The Dark Layer

By Gina Penn

Annemarie Lukas Bredahl has recently left her husband and moved into a small but cozy house in the lower middle-class city of Holly, Ohio. Alone except for her dog and scared of being on her own, she tries to adapt to her newly single life.

As if things couldn’t get worse, she starts noticing items moving around on their own and the plumbing in her new place needs work. On a recommendation she calls Jackson Terry, a local plumber, and he proves to be the perfect distraction from her failing marriage.

Annemarie knows something isn’t right with the house. Crosses appear and disappear on the walls. Her dog goes missing. She consults her long-time priest and although at first unwilling to personally help, he tells her that her house may be filled with souls trying to escape Hell by slipping through a hole in the dark layer-a layer between Heaven and Hell.

This is too much for Annemarie. She only wants a normal new life and new relationship with Jackson. Instead, she must learn why the dark souls slipping through want her and her alone to guide them to what any damned soul wants-salvation.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gina Penn
• Release date: Nov 5, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465736598

Gina Penn

An Ohio native, Gina Penn is the author of three books, including "The Dark Layer"(fall 2013),"The Storm" (winter 2011) and "Learning To Fly". She supports the ASPCA with portions of the proceeds of her books and travels frequently for research. She attended Sinclair College in Dayton, Ohio. http://ginapennfiction.wordpress.com

Book preview

Annemarie woke with a start. She sat up straight in bed, tee-shirt clinging to the hollows of her body, heart hammering in her chest. She looked around, trying to focus. Shadows darkened every corner of the small, strange bedroom. There was nothing familiar around her and the noises sounded alien. Outside the window, a tree branch creaked in the wind. The nightly news had warned a storm may be coming in and from the sounds of it, the weatherman might actually be right for once.

She put a hand to her chest and filled her lungs, trying to steady the rapid throb of her heartbeat. This was the second night in a row she had had this nightmare and it was beginning to make her afraid to go to sleep. Her mind’s eye kept seeing him, lying on the bed, dark hair in contrast to the shocking white pillowcase, body partially covered by a cream colored sheet (the one she had just put on their bed that morning) but then another head turned to look at her. A face that didn’t belong. An unfamiliar face.

Her face.

She let out a shaky breath and felt a little better. The bitterness of the dream began to fall away and reality sank in. It was a reality she wasn’t entirely happy with but one she could live with. She swung her legs to the side of the bed and felt around for her slippers. She could just make out the clock radio on the other side of the room and it read 2:59 a.m. in bright blue numbers. Thank goodness it was Saturday, well, now technically Sunday morning and she didn’t have to be at work in four hours. Otherwise, she’d be a walking zombie.

Maybe some water would help her sleep.

She went down the short hallway and through the living room, boxes still scattered and stacked everywhere, and stepped onto the kitchen’s old and scuffed linoleum floor. She almost went to the left, which was the path she would have taken at her old house to go to the refrigerator. Now the refrigerator was to her right, in the corner. Three boxes were stacked by the window and in her half-asleep stupor she realized she had no idea what box the glasses or cups were in. She put her hands on her hips. Nothing ever came easily.

Also, there wasn’t anything in the refrigerator yet, including water.

She still wanted a glass of water even after assessing the task at hand. She knelt down by the first box and pulled it open. Plates, saucers, and a single saucepan. No cups. No good. She pushed that one off to the side and pulled box number two toward her and opened it. A few more pans and a few kitchen utensils. Of course it would be the very last box she randomly picked to look in because picking the right one the first time would have been too easy. The last box popped open and bingo, here were mugs, glasses, and a few more kitchen utensils, all carefully wrapped up in some kitchen towels and washcloths. A poor person’s bubble wrap.

Annemarie picked one and unwrapped it. The mug she had chosen was black and read Bellagio, Las Vegas, Nevada on the side. When she saw this, she closed her eyes and sighed. She hadn’t packed this mug but here it was.

Dammit, Thomas, she muttered. She didn’t want to use this mug, thought it would look better in the trash can instead of in the cabinets, but she was tired and thirsty and didn’t feel like digging around through the box anymore.

She rose and went to the sink. The faucet looked old and the cold water knob, which at one time had been crystal clear, was now stained and opaque. She twisted it and let the water run for a few moments before holding her mug underneath the flow. After a time, she took a drink. Bleck, she thought, her face grimacing after taking a sip. It tasted cold but with a hint of chlorine. Holly’s fine water, she thought with disdain. If she could taste the chlorine so clearly she wondered what was in the water that the city was trying so desperately to kill. After forcing another gulp, she dumped the rest down the drain, set the mug she didn’t want in the sink, and made a mental note to pick up a water filter the next time she went to the store.

