The Obsession(3)

He was down there doing something special just for her. She wouldn’t complain (in her head) about chores for a whole month.

How long did it take to put a bike together? She should hurry back home so he didn’t know she’d followed him. But she really, really, really wanted to see it. Just a peek.

She eased back from the door, crept over to the burned-out cabin, and hunkered down behind the old chimney. It wouldn’t take him longhe was good with tools. He could have his own repair shop if he wanted, and only worked for the cable company out of Morgantown to provide security for his family.

He said so all the time.

She glanced up at the snap of lightningthe first pitchfork of itand the thunder that followed was more boom than mumble. She should’ve gone home, that was the truth, but she couldn’t go back now. He could come out anytime, and he’d catch her for sure.

There’d be no shiny red bike for her birthday if he caught her now.

If the storm broke, she’d just get wet, that’s all. It would cool her off.

She told herself he’d just be five more minutes, and when the minutes passed, he’d just be five more. And then she had to pee. She tried to hold it, ignore it, squeeze it back, but in the end, she gave up and crept her way farther back, back into the trees.

She rolled her eyes, pulled down her shorts, and crouched, keeping her feet wide to avoid the stream. Then she shook and shook until she was as dry as she was going to get. Just as she started to pull her shorts back up, the door creaked open.

She froze, shorts around her knees, bare butt inches off the ground, her lips pressed tight to hold back her breath.

She saw him in the next flash of lightning, and he looked wild to herhis close-cropped hair almost white in the storm light, his eyes so dark, and his teeth showing in a fierce grin.

Seeing him, half expecting him to throw back his head and howl like a wolf, she felt her heart thudding with the first true fear she’d ever known.

When he rubbed himself, down there, she felt her cheeks go hot as fire. Then he closed the door, the quick slam of it echoing. He shot the bolt homea hard, scraping sound that made her shiver. Her legs trembled from holding the awkward position while he tossed layers of old leaves over the door.

He stood a moment moreand oh, the lightning sizzled nowand played the beam of his light over the door. The backwash of it threw his face into relief so she saw only the hard edges, and the light, close-cropped hair made it look like a skull, eyes dark, soulless hollows.

He looked around, and for one terrible moment she feared he looked right at her. This man, she knew into her bones, would hurt her, would use hands and fists on her like the father who worked to provide security for his family never had.

With a helpless whimper in her throat, she thought: Please, Daddy. Please.

But he turned away, and with long, sure strides, went back the way he’d come.

She didn’t move a trembling muscle until she heard nothing but the night song, and the first stirring of the wind. The storm was rolling in, but her father was gone.

She hiked up her shorts and straightened, rubbing the pins and needles out of her legs.

No moon now, and all sense of adventure had dropped into a terrible dread.

But her eyes had adjusted enough for her to pick her way back to the leaf-covered door. She saw it only because she knew it was there.

She could hear her own breath now, wisping away on the swirl of wind. Cool air, but now she wanted warm. Her bones felt cold, like winter cold, and her hand shook as she bent down to brush the thick layers of leaves away.

She stared at the bolt, thick and rusted, barring the old wood door. Her fingers traced over it, but she didn’t want to open it now. She wanted to be back in her own bed, safe. She didn’t want that picture of her father, that wild picture.

But her fingers tugged on the bolt, and then she used both hands as it resisted. She set her teeth when it scraped open.

It was her bike, she told herself even while a terrible weight settled in her chest. Her shiny red birthday bike. That was what she would find.

Slowly, she lifted the door, looked down into the dark.

She swallowed hard, took the little flashlight out of her pocket, and, using its narrow beam, made her way down the ladder.

She had a sudden fear of her father’s face appearing in the opening. That wild and terrible look on his face. And that door slamming shut, closing her in. She nearly scrambled back up again, but she heard the whimper.

She froze on the ladder.

An animal was down here. Why would her daddy have an animal down . . . A puppy? Was that her birthday surprise? The puppy she’d always wanted but wasn’t allowed to have. Even Mason couldn’t beg them a puppy.

Tears stung her eyes as she dropped down to the dirt floor. She’d have to pray for forgiveness for the awful thoughtsthoughts were a sin as much as deedsshe’d had about her father.