Behind Closed Doors

Chapter 1-1

Elizabeth Marshall drove her red Honda Civic into the little town of Springfield, Ohio. The simple name was one of the things that attracted her. It wasn’t complicated, and that was exactly what she needed in her life right now: no complications.

She wanted a fresh start, far away from all the memories of the city she’d left behind. Away from the person everyone thought she was. A person she’d really never been, before or after. At the age of twenty-seven, she would be reborn. Reborn into someone she could be proud of again. Someone who didn’t pretend to be something she wasn’t. Someone her parents could be proud of.

Springfield was big enough to have all the basic necessities without any of the flashy extras you’d find in larger cities. It was just over an hour away from the place she’d called home for the last ten years. Far enough away that she didn’t think anyone here would recognize her, but near enough that she could visit her parents’ graves whenever she wanted. In some ways she was glad they couldn’t see her now. Yes, she missed them, but they’d also missed the mess her life had become. She felt moisture pool in her eyes as she thought of them, and knew that if she didn’t redirect her thoughts soon she’d be a bawling mess by the time she arrived at her destination.

Her destination. As she wove through the side streets, she focused on her surroundings. Springfield felt like a completely different world. No longer would she have to attend cocktail parties or ladies’ teas. Her hair and makeup didn’t have to be perfect before going outside to retrieve the morning paper. Here she could just be herself.

In her search for the perfect place to start this new chapter in her life, she’d stumbled upon an old home that had been turned into apartments. When she’d received the e-mail back from Mrs. Weaver, her new landlady, she knew this was the place for her. The three-story building had been around for over one hundred years, but it looked to be in good repair. She loved old buildings. It was one of the few things she’d enjoyed about where she’d called home for the past five years. In her new home, Mrs. Weaver occupied the bottom level, and Elizabeth would be on the second floor. The third floor had an occupant as well, although she hadn’t thought to ask for details.

She felt good about having her own space. I need my independence, she reminded herself.

I need my independenceEven with that mantra, it was hard to block out what had led her to this small town surrounded by corn and soybean fields, but there was a new life waiting for her in Springfield, she just knew it.

With a few more turns, she found the road she was looking for and followed it, as the houses once again became farther and farther apart. There was a line of trees to her right and a soybean field on her left when a mailbox came into view. Sitting back off the road, the large Victorian house was tucked between two soybean fields and surrounded by a small grove of trees.

As she drove up the long gravel driveway, she noticed someone looking out the first-story window.

“You can do this,” she said to herself, figuring if she said it enough she could make it true.

Pulling her loose button-down shirt tighter around her, she got out of the car and went to the trunk. There wasn’t much to retrieve, just two bags. That was all her life consisted of now. All she had chosen to bring with her. The rest of her old life was either in storage or had been donated to Goodwill. She didn’t need reminders. She had enough of those all on her own.

A woman with salt-and-pepper hair met her at the door and opened it wide. She looked to be in her mid to late sixties, old enough to be Elizabeth’s mother if she were still alive.

“Hello, my dear. You must be Elizabeth,” she said, reaching out to take one of her bags.

“It’s okay, I’ve got it. They’re not that heavy.” You could also use the exercise, her inner voice chastised.

You could also use the exerciseThe woman waved her concerns away and took the bag. “Nonsense. I may be old, but I’m not completely useless. Not yet anyway.” Extending her hand, she introduced herself. “I’m Janice Weaver, but you can call me Jan. Everybody does.”

Taking the offered hand, Elizabeth said, “It’s nice to meet you.”

She took a quick survey of her surroundings, noting that the pictures online hadn’t done the place justice, and followed Jan into a foyer decorated in cream and soft blue. The ceiling soared high above her, creating an open and inviting space. She loved it already, and she wasn’t even in her apartment yet.

“Over there is my apartment should you ever need anything,” Jan said, pointing to a door just to the right. Elizabeth nodded. “And you’re up here.” She continued up the stairs as Elizabeth followed, eager to see her new place.

At the top of the stairs were two more doors: one to the right and one to the left. Jan stopped at the door on the right and retrieved a single key from her pocket.

As Jan put the key into the door, curiosity got the better Elizabeth. Looking over her shoulder she asked, “What is the other door for?”

Jan turned slightly to see what she was talking about. “That’s the staircase leading to the third-floor apartment.”

Then, as if the brief conversation hadn’t occurred, Jan opened the door, motioning for Elizabeth to go inside.

