House at the End of the Street Page 5

  Elissa blinked, for a minute not registering what she was seeing. The swing set was still out back, the rusted slide sitting at a strange angle. “I’m sorry,” she blurted out. “I guess a divorce is nothing compared to what you’ve been through. It’s just…I haven’t talked to anyone about this before.”

  Ryan smiled, resting his hand on her back. “I’m glad you told me,” he said. She thought he was going to say more, but instead he stood, heading downstairs. She followed, feeling like that might be her cue to go. She felt foolish for saying it, even if Ryan had assured her it was all right. It was strange though, how he’d stood so suddenly. Why had he done that? It was as if some internal alarm had gone off, and he’d realized he’d had an appointment somewhere else.

  Downstairs, the house was dark. Ryan went into the kitchen, fiddling with a few of the groceries on the counter as if she weren’t there. She suddenly felt so self-conscious, not sure whether she should stay or go. She grabbed her sweatshirt from the sofa and pointed to the stereo. “Enjoy the CD,” she said, taking a few tentative steps toward the door. Ryan barely turned to say good-bye. “See you tomorrow.”

  When she finally left, Ryan went to the door. He hovered there, waiting on the porch, watching as she took off across the lawn. “See you tomorrow,” he called after her. She turned back, and he waved, his face feeling stiff and awkward. He’d never been good at pretending.

  He glanced at the clock on the wall. As soon as she was inside her house, he moved quickly, pulling a can of minestrone soup from the counter and popping it open. He dumped its contents in a bowl and slid it in the microwave, watching it spin several times before it was done heating. He tested it with his finger, making sure it wasn’t too hot. Then he assembled it on a tray with a few cookies. She would like this, he knew she would. Chocolate chip were always her favorite.

  He went to the edge of the kitchen, opening the basement door. He started down the long flight, keeping careful balance of the tray, not wanting to spill even a drop. When he got downstairs, he kicked back a wide throw rug, revealing a trapdoor. He set the tray down as he opened it, then he started down the metal ladder, into the secret room.

  He’d built it himself, reading carpentry manuals for weeks before he started. He’d bought the lumber and dug out the earth, making sure it was deep enough that no one would hear her scream anymore. He walked to the metal door he’d purchased years before, two inches thick. Her shadow passed over the peephole. He reached up, pulling the key down from the top of the doorjamb.

  Ryan took a deep breath, preparing himself as he always did. He kept the tray balanced in his left hand, away from the door, so she wouldn’t knock into it. As he turned the knob he checked the peephole again. Her shadow had disappeared.

  He opened it and her high-pitched wail filled the air. She was hovering in the corner, next to the small table he’d bolted to the floor. It had a baby monitor and a puzzle for her to play with when she got bored. She turned suddenly, darting toward him, her blond hair falling in her face. She reached for him, trying to claw at his eyes, and he tried his best to set the tray down as he pushed her away.

  He restrained her, wrapping her in a bear hug. “Easy, Carrie Anne. Easy,” he whispered. She turned her head, biting into his forearm so hard that she drew blood. He winced, trying not to let go. He couldn’t let her do this. He wouldn’t let her hurt them anymore. He took a few steps back, pressing himself into the mud wall to stabilize them. Then he slowly bent his knees, tightening his grip as they sat on the floor.

  His voice was trembling when he finally spoke. He hated her for this—for what she’d done to his life. She would always be the burden on him, always, until he died. “Why do you do this, Carrie Anne?” he asked. “Don’t I take care of you? Don’t I?”

  When they were both sitting, he reached for the small syringe in his back pocket. He’d been buying the sedatives online for years, ordering them from a website that sent them from somewhere in Mexico. He plunged the needle into her arm and pushed down until all the medicine was injected. It took only a few moments for her body to relax. Her shoulders slumped forward, her head lolling to one side. He brushed the hair away from her face, looking into her bright blue eyes—the same ones he’d known since he was a child.

  “We have a new neighbor. And I like her, Carrie Anne. Elissa and her mom moved into the Reed house, and you are going to leave them alone. Do you understand me?” He squeezed her tighter as he spoke, unable to control the anger in his voice. She had done this to him—it was her fault. Because of her, everything had changed.