When she turned, her dog, Carmody, a five-year-old lab/shepherd mix that she and Thomas had adopted from a local shelter back when they were happy and confident, had decided to climb out of bed and follow her into the kitchen. She was a good dog and Annemarie smiled as Carmody sat patiently on the floor, wagging her tail.

Do you need to go outside, girl?

The dog’s tail wagged faster.

Okay.

When Annemarie was out looking for houses to rent after learning about the affair that her husband, Thomas, was having, she knew it wouldn’t be easy to find something in her price range that also allowed her to have a dog. During their discussion to separate, Annemarie had built up her defenses in advance, preparing for a fight about the dog and keeping the notion firmly in her mind that she absolutely would not bargain when it came to Carmody; she was going and she was taking the dog, like it or not. You’ve ruined my life, completely gutted it from the inside out, she had said to Thomas as he sat on the couch, his hands rubbing his face. I’m not even going to debate whether or not Carmody comes with me. She’s coming with me and I don’t want to hear any argument you may have about it.

But Thomas never argued about Carmody. He had folded like a cheap suit.

On the final moving trip, after everything she wanted to take was out of the house, Thomas sat on the couch and watched Annemarie put the harness and leash on their dog and then stand up, ready to walk her toward the door.

Annemarie, he said to her at last and she wasn’t completely surprised. He had been wearing a pair of jeans and the Columbus Blue Jackets shirt she had bought for him when they had gone to the game a few years back. It was faded and worn and his favorite lazy Saturday afternoon shirt. You don’t have to leave.

But Annemarie’s face was unmoving. Thomas, she began and looked at the ceiling, feeling aggravated that he would try to do this now, after she and three friends had worked tirelessly all day packing and moving things out to the truck. Carmody was excited to be on a leash and was wagging her tail and trying to head for the door, thinking she was simply going for a walk and not knowing that as far as Annemarie was concerned, this would be the last time she would ever be in this house. We’ve been through this a thousand times and it never changes.

You don’t want to work this out?

There’s no working it out.

He stood up and walked over toward her. He was a good-looking man of medium height with dark hair and sharp eyes. Even through Annemarie’s stubborn anger and dislike for the man she had married, she couldn’t help but admire the way he walked. Thomas was a real gym rat, going at least three or four times a week when he wasn’t at the office. Maybe that’s where he met her, Annemarie reminded herself whenever she was distracted by his good looks. It helped her to stay angry. The last thing in the world she wanted was to cave in and embrace the man that had looked so gratified when his mistress had been on top of him.

Well, gratified until he noticed Annemarie standing in the doorway.

He stood just a foot away from her and the scent of his cologne filled her nose. He raised his hand and gently touched her elbow. Annemarie pulled away, as if she had been zapped.

Please don’t touch me, she said. My mind’s made up.

With that, and not wanting to listen to another schmoozy word out of his mouth, she turned and walked toward the door, Carmody leading the way. Thomas hadn’t gone after her. There was no episode of him jogging by the car, pleading with her to stay, no tears, no Thomas on his knees begging for forgiveness. He simply stood there and let her walk out the door and out of his life and once she was gone he would go back to watching television. Deep down inside, Annemarie had been disappointed.

That had been her yesterday.

Carmody uttered a curt little bark, breaking Annemarie from her trance. She knelt down and stroked the dog’s nose and velvet ears. She had fallen in love with Carmody from the very moment she had seen her at the shelter. The dog had endless energy, never stopped wagging her tail, and loved the game of fetch more than anything in the world. When Annemarie had found this house, she had chosen it over the others, even though it was smaller than the one she had initially liked. What set it apart was the backyard. It was large enough for a seventy pound dog to run in and completely fenced in so she couldn’t get out. A huge tree stood guard dead center and a large wooden deck overlooked the yard. An old picnic table sat on the deck and Annemarie thought if she could afford a small grill when summer came back around, she could have some friends over for a cookout and some wine.

Annemarie opened the back door. Carmody tore outside and down the deck steps, disappearing into the darkness of the yard. She could hear rustling as the dog stepped on fallen branches, dead leaves, and grass but couldn’t see her without turning on the flood light. The night air’s chilly hands patted her cheeks. Branches creaked as the wind picked up. Yep, a storm seemed likely, maybe only minutes away.

