Page 88 of The Attic on Queen Street
“Is this where you say, ‘It’s me, not you’?”
He stood, picked up the shopping bag and his backpack. “I’m tired,” he said. “Too tired to have this conversation now. I’m going to go to bed early.”
I knew better than to think that was an invitation like it had once been. Trying to buy more time, I said, “Aren’t you going to eat?”
He stopped by my chair, pausing for a moment before leaning down and kissing my cheek. “You go ahead. I’m not hungry.”
I pulled on his hand as he tried to straighten. “Please, Jack. What aren’t you telling me? Should I be worried?”
“No, Mellie. I just need a little more time to figure things out. I’m working on something big, and I’m not ready to talk about it yet. With anybody.”
His words stung. “But I’m not just anybody, Jack. I’m your wife.”
He pressed his lips against mine and kissed me gently. “I know. It’s not something I could forget.”
He pulled away, and stood over me for a long moment before opening the front door and letting it close softly behind him.
CHAPTER 24
Melanie.
The following Tuesday, I sat up in bed, roused from a heavy sleep by someone calling my name. I grappled for the switch on my lamp and turned it on, then frantically looked around the room. “Jack?” I said, out of hope more than anything else because it had definitely been a woman’s voice.
Melanie.
The voice had no origin, instead seeming to emanate from inside my head and in the air around me. I watched as my door creaked open, showing only empty space and the night-light-lit hallway outside. It was only then that I recognized the penetrating scent of roses, and I knew who it was.
I glanced at the baby monitor showing both JJ and Sarah sleeping soundly, their bedroom night-light illuminating Whisk firmly grasped in JJ’s fist. I made a quick mental note to ask their pediatrician if this was normal, then just as quickly dismissed the thought. For our family, “normal” wasn’t a word that was easily explained.
Recalling Rebecca’s dream, I hurried from the bed, leaving General Lee snoring on Jack’s pillow, and walked quickly down the hallwaytoward Nola’s bedroom. Her door sat wide open, revealing Nola’s empty bed with no sign of her or the two dogs.
A light shone beneath Jack’s closed door, the clicking of fingers on a computer keyboard as loud as clapping in the silent house. I turned my attention to the stairs, Rebecca’s words shouting in my head about the tall shadow of a man toppling the clock and crushing Nola.
I ran down the stairs, tripping on my nightgown on the last step and skidding into the parlor, nearly colliding with Nola.
“Melanie? Are you all right?”
I nodded, looking around for a tall shadow and seeing only Porgy and Bess romping with an invisible companion. Turning back to Nola, I said, “What about you? You’re not supposed to be anywhere near this clock, remember? Rebecca might not be a likely candidate for a reliable source, but her dreams are usually spot-on.”
“Right. I know. Stay away from tall men and the grandfather clock. But I had to come downstairs because the grandfather clock was chiming like crazy—like, about fifty times—and I wanted to see if I could stop it. Didn’t you hear it?”
I shook my head. “Maybe I’m immune to it now. But hearing it chime over and over should have awakened me. How did you get it to stop?”
She lifted her shoulders beneath her ratty Vampire Weekend T-shirt. “It just... stopped. As soon as I walked into the room. And saw this.” Nola held up an object, but I’d already smelled the ashy scent of smoke.
I broke out in a cold sweat. “Where was it?”
“She—it, I guess—was lying on the floor, faceup and sort of shoved halfway under that little space beneath the clock.”
I shuddered, tasting ash in the back of my throat. “Did, um, Dr.Wallen-Arasi stop by at any time yesterday and drop this off?” I knew it was wishful thinking, but I had to try.
“Not that I know of. I haven’t seen it in a while. Not until just now when I accidentally kicked it with my foot. That hurt, you know.”
“I’m sure it did.” I shivered in my nightgown, wishing I’d thrown on my robe. “Did you see the girl again? The one with the melted face?”
She hesitated. “Not really. I felt her, though. Like how Dad knows you’re near even before he sees you.”
When I didn’t respond, she said, “I’m not blind. You do the same thing when Dad’s around. It’s not like you can hide it. Especially from me. I write music and lyrics. I’m wired to be more attuned to human nature than most people.” She shrugged as if it was no big deal. “Sort of like the way you can talk to dead people. It’s just the way we’re made, so we might as well make the best of it.”