  Carrie Anne’s head fell forward, and she whispered something under her breath that sounded like a yes. He helped her into her bed, leaving the dinner on the small table, right beside the monitor. Then he double-checked the room, making sure everything was in its proper place. There was a wooden porch chair settled in another corner, along with a lamp with a single exposed light bulb. He felt for the restraint around her ankle. It was still there. The leather cuff was attached to a wire string, the end of it firmly anchored to the bottom of the bed. When he was certain everything was as it should be, he closed the door behind him and went to turn the dead bolt.

  His heart was still beating fast from the struggle. He noticed soup spattered along the floor, which must’ve spilled when she’d initially hit him. He wiped up the stray vegetables and noodles with a rag he had in his back pocket, making sure he still had the empty syringe. Then he put the key back above the door, tucking it carefully in place, and started up the ladder. He’d been so distracted by the spill, he didn’t realize that he never turned the lock. It was still turned to the right, the knob loose, just waiting for Carrie Anne to open it.

  “You were in his house?” Jillian held on to her backpack straps so tightly her knuckles turned white. As they strode toward the barn, Elissa listened to the sounds of Jake’s bass rise up over the wind. This would be the hardest part—she knew it. Explaining to people that Ryan Jacobsen wasn’t the freak they thought he was. Shattering this image that had been building for years.

  “I think he’s suffering from PTSD,” Elissa explained. Post-traumatic—”

  “I know what it is. I watch Dr. Oz,” Jillian said. She straightened her red hair, which fell down past her shoulders. “I just can’t believe you went over there. You’re lucky he didn’t turn you into a lampshade.”

  “Oh, stop,” Elissa said, giving Jillian a gentle nudge. She adjusted her guitar on her back. “Everyone has this idea of him, and it’s just…it’s wrong. He’s been isolated, and it seems like he has low self-esteem, but I think he wants to start opening up to people. I mean, he gave me a ride, didn’t he? He must be lonely in that house—he must.”

  “Low self-esteem,” Jillian muttered. “Those are the ones who do all the weird stuff. I don’t think he wants help—he wants in your pants.”

  Elissa turned, narrowing her eyes at her friend. Why did everyone have to be so crude? This from the girl who had dated Tyler Reynolds—the girl actually at one point considered him her boyfriend. Ryan Jacobsen seemed like a saint compared to that guy. Sure, he didn’t fit into the picture of what other Woodshire residents imagined themselves to be. But did that mean he was a bad person?

  Jillian softened. She glanced back at the old barn, listening to the music for a moment. “Do you really like Ryan? Or are you just trying to piss off your mom?”

  At that, Elissa finally laughed. Jillian had only been over once since they’d met, but apparently Elissa and Sarah’s tense relationship was easy to read. Maybe it was the awkward one-word answers Elissa gave whenever her mother asked a question, even if it was just: Do we need more milk? “Maybe I was trying to piss her off at first,” Elissa said. “But I don’t know. He’s hard not to like.”

  Jillian’s expression changed. She offered Elissa a half smile. “Well, if you like him, I’ll at least try to like him. No promises though.” Then the two of them went into the old barn, where Jake and Robbie were waiting, ready to w
elcome Elissa into the band.

  “You rocked it!” Robbie shouted out of the Jeep’s rear window, calling to Elissa as she started up her front steps. She waved as Jillian, Jake, and Robbie pulled away, leaving her alone for a moment on her porch. The afternoon had gone surprisingly well. When she’d listened to Jake and Robbie’s music she’d known they were good—but she hadn’t realized how good. They played together for hours, the rhythms blending together so naturally. Robbie riffed on some original melodies she’d written, and Jake accompanied on the bass. She’d always used her laptop, recording and rerecording over tracks, then playing along with them to create original songs. But now she had to admit it—a real, live band was so much better.

