Chapter 2-2
961 Words
KATHERINE WATCHED FROM the bedroom door while the little darlings slept. Charlotte looked so much like her mother, God rest her loving soul. And Simon was the spitting image of Jack at that age.
She missed having the kids at home. Jack needed so much from her after Monica died—so much love and support—and it was good to feel useful. Good to cook meals for the family. Life was lonely, without her grandkids running around the house, but Jack was right. She had faith in her son, in his new family. Of course they should have a home of their own, this beautiful house in a good school district. The children would surely thrive here.
Surely...
And yet, something about this house gave her chills. What it must cost to heat such a place! Katherine usually felt warm wherever she went, but not in this house.
The kids seemed comfortable, curled together like kittens under a cartoon comforter. But Katherine couldn’t for the life of her stop shivering. What time was it? Perhaps the boys had taken her motherly advice and gone out for a bite to eat after the conference.
Parents needed a bit of time to themselves. Did a relationship good. Perhaps if she’d acknowledged the importance of time together a little earlier, her husband wouldn’t have taken off with a geriatric biker brigade at the ripe age of sixty-two. He needed excitement, he said. The kind of excitement only the open road could provide.
A shiver ran down her spine, and she grasped her arms, hugging herself tightly. When young Charlotte began to stir, Katherine realized her teeth were chattering loudly enough that she might wake these children if she didn’t move off. She’d have to get a nice cup of tea inside her.
As soon as she’d descended the staircase, she grabbed the luxurious throw from the back of the couch. If there’s one thing she could say about Ren, he had wonderful taste. Well, he had fallen for her son, after all! That proved his good taste.
She chuckled to herself as she wrapped the blanket around her shoulders. Felt soft as fur. Instantly, she felt warmer.
Even so, she clicked on the kettle and got a mug down from the cupboard. Took a moment to remember where the boys kept their tea. Most of the varieties they had in stock were terribly fancy, in silver canisters from that tea store Ren loved so much. She had to do a bit of digging to find a plain old bag of Orange Pekoe.
When the water boiled, she filled her mug, leaving room for milk. Her hands were still so dreadfully cold she wrapped them around large cup. Her palms blazed. Fingers, too. She didn’t care. Burning was better than freezing. Goodness, had the boys not paid their heating bill? Had the furnace shut off of its own volition? No, she could hear it humming. There was hot air rushing from the vents.
Why was this house so brutally cold?
Once she’d added milk, she took her tea to the television nook and turned on the set. She kept it quiet, so it wouldn’t wake the kids. Nothing much on that interested her, but she settled on a police drama with an inordinate number of attractive officers.
With Ren’s fancy throw wrapped around her shoulders and a hot cup of tea in hand, she was just starting to feel somewhat warm.
It was at that moment when someone knocked at the door.
The knock startled her enough that she jumped, spilling tea over the sides of her mug and onto Ren’s creamy white throw.
“Shoot!” she hissed. Surely he’d notice.
The knock came again, and Katherine was about to call out, “Who is it?” when she thought best not. Might wake the children.
She leaned forward to place her mug on the coffee table, and then twisted around on the couch to look at the door. What on earth was the matter with her, fixating like this? It was probably just the boys home from their teacher conference. They must have forgotten their keys.
Except she remembered seeing Jack’s house key on the ring, with the key to his car. And Ren had scooped up his keys off the table by the door, and put them in his pocket.
Perhaps they’d been mugged on their way home from the conference. Perhaps that’s what had kept them out so long. They would have had to file a police report. Goodness gracious, she hoped that wasn’t the case.
The knock came again, and she fully expected to hear her son’s voice saying, “It’s us, Mom. Open up.”
But was the door even locked? She knew she hadn’t secured it herself. And she didn’t recall hearing a key in the door as the boys were leaving.
Tugging Ren’s tea-stained luxury throw tighter around her shoulders, Katherine rose from the couch. Her spine had never felt so straight and, despite the hot tea in her system, she felt frozen once more, right down to the bone.
One force seemed to push against her as she stared at the door.
Another force seemed to be pulling her closer.
She moved across the floor, though she didn’t feel as though she were walking. She coasted along the hardwood, getting colder the closer she came to the front entrance.
Her voice sounded so tiny when she asked, “Who’s there?”
No answer.
A knock, again.
She jumped back.
“Listen here, now, I’m not going to open this door unless you tell me who you are.”
But even as she said the words, she saw her arm extending. Her hand grasped the knob. This wasn’t what she wanted. She didn’t intend to do it. But she watched her hand, unable to stop it as it turned the doorknob, turned and pulled.
A cold blast of air knocked her to the floor.
The door blew open.
The unknown rushed in.
- Writer
