Page 14 of Wildwood

Eventually, I hear the musical sound of water moving over stone. The trees become sparser, and I can see the river ahead. It is beautiful, with sunlight bouncing off clear water, colorful stones visible beneath. As I reach the embankment, I realize that I am in a bend of the river. Turning around, I see there is a large rock, taller than me, in the middle of the little peninsula that stretches out into the bend.

I’ve been here too. I look down, knowing what I’ll see. A roughly eight-foot drop to the water. Most of the river is fairly shallow, one to two feet deep. Not deep enough for diving, but deep enough to splash around in. But here, at this bend, there is a deeper pool close to the edge. Here is where, hot and sweaty from playing in the woods, we’d hold our noses and jump into the cool mountain water. There wasn’t a huge margin of error. The deep spot was maybe five feet across. I shudder now, thinking of my own child playing out here at the river.

Memories seem to be breaking free from a long-forgotten place in my brain. I look downstream. The water disappears around the bend, where it eventually flows past the house and farther down, it will pass the house that once belonged to a woman we used to call the Goat Lady. I scrunch my nose at the memory. We called her the Goat Lady not because of the herd of angry-looking goats she kept, but rather, with the cruelty of children, her visible facial hair.

I remember now that we used to take inner tubes out here. Tom would scramble down the steep embankment and Anna and I would pass him the tubes before scrambling down ourselves or jumping in the plunge pool. Then we’d float downriver, laughing like maniacs when our bums hit rocks on the shallow journey.

The Goat Lady’s yard abuts the river, and we’d hop out at her place, streaking through her yard as fast as our legs would carry us, and then hobbling back to Wildwood, bare feet on the dirt road. I groan, in spite of myself. I hope she never knew the name we’d given her.

Chapter 12

When I get back to the main property, I wander past various outbuildings. There’s the sugar shack, which looks abandoned and full of dead leaves; a long-defunct chicken coop with sagging poultry netting; and something that looks like an outhouse. Next, I wander to what looks like a shed or small barn, which stands no more than ten yards from the main house. There’s no lock on this door, which hangs open on its rusty hinges. Inside, the walls are lined with ancient-looking tools, piles of old lumber litter the floor, and a few dusty cans of gasoline lie on their sides on rickety-looking shelving. An old lawn mower sits in the middle of the small, square room. It’s strange to think that all this is ours. I half laugh to myself and wonder if this was all part of Ezra’s plan. To never get rid of anything and then leave Wildwood to next of kin, assuming they’d be too overwhelmed to try and clear it out and end up staying.

Back at the house, I grab a glass of ice water and then plant myself on the front porch to relax, Hugo at my feet. I’ve almost nodded off, when Hugo’s bark snaps me to.

“What is it, Bubbah?” I ask, scratching his head as he stands on alert. And then I notice a tall, slender woman with long, beautiful red hair walking across the street toward Wildwood. As she gets closer, I recognize her from my Google searches. It is Madeline Brook.

“Hi,” I say standing and walking down the steps quickly to meet her.

“Hello,” Madeline says warmly, holding out a hand. She is even more beautiful in person. Sparkling green eyes, glowing skin. She is wearing wide-leg, brown knit pants with a matching sleeveless top. A simple gold chain hangs around her left wrist and a large diamond flashes on the ring finger. Quiet luxury.

“I’m Madeline Brook, your neighbor.”

“It’s so good to meet you. I’m Elinor Leighton.” I’m acutely aware of how sweaty and frumpy I probably look to her.

“I’d meant to come over sooner, but we’ve had such a rainy summer.”

“No worries,” I say. “We’ve had our hands full getting settled, but things are finally feeling a bit calmer.”

“You are Ezra Bishop’s grandniece, right? I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“Yes. Admittedly I didn’t know him well. And inheriting this place was . . . a shock.” I still don’t know the right tone to strike when talking about Uncle Ezra. We weren’t close. The Brooks must know that, in a small village like this, surely they’d have met me if we had been. Or at the very least, I’d have been at the funeral.

“I can imagine,” she says sympathetically. “So . . . how are you liking it up here?”

“We love it.” I nod my head earnestly. “Truthfully my husband took a lot of convincing to get up here. He thought the idea was crazy at first. But we did it.”

A strange look briefly passes over her face, but then she runs a hand through her silky red hair and smiles. “Well, we are just so glad you did.”

I think she’s about to say goodbye, when she says, as though she’s only just remembered, “Also, two other Brook families live in the other houses on Cold Brook Drive. They’d all love to meet you too. So we wanted to invite you and your husband up for dinner.”

“That would be wonderful. And my husband is Topher.” After a week straight of just the two of us, I’m champing at the bit for fresh blood and fresh conversation.

We settle on a date and exchange contact information before Madeline strides, gazelle-like, down the driveway. When she gets to the end, she turns to wave before crossing the street.

“Madeline?” I call, working up the courage to ask a silly question.

“Yes?”

“Does anyone ever go in the woods here? Anyone besides us?” I think of the noises in the woods earlier, that sound of muffled laughter.

She gives me a strange smile. “Julian hunts, if that’s what you mean. But I think he usually stays on our property.”

“Oh no, that’s not what I meant. And it’s fine if he does use our property. I just thought I heard someone when I was out there earlier. I was just curious. Probably just an animal.” I smile, to show I’m not fussed.

She smiles knowingly. “It can be a little isolating out here if you aren’t used to it. If you ever feel spooked or like you are going a bit crazy, just know we are right across the street.”

“Oh. Okay! Thank you!”