Cause Of Fear. Robert Ross
This is it, Linda thinks. The breakthrough.
“What do you say, Josh? We can go down to the general store, get some bait…I saw some fishing poles in the garage.”
“I can’t go,” he says, turning away.
“Why not, Josh?”
“Because my mother will be here soon.”
Linda lets out a long sigh.
She looks out over the lake. The day is clouding over. Before a minute has passed she sees the ripple of raindrops against the water’s surface. Standing there beside Josh, she witnesses the day change from sunshine to rain in a matter of moments. Thunder rumbles overhead, and all at once the skies open and a torrential downpour drenches them on the spot. They both make a mad dash into the house.
“So odd,” Geoff says, peering out the window, “this change in weather.”
Rain pounds against the roof of the house. Linda sits reading a People magazine while her fiancé paces, still agitated by his dream.
“It was supposed to be sunny all weekend,” he grouses.
“Maybe we can go to the movies,” Linda suggests,
Geoff says nothing. He walks back and forth between windows, looking out of each of them as if one might suddenly offer him a better view.
Josh is at the dining room table, coloring with crayons in a large drawing pad. Julia has just popped him a bowl of popcorn, and he stuffs handfuls of it into his mouth as he remains intent on his work. The aroma of salty butter hangs over the room.
“It should clear up soon,” Linda says. “It must be only a passing shower.”
A great crash of lightning rattles the house, and the power shuts off.
“Oh, terrific,” Geoff moans.
The electricity flickers back on, however, and Linda goes back to reading about Ben Affleck and J. Lo.
Despite Josh’s ultimate refusal, she remains heartened by the look she had seen his eyes. I can do it, she thinks. I can win him over. It’s going to take a little time, but I can do it.
She looks over at him now, so focused on his coloring, his angelic little face scrunched up and his tongue planted on his upper lip. He may be another woman’s child, but he will become her son, too—her responsibility to raise and nurture and teach and love. Someday he’ll go to college, and get married, and have babies of his own—and Linda will be right there, watching him, proud of him, at Geoff’s side.
The day passes lazily, the rain showing no sign of letting up. Linda moves from Ben and J. Lo to Jennifer and Brad, then on to Prince William and his sexy college roommate to poor old Bob Hope, a hundred years old and still hanging on. By the time she’s finished, Geoff has gone elsewhere to pace and Julia has disappeared, but Josh is still at the table coloring, humming to himself.
Linda heads upstairs. She’ll shower, fix her hair, try to keep the gloom of the day from oppressing her the way it’s doing to Geoff. They’ll go to the mall. Josh would love that idea.
She walks into the master bedroom to run smack into Julia.
“Excuse me!” Linda says in surprise.
The nanny arches an eyebrow at her. “May I help you, Miss Leigh?”
“I was just—I was going to take a shower.”
“There’s a bathroom in your room, Miss.”
Linda can feel herself getting angry. “Let’s make it clear, Julia. While we’re staying here, this is my room. Geoff’s room is my room.”
“I don’t think it’s wise for Master Joshua to be exposed to such an arrangement.”
“His father and I see no problem with it. Josh knows we’re planning to be married. He needs to understand that I am going to be a permanent presence in his life.”
The nanny says nothing, just hardens her jaw.
“And may I ask what you are doing in here?” Linda asks.
“Just freshening up the room.” The nanny stares at her defiantly. “Making it the way Dr. Manwaring has always preferred it.”
Linda glances around. There are purple lilacs in several vases on the table and the bureau. Candles are lit on the mantelpiece, flanking a small urn in which burns a tiny flame.
“I found it in the study,” Julia says as Linda approaches the urn to study it. “I always remember it in this room. It was always lit.”
Linda holds the urn in her hand. It’s made of some kind of very old tarnished metal, with strange markings like hieroglyphics on its side. No more than six inches long by three inches high, it’s filled with oil, a short wick flickering with a tiny bluish flame.
“I believe it was hers,” Julia says.
“Hers?” Linda asks, her voice barely a whisper as she finds herself transfixed by the urn.
“Mrs. Manwaring’s.”
Linda sets the urn back down on the mantel. She shakes off the feeling that had come over her and turns with some indignation to the nanny.
“In the future, you should get Dr. Manwaring’s approval before you bring anything into this room,” she says.
Julia smiles. “Oh, but I did, Miss. Dr. Manwaring wanted the urn.”
Suddenly Linda is aware of her fiancé standing in the doorway. He looks weary and sheepish. Dark circles remain prominent under his eyes.
“Thank you, Julia, that’ll be all,” he says as the nanny nods efficiently and slips out around him back into the hall.
Linda watches him as he closes the door and comes into the room. He sits on the bed and begins rubbing his temples with his fingers.
“You wanted this?” Linda asks. “You wanted this—whatever it is?”
“It’s an urn. Gabrielle and I found it in Egypt on our honeymoon.” He doesn’t look up at her. “It’s very old. It was a real find.”
“But why do you want it in here?”
“I just thought—I don’t know. Julia showed it to me and I said okay. Put it in the room.”
“She’s very loyal, Julia.” Linda pauses. “To Gabrielle.”
“They were very close.”
“Well, I don’t want it in here. I don’t like it.”
Geoff finally lifts his eyes to look at her. “The symbols—they translate into a prayer for eternal life. It’s a piece used in veneration of the ancient Egyptian sun god, Ra. I’ve always viewed it as good luck.”
“I think it’s ugly,” Linda says stubbornly. “I don’t want it in here.”
She turns back to the mantel, her hand outstretched to pick it up again.
“No!” Geoff is on her in a flash, grabbing her arm. “Don’t put out its flame!”
“Dear God, Geoff! What’s gotten into you?”
He snatches the urn into his own grip. “I—I just don’t want you to damage it. The oil…I don’t want the flame to go out. It could—damage the inside casing—”
“How could it do that?”
He holds the urn tightly to his chest. “If you don’t like it, I’ll put it in the study.”
Linda makes a face. “You’re behaving very strangely.”
Geoff sighs. “Maybe. Maybe so. The dream…I’m still freaked out by the dream.”
Linda gives him a small smile. “I guess I can understand that.