Cause Of Fear. Robert Ross
shoulders, expecting him to pull away from her. But he doesn’t.
“My mother is coming,” he says softly, almost hypnotically. “My mother is coming.”
“Oh, Josh.”
Linda drops to a stooping position beside him so that her eyes are level with his. She sees he’s crying. Her heart breaks.
“Oh, Josh, your mother isn’t coming. I know how much you must miss her. I know you must think I’m here to replace her, to make you forget her. But I’m not, Josh. I know I can never take your mother’s place. She’ll always live in your heart. I don’t want you to forget her.”
He turns his small face to look at her. The moonlight casts a soft white glow across his features. A tear drops down his cheek.
“But she’s not coming, sweetheart. We don’t know where she is. Your dad tried to find her. You know that. But she’s gone. I know that’s hard to understand. I wish I could give you a better explanation. But I can’t.”
Josh just looks deep into her eyes.
“Will you come in the house with me now?” Linda asks gently.
The boy begins to cry harder. He allows Linda to take him into her arms. He buries his face in the folds of her robe and sobs. She holds him tightly for several moments, then lifts him and carries him back into the house.
There’s little chance of sleeping after that. She tosses and turns, dreaming of Josh, a little forlorn elf standing at the foot of the driveway. She sees his tearful face as she lay him back into bed, bringing the blanket up around him. She hears his muffled cries in her dreams, and she can sleep no more.
The sun is beginning to rise when she finally gives up on her rest. Geoff is snoring now, seemingly back to normal, rattling like a bear. Linda throws on a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt. She peeks in on Josh. Sound asleep. She smiles and makes her way downstairs.
She’s glad Julia isn’t awake yet. She puts the coffee on herself. She mixes flour and eggs in a bowl for pancakes. Maybe things are changing. Maybe Josh will come around. He let her hold him. He let her pick him up and put him to bed.
The coffee helps to waken her, to throw off the lethargy of the night. Linda stands in the kitchen, sipping its warmth, leaning against the counter and watching the shadows of the room disappear. The pink light of dawn slices through the windows. It’s going to be a beautiful day.
She walks outside into the yard. This will be my house, she thinks. Our house. Mine and Geoff’s. Mine and Geoff’s and Josh’s. Our family’s house.
The tulips in the side garden are beginning to open. Had Gabrielle planted them? It doesn’t matter: they’re Linda’s now.
The sun is still low enough in the sky to cast long blue shadows across the yard. Linda loves the very early morning. She often gets up this early so she can jog or head to the gym before work. She’ll do a run through Boston Common and marvel at the light, at the solitude, at the peacefulness. In a few hours the city would turn into a bustle of energy and frantic, angry noise, but at dawn it was quiet and respectful.
In the front yard there are daffodils, most past their bloom, but a few still soldier on. She’ll add more bulbs in through here, she thinks. Hyacinths and narcissi. Make it a vibrant spring garden.
Something catches her eye. Down in the road, there’s a figure, still far off but walking this way. Someone else out enjoying the first light of day.
Linda watches. The person walks from the east, so is little more than a silhouette in the glow of the rising sun. Linda holds her coffee mug close to her chest as she keeps her eyes on the figure. She can’t seem to move from the spot. The person gets closer, growing larger. Linda can make out a cloak, a long full flowing cloak. And a hood.
She suddenly feels cold terror. She wants to run, scream, hide in the house, but she’s rooted in place, unable to look away. The figure approaches.
It is a woman.
Send her away, Linda prays. Dear God, send her away.
The woman has stopped now at the foot of the driveway, the same spot where Josh had stood last night, crying into the dark.
“Hello,” she calls.
Linda doesn’t move or respond.
The woman in the long black cloak advances up the driveway. In the trees, a large bird begins to caw manically. Linda can’t see the woman’s face, as it remains shadowed within her large, full hood. She braces herself. The woman keeps walking toward her.
“Hello,” she says again.
“Hello,” Linda whispers.
“I’m looking for Dr. Manwaring.”
The woman has stopped just a few feet away. Linda still can’t clearly see her face.
“Who are you?” Linda asks in a small, choked voice.
The woman reaches up and folds down her hood, revealing hair of startling gold. She smiles.
“I’m his wife,” she says.
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