  She pushed inside the foyer, setting her guitar against the wall. Immediately she knew something wasn’t right. It was the light—her mom had dimmed the track bulbs down lower, so the room was filled with a soft, rosy glow. She went into the dining room, where Sarah was setting the table. She’d changed out of her work scrubs and was wearing a casual blue dress and sandals.

  “Mom…?” Elissa asked. “What’s going on? What happened to mac and cheese on the couch?”

  Sarah picked up her glass of red wine and took a sip, her eyes meeting Elissa’s. “I thought it would be nice to get to know each other.”

  Get to know who? Elissa thought. Then the doorbell rang. Elissa spun around, noticing Ryan through the front window. She invited Ryan to dinner?

  Elissa darted to the door, getting there before Sarah could. “I’m so sorry,” she muttered under her breath. “You don’t have to—”

  “It’s okay,” Ryan said, barely looking at her. “I wanted to come.” He clasped a box of chocolate chip cookies in his hands. They were in a plastic container, and it looked like a few were missing, but still…he had tried.

  Elissa spun around, narrowing her eyes at her mother. She’d never been so furious. What was this? Some sort of test? Since when did Sarah care whom she hung out with? Where had she been in Chicago, when Elissa and her friends hid in an abandoned bowling alley, doing whatever they felt like? Who was she to suddenly care?

  “Come sit down, Ryan,” Sarah said, taking another large swig of her wine. She pulled out a chair and gestured for him to settle in. Elissa eyed the table, where a large casserole dish sat. It looked like Sarah had dumped French onion soup and corn chips together and stuck it in the oven. Cooking had never been her strong suit.

  Before Elissa could say anything else, Ryan had taken his seat, gesturing for her to join him. She watched Sarah fiddle with the casserole dish, plopping spoonfuls of unidentifiable food down on their plates. “Looks good,” Ryan lied. He stuck a forkful in his mouth and swallowed.

  In any other situation, Elissa would’ve laughed, but she was too angry at her mother right now. She had gone over to Ryan’s house and asked him to come to dinner…to get to know him better? Since when did she care to get to know any of Elissa’s friends? “So now that he’s here,” Elissa started, an edge in her voice, “do you want to pepper him with questions? Give him the third degree? What?”

  Sarah sat back, glaring at her. “I didn’t invite Ryan over to give him the third degree,” she said. “He’s our neighbor. And he’s been giving you rides, and you said you were over there yesterday. I just thought I should meet him, that’s all.”

  Elissa glanced sideways at Ryan, but he didn’t say anything. “Go on,” she said, watching her mother. “You know you want to ask him about his parents, his house, his aunt.”

  “She can,” Ryan said slowly. He looked up. “What do you want to know? I lived with my aunt Iris, but she had a stroke when I was eighteen. After she was hospitalized, I came back here. Back home.”

  Sarah let out a long breath, relaxing back into her seat. Elissa could see she was pleased—this was what she had wanted. Information. “How do you live?” Sarah asked. “Big house like that must have bills.”

  “Mom, I don’t believe you’re doing this,” Elissa spat out. “You’re being incredibly rude.” She moved to stand, but Ryan set his hand down on her arm. It was the first time they’d touched, with the exception of the few seconds she’d held his hand, leading him out of Carrie Anne’s bedroom.

  “It’s okay, really,” he said. His eyes met Sarah’s gaze. “My parents inherited the house and a little money. When they died, I got it all. It’s not a lot, but it’s enough. I go part-time to Bridgeport Community. It’s not the greatest school in the world, but I’m getting my credits together to apply for premed at a university. I want be a psychiatrist.”

  For the first time since Ryan walked in, Sarah smiled. Apparently that answer pleased her. “That’s very cool,” she said.

  “My mom went to a psychiatrist for a long time after she broke up with my dad.” Elissa couldn’t help herself. She felt the words coming out of her mouth before she could stop them. She just wanted to level the playing field. It wasn’t fair for Sarah to sit there, grilling Ryan about his family, his income, his life goals, and not reveal anything about herself in return.

  Sarah stared at her, as if she couldn’t believe Elissa had just spoken those words out loud. The table fell into an uncomfortable silence. They pushed the food around their plates, and Sarah occasionally asked another question—about Ryan’s schooling, or how he liked living in Woodshire. (He didn’t.) When it was clear they weren’t going to eat any more of the weird, undercooked casserole, Sarah cleared some of the plates.

