Page 42 of Buried in the Woods Below

Chapter 21

August 31–September 1

Olivia, Eric, and I retreat early for the night, none of us wanting to incur Laelynn’s wrath any further. In the guest bed, I lie stiff beneath borrowed sheets, jaw clenched, her voice still scraping at my nerves. On any other day, I would simply tell her off and be gone. But tonight, I’m marooned—no car, no way out. Her house, her rules. All I can do is swallow the bitter taste and lie there, stewing in it.

I’m reminded of the cost of accepting favors. It feels like when I accept the gift, in exchange I give up the freedom to be myself. To tell someone what I really think of them.

I imagine what I’d say if I could: That she’s a passive-aggressive tyrant. That she has a wonderful, doting husband, whom she bosses around like a damn dog. That she acts like she deserves it. As though we all exist to serve her. She doesn’t understand how fragile life is. How fate can steal everything in an instant.

Am I being too harsh? She’s just trying to protect her kids. Be a conscientious mother. A supportive wife.

No.

That’s what she wants you to think. Always the victim. The martyr. But she gives herself away.

It’s her snide tone. Even when I’m trying to do her a favor. I’m sure you weren’t. Trouble seems to follow you. With that smug, self-satisfied expression on her face. Like I’m still twelve years old. Like she knows something I don’t. I’d like to choke it right out of her.

I lie in bed, my toes curling, my head pulsing, and my fury building. My body cooks beneath the duvet, and the crickets’ screech seems to grow with my anger. I don’t care if it offends the Parkers. I have to leave this place. Every day I’m here, a layer of myself is flayed away—by Laelynn, the girls, the island.

I’ll talk to Eric and Olivia tomorrow.

I drift off, the dark thoughts infecting my mind, and I feel myself tossing and turning, clenching my teeth and flexing my muscles. Rage builds inside my subconscious. I’m running through the grass. From someone. No, toward someone. The lake is ahead of me. Black. Ready to swallow me whole.

The next morning I wake up, my bed and hair drenched in sweat, my heart slamming in my chest, my muscles burning. My hands are raw from clenching. I suck in air like I’ve just surfaced from drowning, a guttural sound tearing from my chest. The nightmare lingers at the edges of my mind, something about water, about sinking, about drowning. The weight presses against my chest, but the details slip away the moment I blink into consciousness.

I sit up and shake my head as if I can physically knock the nightmare out of my brain. My room stands in stark contrast to my dreams. Sunlight glows beneath the curtains, illuminating the sailboats on my wallpaper, making them appear as if they’re about to set sail. A lonely loon call echoes off the lake. My nose catches a hint of morning dew.

I’m safe.

I shove my nightmare aside and drag myself out of bed. As I run the toothbrush over my teeth and make my bed, I remind myself it was all a dream. I tear off my drenched pajamas, throw on a swimsuit, and steel myself for another day in paradise. I peek my head out my bedroom door, hoping I won’t bump into Laelynn on her way to her retreat.

Laelynn.

She was in my dream. Was she drowning me?

I check beside the back door for evidence she’s still here. Fortunately, the purse and suitcase she left beside the door are gone.

She’s gone.

Thank God.

I exhale, and a smile drifts across my face, the kind of smile you get when finals are over and summer’s just begun. Only now, in her absence, do I recognize the weight she carried into every room.

My phone buzzes. It’s Carlos.

Hey, I’ve got good news and bad news. Bad news is I had to fill in for someone at work, so it looks like I won’t get there until tomorrow evening. The good news is that will give me time for one more ab workout. 😀 Will text you when I make it to the Twin Cities.

I smile and drop my phone to my chest. Part of me always assumed Carlos would bail, like so many of the bros I’ve dated before him. Now it’s becoming real. Carlos, here. The thought lands with an unexpected thud.

A curl of unease sneaks through me. Why? Is it because I haven’t been with a man in nearly a year? Maybe it’s that nagging part of me that thinks Carlos is just a little too slick. Or is it because of Eric? Because of Laelynn?

Laelynn’s gone.

That shouldn’t matter. He’s married, after all. But it does. There’s still that twelve-year-old girl in me saying, “Are you kidding? You get to spend the weekend alone (sort of) with Eric Parker.”

I start typing.

Sorry to do this, but I need to cancel. It’s a long story. I’ll tell you when I get back.