Gina Ranalli - House of Fallen Trees

Without so much as flinching, without even opening his eyes, Saul replied, “I think you two need to get a room.”

Rory laughed, a harsh, barking sound that was much too loud in this small space. “I have a room. And I think I’m going to head up there right now, if it’s okay with everyone. I mean, if you think you’ll be okay, Saul? No midnight treks through the woods and to the nearest hospital? Think you can handle that for me, buddy?”

At this, Saul did open his eyes, giving Rory an odd look. “Yeah,” he said. “I think I’m feeling better. I’ll be okay.”

“Good to hear.” Rory grinned predatorily. “Because, like our good friend Ms. Lewis here, I’m beat. I just don’t want to get dragged out of bed because someone is screaming again. You know what I mean?”

Saul miraculously pulled a smile out of somewhere. “No worries, man. I’m fine. Have a good rest.”

Rory nodded, moving past Karen, but stopped in the hallway and turned back to them. His smile reminded Karen of the shark in Jaws . “You kids be good now. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” He pointed at Karen. “Especially you. I haven’t been able to get in his pants for six months and I’d be pretty devastated to find out you’d stolen him from me while I was sleeping.”

Feeling herself bristle at this uncalled for crap, Karen almost opened her mouth to tell him off, but ultimately decided against doing so. At least for now. Instead, she did her best to return his smile with an obnoxiously sour one of her own. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” she said.

“Excellent.” And then he was gone, his footsteps fading off down the hall.

She waited a moment, then quietly went to the doorway and poked her head out to be sure he was really gone, half expecting him to lunge out from around the corner, wielding a knife and a maniacal grin. But the hall was empty and she released a long-held breath that had been beginning to make her chest ache.

She closed the door before turning to Saul. “What the fuck was that about?” she whispered.

Reaching for a face cloth hanging from the soap dish on the wall, Saul dunked it into the water, soaking it, before draping it over his face, giving absolutely no indication he’d even heard the question.

“Saul?” she said, louder this time.

“Mmm?”

“I asked what that was all about?”

“What?”

She couldn’t believe this. Had he really not been paying attention to the exchange that had just happened less than six feet from where he sat? “That shit with Rory,” she said, not even attempting to hide her exasperation. “Saying I called him. Was he serious?”

Beneath the damp face cloth, Saul laughed softly.

“What’s so funny?”

“I was just remembering what he said about you trying to get in my pants.”

“Oh, yeah,” she said sarcastically. “That was hilarious.” She ran a hand through her hair, dismayed that her fingers encountered so many snarls. She looked down at the bath tub enviously for a few seconds before saying, “So, was that his idea of amusing? Saying I called him up out of the blue, claiming to have Sean’s papers and all that nonsense? I mean, come on. What kind of game is he playing?”

Saul laughed again, sounding very far away. “Isn’t that what he said about you? That you’re playing a game?”

“Yeah, but I’m not. I’m not the one making shit up for who the fuck even knows why. Because he thinks its funny, I guess.”

“But you did,” Saul said.

She sighed loudly. “Did what?”

“You did call him first.”

Karen paced her bedroom, fists clenching and unclenching, wishing she could punch or kick something. Anything would do, but mostly she was wishing she could kick those two assholes in the fucking teeth. Why were they doing this to her, fucking with her this way? Was it some insurance scam? Some revenge plot? But against who and why? She’d never even met Rory before so she knew whatever was going on couldn’t have anything to do with her. Unless…

Unless he thought he was avenging Sean somehow.

But what had she ever done to Sean? Nothing she could think of that warranted this kind of insanity. Just typical brother/sister shit every person with a sibling goes through. And all of that stuff was ancient history. She’d barely even seen her brother in what…five years? Maybe more?

Of course, she supposed it was possible that was the problem right there. Though Sean had never said anything to her about wishing she’d visit, had never asked her to, maybe Rory thought she should have. Hell, maybe Sean actually complained to Rory that his family never made the trip out west to see him. For all she knew, it was a big deal to Sean. She went over to the dresser and took a sip of the whiskey she’d helped herself to before coming to her room. She’d gone back down to the living room and taken her glass and the bottle back up with her and now she was just beginning to feel its effects. The booze was taking a bit of the edge off which was exactly what she needed right now.

How dare Rory have said such things to her, all but accusing her of…of what? Screwing up his plans for the B&B somehow? He probably thought she’d brought a jar of piranha fleas smuggled in her suitcase and then released them while she’d been in the basement, knowing full well they could eat a person alive.

She felt like bellowing a loud maniacal laugh, loud enough for him to hear from his room down the hall, letting him know how evil she was and how well her plan was working.

The thought amused her a great deal as she sat down on the edge of the bed, sipping her drink and smiling to the empty room. Imagining herself as an evil villain was kind of fun, she thought. Perhaps she should write a story from a super-villain’s perspective. The prospect was entertaining.

She considered it for a while, but knew before she could write anything enjoyable, she had to get back to her journal about this visit to Falling Trees. Setting the glass on the night table, she crossed the room and brought the bottle back, putting it beside the glass so it would be within easy reach. No longer particularly tired, she made herself comfortable on the bed with her laptop, opened the document, and sat there chewing her lower lip for a while. After drumming her fingers lightly on the keyboard for several minutes, she reached for her glass and took a long swallow, draining it. As she removed the glass from her lips, she looked up to see a figure across the room. The empty glass clattered onto the computer before rolling off onto the bed.

Karen gasped as her lungs seemed to freeze inside her chest.

The figure appeared to be a frail old man, his back to her, kneeling before the cedar hope chest. His back heaved gently; he was weeping, though Karen heard nothing. Face in hands, the old man’s bald and spotted head bobbed slightly with each silent intake of breath.

Feeling a trembling beginning in her hands, Karen wanted nothing more than to cover her face, will this apparition away, snap out of it goddammit! She closed her eyes, opened them again, but the old man remained, seemingly oblivious to her presence and now the hope chest wasn’t a hope chest at all anymore. No. No, it was a coffin now. A coffin just like the ones she’d seen in the basement and the old man’s body shook and shook, devastated by the death of… who ?

Without even thinking about it, on the verge of tears, she reached for the empty glass beside her on the bed, wrapped her hand around it and screamed aloud as she threw it across the room at the old man’s flannel back. The glass passed right through him and shattered against the coffin which was once again a hope chest and then he was gone as though he’d never been there at all.