Red: Into the Dark (2 page)

Red

It’s already dark when I pull into onto Grandmother’s street. I should have hurried, but my boss has a nasty habit of keeping me long after I’m ready to leave. That’s my fault. I should stand up for myself, I know. It’s just that when you’ve been kissing ass your entire life, trying to get ahead, learning how to stop and stand up for yourself can be hard.

It can be damn near impossible.

Cute two-story homes line the street of Gram’s suburban road. I feel good about her living here. She might be getting older, but she deserves to be happy, and I know that here, she’s surrounded by kids and young families. She gets to spend her free time baking cookies for the neighborhood kids and babysitting and listening to their problems.

She loves it, and I miss her.

She’s left the porch light on for me and it glows like a beacon of hope: a beacon of safety. Her car is in the driveway and her neighbors are obviously all home because the curb in front of her house already has a car in front of it. I park a ways down the road from her house and haul my duffel bag up to her porch. I’m ready for our weekend getaway.

I don’t need to knock, but I do, anyway. Old habits die hard. Even though I haven’t lived with Gram in awhile, I still try to show her respect by knocking. It’s a little thing, but it’s one way I remind her that I know that this is
her
space. I’m her guest and she’s invited me. I don’t expect anything from her.

She doesn’t
owe
me anything.

I hear the pitter-patter of her feet against the hardwood floor and I smile as I imagine her peeking through the peephole. Gram
never
lets anyone in without peeking first. She’s a stickler for safety that way.

In some ways, I’m glad she’s so stringent when it comes to her own safety. It means I’m not constantly worried about her. A lot of people feel fear when it comes to their grandparents living on their own, but not me. Gram is one independent, happy ol’ gal and I’m lucky to have her in my life.

“Red,” she says finally, opening the door with a smile.

“Thanks for letting me sleep over,” I hug my grandmother tightly. I don’t care how cliché it is. She smells like freshly baked cookies and Christmastime.

Always.

“Anytime, dear,” she says softly. “Anytime.”

It’s been awhile since I lived with Grandma. Now that I live in the port town of Nellenston, working at a law firm, I don’t see her nearly as much as I ought to. I went to college in Ashborne, where she lives, and we made wonderful roommates. When my parents died freshman year, it made sense that I would live with Grandma. We were both heartbroken and lost, but we managed to get through the darkness together.

Without her, I don’t know what I would have done.

Nobody expects to lose their parents as an 18-year-old. It just doesn’t happen. I learned the hard way that it does happen, though, and that there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.

Gram kept me sane. Her own heartbreak at losing her daughter and son-in-law was evident, but she was able to see past her own sadness enough to help me. I know I can never repay her for that, but I do my best.

That’s what this weekend is all about: reconnecting, being grateful, and communicating. We’re going to have some hardcore “girls only” time that’s long overdue.

We used to hang out every day. I miss it. Now that I’m constantly swamped with legal cases, I only see her once or twice a month. It’s not often enough. I know Grams is worried about intruding on my life as a new graduate, but the truth is that I feel the same way.

Does she really want to spend her retirement listening to the problems of her 25-year-old grandkid?

I didn’t think so.

I close the door to the little house and follow Grandma into the kitchen. I take a deep whiff and my stomach immediately growls. She shoots me a knowing look, and I smile sheepishly. We both know I’m really bad about remembering to eat. It’s definitely one of those things that falls under “I should have learned this by now.”

“Cookies?” I ask. “Did you bake just for me?”

She smiles and nods toward a plate in the center of the counter, where a pile of chocolate chip cookies are cooling. Her grin is big when she notices my reaction.

“Of course, dear. I can’t have my favorite granddaughter going hungry, now can I?”

“I’m your only granddaughter,” I say with a mouthful of cookies, and she waves me away. A glass of milk appears in front of me and I down it quickly, then wipe my face with the back of my sleeve.

“Just like when you were a girl,” Grandmother says, shaking her head in mock protest. “Some things never change.”

Grandma picks up her knitting and asks me all about work and I quiz her on her quilting group. I want to know how Betty and Carrie and Mrs. Helsley are doing. They’re all alive and kicking, Grandma assures me, though Mrs. Helsley has been busy with new projects and hasn’t been to meetings in awhile.

By 10:00, I’m exhausted, and I can’t hide my yawn.

“Bedtime for you,” Grandma says, and I roll my eyes.

“I guess we have an early morning,” I concede, and she just laughs.

“You always were a stubborn one, little Red.” I kiss Grandma goodnight and head upstairs to my old room. Technically, it’s the guest room, but I lived there for four years in college, so I always think of it as mine.

I brush my teeth and crawl into bed. At dawn, we’re heading out on a camping trip, just the two of us. It’s been awhile since we went up to her old hunting cabin, but I know it’s going to be a great week of relaxing and enjoying the wilderness together. We’re going to swim and eat and read. She’ll knit and I might work on a new art project.

The possibilities are endless.

As a girl, I always loved the woods and now, the chance to get out of Nellenston for a little while is much too tempting. There are too many weird things to deal with at work right now, too many strange problems and issues. I haven’t had a break since I started my job just after graduation and if I do say so myself, I think I’m well overdue for something like this.

I snuggle up under the heavy handmade quilt and for once in my life, everything just feels right. Being at Gram’s feels like coming home. It’s the best feeling in the world and tomorrow, we’re going to have an amazing adventure.

**

The smell of coffee wakes me and I roll out of bed and yawn. I glance at the alarm clock blinking on the bedside table. 5:34am. Much too early for me to be awake. More importantly, why is Gram awake? She’s always been an early riser, but for her, that means 7:00. Not two hours before that.

