebody is going to move in. I’m sure there are apartments and houses all over town where people have died and other people go on living there. The idea doesn’t disturb me at all.”

“What about Melanie?”

“Huh?”

“She might not like the idea.”

“I’m sure she’ll agree with me. She’ll like the house once she sees it.”

Of course, thought Sarah. Melanie would go to hell on vacation if you asked her to. And agree with you that it was a great resort, if a trifle too hot. She felt tired of the argument, and tired of Brian.

“Look,” she said. “Just forget it, please. There are plenty of houses in Austin. I’m sure you and Melanie can find one you’ll like a lot better than mine.”

“It’s not like you to be so selfish, Sarah,” he said angrily. “I’m not asking you to make some huge sacrifice. All I want to know is the name of your landlord. You don’t even have to recommend us.”

“I haven’t even told her I’m moving out,” Sarah said. “When I do . . . I’ll give her your name.”

“You mean it?”

“Yes, I mean it. Her name is Mrs. Owens. She’s probably out of the hospital by now—she had a stroke. She’d prob­ably be grateful to me for finding a new tenant, to save her the trouble.” As she spoke, Sarah could see Valerie’s thin face and sly smile as she told her the same thing.

“That’s great of you, Sarah,” Brian said, making his voice humble. “I knew you’d understand.”

Sarah made a face and saw it reflected, distorted, in the glass in the kitchen door.

“When were you going to move out?”

“I don’t know. As soon as I can. Maybe within a week. Just as soon as I’ve got a place to move to.”

“That’s great,” Brian said again, meaninglessly. “I’ll talk to you about it some more later, okay? I really appreciate this, you know. We both do.”

The “both” stung, but she tried not to mind it. As she hung up, Sarah had a sudden, vivid image of Melanie—fragile, childlike Melanie—standing in the middle of the kitchen floor, body twisted and tormented, her face a mask of pain and fear. She saw a bloody knife; saw a line of scarlet blossom at her throat.

Hatred, a feeling as hot and sweet as pleasure, rushed through her. How she would love to see that, to see Melanie in agony, destroyed. As quickly as the desire had come it was gone, and Sarah felt weak with shame. It was natural to resent Melanie, natural to want revenge, but she couldn’t let herself think about that—she didn’t really want that—not for Melanie or anyone.

The unexpected violence of her emotion left her feeling shaky, and she looked around uneasily, wondering if she had been wrong to give in to Brian. But Jade was gone, she told herself. He was dead. The house was empty, empty and safe. Brian and Melanie would be perfectly safe here; just as safe as anyone else who lived here. She would be safe herself, but she did not choose to stay.

Sarah had a hard time falling asleep that night. She lay awake a long time in the dark, empty bedroom, tossing on the new bed. She tensed at every sound, afraid that something was wrong. It was hard to accept that the battle was over and she had won, that she could sleep safely now. When she didn’t think of Jade, her thoughts turned relentlessly to Brian. Her earlier annoyance with him had faded, leaving behind the old, familiar ache. How long, she wondered, before she stopped missing him, stopped wanting him back?

I need to find someone else, she thought. It was time to get out, to meet new people, to go to parties again. It was possible in Austin to find some sort of party every weekend. It was time to stop mourning and get back into the swing of things. With someone new to think about and hold, she would not miss Brian so much.

That settled, Sarah snuggled deeper into the bed, pulling the blankets closer around her. The sound of the insects outside lulled her. It would be like the old days, she thought, when she and Beverly had found dates for each other.

She was half-asleep now, remembering the past and drifting into dreams. She rolled over in the soft, yielding bed and pressed herself against the comfort of Brian’s warm, naked body. Vague, sexual thoughts stirred within her, and she pressed her breasts against his back. Was he awake? She slipped her arms around him and trailed her fingers teasingly down his chest, his stomach, lower still . . .

He caught her hands gently and folded them around his penis, which was already half erect. She felt it swell within her hands and she sighed, pleased. He moved, turning within her arms to face her.

Moving to accommodate him, Sarah opened her eyes and was alone. Her arms, reaching out to embrace a phantom, were empty.

She shuddered, and tears rose in her eyes. A dream. Just a dream. Moonlight spilled coldly through the window, illuminating nothing but the emptiness around her. She didn’t belong here, alone in this big, empty house. She had no home.