In the days that followed, Cat moved uneasily through the house. She couldn't find anything out of order, but sometimes she felt oppressed, suffocated. It felt as if the house harbored a presence that did not want her there. She convinced herself that it was just her imagination running wild, and the stress of Peter's uncoming arrival didn't do her much good either. It would be the first confrontation with Peter -face to face that was- after the divorce. Chris sensed his mothers unease and went out of her way mostly, still enjoying the days off and the warm summer at Haven's End.
Nothing out of the ordinary happened in the days before Peter's arrival. Cat went to bed the first night after the last nightmare with fright, but she was no longer plagued by dreams or strange happenings in her room. During the days, everything seemed quiet. Mrs. Buckner sometimes tottered along the path near the house, but she never made any remarks, and Cat avoided to talk to her. Her visits to the town of Haven's End were quiet, and enjoyable. She had managed to get a part time job at the local library in the mornings since Chris was away most of the time, and the empty house started to bore her. Chris walked around with the key to the house on a string around his neck, and had said with a serious face to her: "Now I am the man of the house, right mom?"
Cat had suppressed a smile and nodded gravely. "Yes sweetheart, and I trust you to not take your responsibility lightly." And they'd both drunk a hot chocolate to seal their pact.
Peter arrived late at night on a Wednesday, disgruntled and wrinkled from the long drive. "It would be too much to ask for an airport nearby, now would it" were the first words issued from his mouth. He called her from his room in the Haven's End Inn, and sounded curt, and not all too happy to be there. He said he'd come pick up Chris first thing next morning and go "fishing or something". Chris was looking forward to spending time with his dad after such a long while, but Cat heard a mild annoyance in Peter's voice. Peter had never been that responsible to begin with, and she feared that contact with Chris would dwindle over time. Especially now that he had remarried again and there was a baby underway. But, for the time being, he was here. She hoped she could avoid his presence as much as possible. The last thing she wanted now was another fall out in Chris's presence. The boy had been hurt enough, and it seemed that the move, and this care free summer had finally allowed him to bounce back a little.
***********
"Chris? Hurry up honey, your dad will be here any minute!" Cat looked up the stairs with an irritated frown on her face. Why did it have to be this morning of all mornings that Chris could not be bothered to be on time? She did not want to have to invite Peter in, but that would inevitably be the case if Chris wasn't downstairs on time. But she could hardly tell Chris that. So she just stood there, tapping her fingers impatiently on the rail of the stairs. Tap tap tap. She looked around, squinting her eyes, trying to discern the path to the house through the milky glass in the front door. Nothing yet.
Tap tap tap
"Chris?"
Cat heard a car pull up on the gravel road, and watched the dark form closing in on the house with disdain. "Chris, come down now, your father is here!" "Just a minute!" came his light, 8-year old voice back to her.
The doorbell rang. Cat walked to the door with lead in her shoes, opened it and looked upon Peter's very familiar face. He was frowning. "You might as well come in," she sighed, and led him to the living room.
When Chris came down he found his parents sitting stiffly opposite eachother, the tension palpable. Peter rose, visibly relieved, and left, leaving Cathy without saying a word to her.
"Come on, sport, lets see what we can do around here in this quiet little speck of a town..."
Nothing out of the ordinary happened in the days before Peter's arrival. Cat went to bed the first night after the last nightmare with fright, but she was no longer plagued by dreams or strange happenings in her room. During the days, everything seemed quiet. Mrs. Buckner sometimes tottered along the path near the house, but she never made any remarks, and Cat avoided to talk to her. Her visits to the town of Haven's End were quiet, and enjoyable. She had managed to get a part time job at the local library in the mornings since Chris was away most of the time, and the empty house started to bore her. Chris walked around with the key to the house on a string around his neck, and had said with a serious face to her: "Now I am the man of the house, right mom?"
Cat had suppressed a smile and nodded gravely. "Yes sweetheart, and I trust you to not take your responsibility lightly." And they'd both drunk a hot chocolate to seal their pact.
Peter arrived late at night on a Wednesday, disgruntled and wrinkled from the long drive. "It would be too much to ask for an airport nearby, now would it" were the first words issued from his mouth. He called her from his room in the Haven's End Inn, and sounded curt, and not all too happy to be there. He said he'd come pick up Chris first thing next morning and go "fishing or something". Chris was looking forward to spending time with his dad after such a long while, but Cat heard a mild annoyance in Peter's voice. Peter had never been that responsible to begin with, and she feared that contact with Chris would dwindle over time. Especially now that he had remarried again and there was a baby underway. But, for the time being, he was here. She hoped she could avoid his presence as much as possible. The last thing she wanted now was another fall out in Chris's presence. The boy had been hurt enough, and it seemed that the move, and this care free summer had finally allowed him to bounce back a little.
***********
"Chris? Hurry up honey, your dad will be here any minute!" Cat looked up the stairs with an irritated frown on her face. Why did it have to be this morning of all mornings that Chris could not be bothered to be on time? She did not want to have to invite Peter in, but that would inevitably be the case if Chris wasn't downstairs on time. But she could hardly tell Chris that. So she just stood there, tapping her fingers impatiently on the rail of the stairs. Tap tap tap. She looked around, squinting her eyes, trying to discern the path to the house through the milky glass in the front door. Nothing yet.
Tap tap tap
"Chris?"
Cat heard a car pull up on the gravel road, and watched the dark form closing in on the house with disdain. "Chris, come down now, your father is here!" "Just a minute!" came his light, 8-year old voice back to her.
The doorbell rang. Cat walked to the door with lead in her shoes, opened it and looked upon Peter's very familiar face. He was frowning. "You might as well come in," she sighed, and led him to the living room.
When Chris came down he found his parents sitting stiffly opposite eachother, the tension palpable. Peter rose, visibly relieved, and left, leaving Cathy without saying a word to her.
"Come on, sport, lets see what we can do around here in this quiet little speck of a town..."