Growing Grounds

Chapter 10: Crows Come Calling

Tammy sat at the table for thirty minutes contemplating the strange dream, or whatever it was. She reasoned that she had been in the nursery upstairs to place the plastic and she had been in the room downstairs because the blood splatters still decorated the outside of the window.

However, she could not connect those things with the time reversal. Maybe she had stayed in the bed when Matt had left; maybe he had put the plastic in the nursery; maybe she had dreamed the crow attack. Nothing of her reasoning made any sense, though. She could reconcile none of her theories with her reality.

Best to forget it unless something comes of it, which nothing will come of it. It can’t. I’ll be in Daisy Lawn with Cindy if I’m not careful.

Matt came through the front door thirty minutes after Tammy sat at the table and he carried a large paper bag. From the smells drifting out of that paper bag, Tammy knew breakfast was going to be delicious. She was famished.

“I’m baaack! I come bearing gifts of food. Sustenance for you and the baby, Ma’am.” Matt plopped the bag on the table in front of Tammy. The heat wafted off it—it had been made fresh to order and Matt had made it home before the food began to chill.

“Mmm. Smells like a huge Denver omelet and hash browns with a side order of homemade biscuits and gravy.” She opened the bag, stuck her face close, and inhaled deeply.

Matt grabbed plates and utensils. “It is. It is. Frosty was the cook this morning, so you know the servings are enormous. He thinks everyone has an appetite like his.”

“I do today. I feel like I haven’t eaten in a week.” And that was the truth. Her stomach rumbled loudly and they both laughed.

“Then you should eat until you’re full, my pregnant wife!” Matt made the announcement with an overhead flourish of his fork.

“I should probably be eating a little healthier now that I’m preggers.” Tammy looked up at Matt after shoveling another forkful of biscuits and gravy into her mouth.

“Maybe a little, but this isn’t that bad if you really think about it.”

Tammy laughed and rolled her eyes. “No, I’m sure it isn’t. Not if you’re a teenage all-star athlete, anyway.”

Matt giggled and continued to eat until he was three-quarters finished, and then he asked Tammy, “Did you move the chair while I was gone?”

Confused, she shook her head at him. “What chair?”

“The chair, Tammy. The chair that…” he made a twirling motion with his hand, not making eye contact. “…you know. The one you wanted to get rid of,” he finished awkwardly.

Her heart lurched up into her throat. “No, I didn’t touch the chair. Why would you think I moved it?” Blood pumped loudly behind her eardrums, making everything sound muffled, as if she had cotton in her ears.

“Because it’s been moved. I’m sure it has been. It was about three feet from where I had it.” Matt still made no effort to look her in the eye.

“I’ve been sitting right here. I think it’s wise to be shed of that thing, though. It’s not…it’s not normal and you know it.” She hoped he would agree and take it to the dump today.

Scoffing, he said, “How is a chair abnormal or normal? It’s just a chair, baby. Come on.” He pushed the remainder of his omelet around on the plate.

He’s just avoiding looking at me. He’s afraid he’ll see something he can’t unsee in my eyes—like how crazy I really am. My sister, my mother, and now me. That’s what he is thinking.

You don’t know what he’s thinking. You’re not a mind reader.

No, she certainly was not a mind reader, but she still knew what he was thinking. “Matt, I know what you think and I understand. I don’t want to talk about it anymore, either, but you have to trust me when I say we need to say goodbye to that chair. If you don’t believe what happened to me, and you don’t trust me—”

“No, let’s not get into this right now, all right?” Matt pushed away from the table and took his plate to the sink. “It’s not that I don’t believe you or trust you. I just don’t know how I feel about that chair right now and I don’t want to go blaming something like this on a chunk of wood. It’s an inanimate object. That’s that for now. Okay?”

His tone implied that he harbored a bit of doubt. “Why would you have any doubt about that ‘chunk of wood’ as you call it? What happened to you? Did the chair move? Did you see something?”

“No, nothing like that.” Moving to the other side of the kitchen, Matt seemed more agitated than the situation called for. “It’s just something I overheard at school.”

“About the chair?” Tammy’s pulse quickened more.

“Yeah, about the chair and its previous owner. Have you heard any of the stories about Mrs. Todd?”

“No, I barely knew her name. I only knew that her son lived with her and took care of her. What stories?”

