Chapter Twenty-four
The house was perched far back on a grassy rise overlooking the street, and the driveway was large enough to accommodate at least six cars.
I pulled up next to the stone walkway, shut off the engine, and leaned forward over the steering wheel to look up at the front of the house.
It boasted a large, covered veranda with ornamental spindles, a massive front door with a half-moon shaped transom, and bay windows beneath decorative, white cornices.
After dropping my keys into my pocket, I opened the car door and got out. The rain was coming down harder by then, but I knew I couldn’t make a run for it on account of my leg, so I drew up the hood of my jacket and limped up the freshly painted blue steps.
Once I made it to the covered veranda, I lowered my hood, shook off the raindrops, and rang the bell. It chimed like an old grandfather clock.
I waited and waited, but no one answered, so I rang the bell a second time and continued to wait.
Just when I was about to turn away, the heavy oak door creaked open. Suddenly I found myself staring through the screen at a somber-looking young woman with golden hair and blue eyes set wide apart.
“Yes?” She looked as if she’d just woken from a nap.
I’m not sure if I was tongue-tied because I’d expected Leah to answer the door, or if I was knocked off kilter because there was something jarringly familiar about this woman and it sent my stomach into a spin.
Was this Holly? The tiny newborn baby I’d held in my arms twenty-five years ago? If so, she was still very petite. She couldn’t have been more than five foot two.
“I’m looking for Leah James,” I explained. “I’m Josh. Josh Wallace.”
The young woman frowned at me. For some reason, I felt a strange compulsion to apologize for my presence.
“Do I have the right house?” I asked.
She blinked a few times. “How do you know Leah?”
I raised my shoulders against the damp chill of the rainstorm and buried my hands in my pockets. “We lived on the same street when we were kids. I was best friends with her brother, Riley. Are you Holly?”
She regarded me with what appeared to be a hint of displeasure, then pushed the screen door wide open. “You should come in.”
Stepping inside, I glanced around the wide, cherry-wood panelled entranceway and spacious parlors to the left and right. Every piece of furniture was an antique and the fireplaces were enormous. “You have a beautiful home,” I said.
“Thank you.” She shut the door and folded her arms to close the long grey sweater she wore.
“So…you must be Holly?” I asked a second time.
“Yes.”
An uncomfortable silence ensued and I wondered if I should have made other arrangements to see Leah, because I did not feel the least bit welcome here.
“Actually,” I said, gazing down at her in a friendly attempt to turn things around, “you wouldn’t remember this, but we met once before. I came to the hospital to visit you on the day you were born. It was Christmas Day.”
Holly inclined her head. “That’s right. My birthday is December 25th.”
“I was only ten,” I added, “but I rocked you in a chair. You were the first baby I ever held.” I chuckled. “I was afraid I’d drop you on your head or something.”
Holly didn’t break a smile. She merely gathered her woolly sweater tighter around herself. “Have you kept in touch with Leah all this time? She never mentioned you.”
“No,” I explained. “Your family moved out of our neighborhood just before you were born. That’s when your father bought this house.” I glanced toward the stairs. “Is your mom here? I’d love to say hello to her.”
I wasn’t hopeful, because the house seemed eerily quiet.
Holly spoke in a low, monotone voice. “She and Dad went to the cottage for the weekend.”
“What about Leah?” I asked. “Is she around? I was hoping to talk to her about something.”
Holly frowned again. “No.”
“Do you know when she’ll be back?”
Pushing her hair back off her forehead, Holly took a deep breath as if to brace herself for something. “She’s not coming back. I’m sorry Josh. You obviously don’t know.”
I shook my head. “Know what?”
A chill, black tension moved across the floor and swirled around me like a snake.
“Leah died two weeks ago,” she said. “The funeral was last Tuesday.”
The grandfather clock in the front room began to chime, and I could do nothing but stare at Holly in disbelief.