Elizabeth looked around, very pleased. While there was a certain modern flair to the place, it was like stepping back in time. The architecture was beautiful, with a vast wooden arch separating her living room from her new kitchen.

“Do you like it?” Jan asked from behind her.

She’d been so caught up she hadn’t even heard Jan approach. That hadn’t happened in a long time. She was usually overly aware of her surroundings. It just reaffirmed her decision. “I love it.”

Jan smiled and Elizabeth relaxed a little, but old habits were hard to break. While it might be true the danger was gone, one didn’t just forget being afraid.

An hour later, Elizabeth stepped back to admire the small air mattress she’d just blown up in the middle of her new bedroom. It was only big enough for one person, but it would do until she could get a bed delivered. She needed to pick up some sheets and blankets. Sleeping directly on the vinyl didn’t hold great appeal. Not even for one night.

Next she went to the kitchen. It was a nice size and had everything she needed, including a dishwasher, and there were plenty of cabinets lining the walls, waiting to be filled with food and dishes, both of which she currently lacked.

There’s no time like the present.

There’s no time like the present.Jan had given her directions to the nearest market, so she grabbed her purse and started to leave, but just as she was about to descend the stairs, she heard an angry male voice say, “I don’t care what you have to do, Terry, just get it done.” Every word was punctuated by heavy footfalls coming up the stairs, closer to her apartment.

Elizabeth’s breathing quickened as her chest tightened, and she automatically huddled in on herself. The man’s voice changed in her mind. It wasn’t some stranger anymore; it was Jared, her husband.

She leaned her forehead against the wall next to the door, trying to push the memories away. He’s not here. He’s not here, she kept repeating to herself.

He’s not here. He’s hereJust as she was starting to calm, the door only a few feet away was wrenched opened and then slammed shut. It didn’t take much to put together that the man must be her new neighbor or one of them at least. She hadn’t thought to question Jan about the third-floor residents and felt stupid for not asking more questions.

It was too late now. She was here, and she wasn’t going to let something like a disagreeable man chase her out of her new home. She would deal with her neighbor even if he didn’t seem like a nice man. Maybe she could avoid him altogether. It wasn’t as if they really had to cross paths, right? She’d learn his schedule and then avoid him. That would work.

With renewed determination, she opened her door and ran down the stairs and out to her car, her speed of flight having nothing to do with the man upstairs. At least, that’s what she kept telling herself.

* * *

This day had to be one of the worst of Christopher Daniels’ life. His assistant had just up and quit without notice, and then his foreman, Terry, had failed to order enough materials to finish the interior drywall for the house they were in the process of building. On top of all that, he’d managed to run over a nail somewhere and had to change a flat halfway home.

It was two o’clock, and he had more work than he wanted to contemplate waiting on his desk for him, but for just a few minutes he was going to try and not think about it. Yeah, right, he thought as he pulled out the lunchmeat, cheese, and mayo from his refrigerator. He took the bread out of the cabinet, hurriedly made a sandwich, and took a huge bite.

Yeah, rightLeaning back against the counter, he forced his mind to think of something else, anything else but work, and settled on the new neighbor Jan had told him about. She’d said the woman seemed nice enough and had moved down from Columbus, but that was all Jan knew. He really wished she had gotten more information so he could have had his brother Paul run a background check or something. But that wasn’t Jan Weaver. She was a great woman, just too trusting.

Chris had known Jan and her husband, Charles, since he was a kid. They’d lived across the street from his parents until they’d bought this house fifteen years ago. Fate had brought them together again when Chris’ short-lived marriage had come to an end right around the same time Charles’ health had taken a turn for the worse. In exchange for decreased rent, Chris helped out with minor repairs when needed. Living there was beneficial for both of them.

He hadn’t had a downstairs neighbor for three months, and it was going to take some getting used to. No more running out in just my boxers, he thought, laughing to himself.

No more running out in just my boxersIt had happened years ago, but Jan never let him forget it. He’d been living there only a few months when, on his way in, he’d dropped some papers. Later that night he was getting ready to climb into bed with his usual mound of paperwork, when he’d realized something was missing. Instead of putting his clothes back on, he decided to duck out into the hallway and check.

Unfortunately, the papers were just out of reach and as he stretched to pick them up, he heard his door click shut, locking him out of his apartment. He’d had to run down the stairs in nothing but his boxers to retrieve the spare key from Jan. It was embarrassing enough, but at least there hadn’t been anyone else living there at the time to add to his humiliation.