“The backwoodsy, small town variety, I suppose. There may be absolutely nothing to them.” He ran his hands through his hair and huffed.

“But, then again, maybe there is something to them. Tell me what you heard, Matt.” Tiny beads of sweat popped out on her forehead and upper lip.

Matt walked to his chair again. “All right. But the stories aren’t all I need to tell you, hon.” Matt proceeded to haltingly retell the stories he had heard about Mrs. Todd and her chair.

Tammy knew she paled at least three times during Matt’s monologue, she felt her blood drain right down to the soles of her feet. “I knew there was something seriously wrong with that thing, Matt. I want you to take it to the dump. Like today; right now.”

“I will. I promise I’ll get rid of it. I don’t want you upset like this over a chair, especially not now and not in your condition.” Seemingly relieved, Matt leaned forward and put his elbows on the table. “I love you, you know that, right?”

“Yes, I do. And I love you, too.” She leaned forward and said, “Now, what was the other thing you needed to tell me?”

“I just wanted to tell you the stories I’d heard.” Matt became fidgety again.

“Uh-uh. Nope. Give. What was it?” She’d seen Matt try to get out of things before that he thought might upset her, or get him into trouble. He was by no means a good liar. That was part of the reason she had agreed to marry him. Being good at lying made for a horrible spouse.

“Why not? Might as well clear my conscience and be done with it.” Matt told her how he had become the owner of the chair. He also told her about the talk he had with the late Mrs. Todd’s son.

Tammy sat through the story slack-jawed and wide-eyed. Matt had lied to her about how he acquired that vile chair. “Matt, I don’t even know how I feel about that. You lied to me. And you did it on purpose!”

“I’m so sorry, Tammy. Please, I admitted my wrong, please, don’t be mad. I’ll never lie to you again.” He pleaded to her with his eyes.

He seemed genuinely sorry that he had lied, but Tammy thought it was more likely that he was afraid she would eventually find out the truth and that’s what prompted his confession.

Tammy had wanted to talk to Matt about the morning’s episode and had decided against it because she could not be sure if any of it was real, part of it was real, or none of it was real. Was she lying to him? Lying by omission? Now she didn’t want to talk to him at all. At least not until she had time to evaluate her feelings. He had purposefully lied to her and that lie had led to her kidnapping and assault by a chair—an impossible thing to happen. Impossible things don’t care about labels such as impossible, they happen anyway and sometimes they happen in spite of the label of impossible.

“I did feel something.” Matt’s voice was barely above a whisper.

“What?”

“You asked if something had happened. I felt something the first day we had the chair in the living room.” He looked toward the living room. “I felt the chair change. At first, when I touched it, it felt like an ordinary piece of wooden furniture. A split-second later, there was warm, living flesh under my hand. When I looked at it, it was just wood again.” He glanced toward the living room again. “I thought it was nothing. You know, maybe my wiring was crossed for a second and I thought I felt flesh. Deep down, I knew better. I told you I didn’t feel anything but wood.”

“And then you play it off like I’m crazy when that episode happened? Wow. Matthew Milner, I cannot talk to you right now.” Tammy stood and headed for the front door, her destination unknown. She just had to be outside, away from Matt, so she could think more clearly.

The brisk November air chilled her as she walked toward the woods. She had not left the house with the intention of going into the woods, but that is where she ended up ten minutes later. A mist floated a few inches above the ground. The tangy smell of dead and dying leaves stung her sinuses. She stopped in a spot where the trail seemed to end and the going got a bit rougher. No need to risk falling.

Turning to head back home, almost not mad at Matt anymore, Tammy rubbed her tummy. There was a noticeable baby bump there. Impossible as that was, it was there. Lifting her shirt, she inspected her belly. She was definitely showing her pregnancy. Her tummy was not flat at all now.

A crow cawed in the distance and several answered. They sounded much closer. The earlier episode with the crows returned to her. Tammy set out at a run toward the presumed safety of the house and Matt. Matt was there now, he would protect her—if he could.

Thighs burning, gasping, vision swimming, ears ringing, Tammy bolted into the house, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the windows in the foyer. She shoved the curtains aside and watched as the murder of crows landed on the grass of the front lawn. It seemed they were not so keen on battering the oak door.