I wonder if she had a bad dream. Maybe she just wanted to get an early start. She didn’t mention it, so I didn’t bother to ask what time she wanted to leave. We’re both kind of casual when it comes to taking trips, so neither one of us ever stresses about leaving “on time.”

I’m awake, so I might as well stay up. Plus, if Grandma is up, she might want help loading the car. We’ll probably take her SUV up to the woods, then hike the rest of the way to the cabin. Oh yeah, my ol’ Grams isn’t afraid of a good, old-fashioned hike. Not much scares her. It’s one of the things I love about her.

I slowly open the bedroom door and pad down the hallway in my socks. Call if lazy, but I didn’t want to unpack my PJs last night. I’m still in my clothes from the day before: jeans and a tee, complete with my car keys still in my pocket. My hip is killing from where they were pressed against me all night. I shake my head at my own stupidity. I was so tired that I literally just crashed.

Maybe I need this vacation more than I thought.

I know Gram’s going to have a fit when she sees me, but I try not to worry as I quietly make my way down the stairs, careful to dodge the squeaky ones. I lived here far too long to be caught off guard by something as mundane as a squeaky stair. I finished making my way downstairs and round the corner into the living room. The lights are still off in the living room, the there’s a glow coming from the kitchen.

And that smell.

Coffee.

I take a nice, long whiff. Okay, maybe being awake early isn’t such a bad thing. Not when there’s coffee to be had. I take a few steps forward, but then I stop. There’s something strange.

Voices.

I hear voices.

Who could possibly be over at this time of day? It’s much too early for visitors, yet I hear Gram’s voice quietly murmuring in the kitchen. As I approach, something holds me back.

I should burst in and demand to know who thought it was okay to bother a little old lady in the wee hours, but I don’t. I couldn’t say why, but there’s a growing feeling of dread in my stomach as I pause in the living room.

Something is wrong.

Instead of barging into the kitchen, I quietly walk over to the door and hesitate, waiting to hear what they’re saying. I wonder if I should run back upstairs and get my cell phone. Maybe I should call the cops. That might be a bit extreme, though. Maybe a neighbor just needed to borrow a cup of sugar or something…

At 5:00 in the morning…

“There’s no money,” Gram insists. Her voice sounds pained and weak. What the fuck?
No one
makes my Gram sound like that. “I haven’t gotten any here. You, of all people, should know I don’t keep cash on hand.”

That’s true, I think to myself as she talks. Gram only keeps a small amount of cash on hand to pay her bills. She owns her house outright and invests most of the money she makes from her real estate properties. She doesn’t believe in having a jar of pennies hanging around. She’s very modern with her finances.

But who wants money from her?

A robber?

A friend?

A-

“You know that’s not what I want,
Grandmother
,” the voice sneers, and I choke back a gasp. I know that voice.

I could never forget that voice.

My blood turns to ice as I freeze, waves of fear racing over my body as I realize who is standing in my grandmother’s kitchen, just feet from me.

I haven’t seen my older brother in years, but I’ll never forget his parting words to me at our parents’ funeral.

I’ll take everything
.

I didn’t know what it meant at the time. Not really. I was too young, too heartbroken to realize that he literally was going to take everything: and he did. He managed to become the trustee of the estate and I never saw a dime. Not that I wanted anything. I didn’t want a thing and Gram ensured all of my needs were met. She worked her ass off to care for me and she never complained.

Jeffrey took everything my parents owned and ran off, and I haven’t seen him since.

I haven’t missed him once.

As a college student, I didn’t realize how good it was that he was away, that he was gone. I didn’t realize that it was great while it lasted, but that it would be a temporary reprieve. I didn’t realize that one day, my dear brother would come back.

And that he would want to take even more from me.

Jeffrey and I have never been close, we’ve never been friends, we’ve never gotten along. Why is he at Gram’s this early? Why is he asking her for money? What could he possibly need? Or want?

He’s a few years older than me, so I barely even knew him when we were kids. He was always busy as a teenager, always caught up in his own world, and as soon as he was old enough, he left our family home to go do what he wanted. To fulfill his destiny, he said. 

Jeffrey lives with other people who are…like him. I’m not supposed to know that he’s only my half-brother, but it’s amazing how much you can learn about your family just by listening. Adults don’t watch what they say nearly as much as they should, and by the time I was 12, I’d figured out that Jeffrey was very, very different than me.

Too different.

“No,” Grandmother coughs three times, and I bite my lip. Three coughs. Her secret signal for
get the hell out of here.
I always thought she was paranoid and a bit weird with her little signals and secret codes, but now I wonder if she knows something I don’t.

She has to be afraid for her life right now and I know for damn sure she doesn’t keep a gun hidden in the kitchen. She leaves all her guns at the cabin and now, for the life of me, I’m wondering why.

She coughs once more and I bite my lip. Fear overtakes me, but I have to act. I have to do something. Anything. I have to get him away from her because if Jeffrey is here, it can only mean one thing: trouble.

I can’t leave her alone with Jeffrey, not now.

He obviously doesn’t know I’m here. I parked down the road, after all. There’s nothing that would let him know about my presence. My car keys are in my pocket. I could easily sneak out the front door and vanish into the morning. He’d never even know there was a witness.

But something bad is about to happen and I’m not sure what to do.

Why is he here giving Gram trouble?

What does he need money for?

“Listen,” Jeffrey says, and I hear him slinking around the kitchen. He can be absolutely silent when he wants to be, and he’s super fucking loud the rest of the time. Right now I wish he was on loud mode because I can’t tell exactly where he is in the room.