  As soon as she disappeared into the kitchen, Ryan leaned over, his dark eyes meeting Elissa’s. “It’s okay—I’m grateful to be here, really. Your mom is the first person to invite me over since it happened.”

  Their faces were just a few inches apart. Elissa softened, suddenly embarrassed for being such a bitch in front of him. He reached for her hand, covering it with his. They stayed like that, their fingers interlocking, until Sarah appeared in the doorway.

  Ryan pulled away first. Sarah set a store-bought pie on the table, along with the cookies Ryan had brought. She’d arranged them in a circle on her favorite flowered plate. Her eyes kept moving from Ryan to Elissa, then back to Ryan. Elissa could tell she had seen them holding hands.

  “I’m sorry,” she finally said. “I need to say this to both of you. Elissa is just getting started in a new school. I want to her to do well—she needs to. It’s a big part of the reason we moved here.”

  “Mom,” Elissa snapped, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks. “What is your point?”

  Sarah didn’t look at her. Instead she focused on Ryan, waiting until he looked up. “She’s only seventeen.”

  “I’m not a child,” Elissa interrupted. “This is ridiculous. What do you think is going on, anyway? He gave me a ride. I made him a CD—why are you suddenly interested in micromanaging my life?”

  “It isn’t ridiculous,” Sarah said, raising her voice. She didn’t take her eyes off Ryan. “He is twenty-one. He understands what I’m getting at. I’m asking that you respect this rule. I don’t want the two of you alone in your house or this house when I’m not here.”

  “You’re never here,” Elissa snapped. She could feel herself growing angrier. Who was Sarah to sit there, suddenly acting like the perfect parent? Who was she to pretend she hadn’t checked out for the last four years?

  “I’m here now.” Sarah held the wineglass so tightly, it looked like it might break in her hand. “Can I trust you, Ryan?”

  Ryan stared down at his hand, clearly uncomfortable. “Yes, you can. But I think I should go.”

  He stood, twisting his napkin in his hands. He grabbed two chocolate chip cookies before turning toward the door. “Where are you going?” Elissa asked.

  “You’re lucky you have a mother who cares about you,” he said. “Thank you for dinner, Miss Cassidy.”

  “You can stay,” Sarah offered. It was so halfhearted it made Elissa even angrier.

  Elissa stood up to follow him, but he didn’t stop for her. She wanted them to be alone again—without Sar
ah. Things were easier then.

  “Ryan—come back,” she tried. But the door fell shut behind him, leaving her and Sarah alone in silence.

  “I asked him to stay,” Sarah said quietly.

  “No,” Elissa spat back. She spun around, facing her mother. “You invited him over just so you could interrogate him and then throw him out.”

  Sarah stood, throwing her napkin down on the table. “Honey, I am trying to protect you.”

  “Now? After all these years? Now suddenly you want to be a parent?” Elissa clenched her fists together so hard they hurt. All those nights came back to her. All the times Sarah had checked out, when she’d been drinking and had fallen asleep on the couch. All the times she was out until 2 AM bartending, and Elissa would have to make her own dinner. When Elissa had gotten in trouble for cutting class, Sarah hadn’t even showed up at the principal’s office to get her—she’d been out at a baseball game with her boyfriend of the month. There had been a whole slew of them after Elissa’s dad left, as if Sarah had put an ad out for a replacement husband.

  Elissa took a deep breath, trying not to cry. It was too late for them to have a real relationship—she knew that now. Sarah hadn’t been there when it mattered. And no new lectures or rules could fix that. She stormed up the stairs, turning back over her shoulder one last time, knowing she shouldn’t say it. It would hurt Sarah too much. She didn’t mean to say it, but the words were already coming out of her mouth.

  “Just because you were some wasted slut in high school doesn’t mean I am.”

  She watched Sarah’s face change, the shock and hurt registering all at once. And with that Elissa ran into her room, slamming the door behind her.