Regardless of the bitter late October cold, Annemarie stepped over to the picnic table and sat down. The seat chilled her bottom instantly through her thin pajama pants but instead of going back in to the warmth of the house, she stayed and turned her face to the wind, closing her eyes. She thought about Thomas and how much she hated him for what he did to her. She wasn’t afraid of change but she had loved the house they lived in and would have stayed there forever. She loved him. They had been together for six years, three of them married. She had names picked out for the children they were going to have. They were going to be together forever. She had decided she wasn’t going to be like some of her friends and end up divorced, bitter, and sarcastic about love. Thomas was a great man, had a great job, and took excellent care of her. He was funny, charming, and simply impossible not to like upon meeting him. Thomas was the guy all the girls in the office swooned over but he had chosen her. Annemarie had gone from being a single girl living in a two bedroom apartment to living with Thomas in his fabulous house in Opal and eventually taking the coveted spot of being Mrs. Thomas Bredahl. He’s a ladies man, her cousin Kim had warned her. Kim worked with Thomas and had been the one that initially introduced them. He eats up all the attention he gets with a spoon. But he’s fun to look at. Annemarie had shrugged it off. Now she wished she had listened.

The wind whipped her dark hair around her face and she felt the first few cold drops of the oncoming storm on her arm. There was no sign of Carmody; the yard was still new to her and she wanted to spend as much time as possible peeing on it to make it her own. The yard was dark and a little creepy. Definitely can’t fit a pool back there, she thought sullenly. A month before she had left Thomas, they had closed their in-ground pool for the season. She had spent a lot of hot summer days and nights around that pool and she knew a big part of her would miss it terribly. Was already missing it.

She felt wetness on her face that at first she mistook for rain. Then she realized what it was and wiped it away with a little frustration. She stood up, called for the dog, and walked toward her back door. Carmody zipped up the steps and was by her side just as she reached for the knob.

She squinted at the bright kitchen light as she came in. Carmody brushed by her and began sniffing by the sink and around the refrigerator, then disappeared into the living room with a flip of her tail. Annemarie smiled at the dog’s ability to immediately love new places. Then, she saw something strange.

The mug she had used to drink the nasty tap water from sat on the counter, the word Vegas clearly visible. But it shouldn’t be visible at all because she remembered putting the mug inside the sink and not on the counter.

Somehow the mug had moved.

Hadn’t it?

She thought back to a few minutes ago and could see herself setting the mug inside the sink. It had even made a metallic scraping as it scooted across the surface. Mugs don’t move themselves.

Annemarie stood still for a few moments and held her breath while she listened. If someone was in the house, had broken in, wouldn’t Carmody have found them by now?

She brushed it off as her own silliness, turned off the kitchen light, and went back to bed. She slept the rest of the night and didn’t dream.

Chapter 2

The first few weeks of life in her new home slid by quickly. Her cousin, Kim, stopped by to check the new place out and help her unpack some stray boxes. Since Annemarie was short on a lot of furniture, Kim had combed through her own things and was able to part with a microwave she wasn’t using, a sofa, recliner, and a kitchen table that had been sitting in her garage for about two years. At first, Annemarie had balked at accepting the gifts, saying that she couldn’t possibly take so many big items but Kim had insisted it was no bother. She even told Annemarie it was a big help so she could clear those items out and get all new stuff. Annemarie wasn’t sure how much of that was true but she took the items with great appreciation.

There had been very little time to save back any money. Only two months earlier Annemarie hadn’t planned on moving anywhere but she did have a savings account where she had pocketed money away in preparation for a rainy day. Now she blessed herself for it. The account had been opened two years earlier and to Annemarie’s knowledge neither she nor Thomas had taken any money out of that account at all. Thomas had contributed money to it but insisted it was hers after she told him she was leaving and they began the arduous task of hashing out the details of the bank accounts and how they would be split up. After taking a small amount from it as well as plunking her entire paycheck into the deposit and first month’s rent for the house, she had just under fifteen hundred dollars left. Not a huge amount of money but enough to purchase a few necessities for the house and put food in the cabinets. She made a rule that she would try to spend as little as possible from that account and keep it in case of emergencies only. Her paycheck would cover the rent and utilities with a small amount left over for food and almost nothing else. If she was promoted at her job within the next year, which she hoped to be, then any pay increase would help her to keep her hand out of that cookie jar. She would just have to keep away from Macy’s and off eBay to stay out of trouble. The sacrifices she was making were beginning to add up and she found she was constantly reminding herself why it was she had left. Every time she put something down at the store because she didn’t really need it she was reminded of the type of life she had lived with Thomas. She was used to buying what she wanted, whenever she wanted. Now, she was making tough decisions and picking off-brands from the shelves instead of the stuff she liked. The sacrifices were worth it but it was a depressing reality indeed.

Friday rolled around and Annemarie came home from work exhausted. She had been working customer support for a small pet food distribution company for the past eight years. Having the same stores, vets, and breeders as accounts kept the business/customer relationship casual but regardless of how long she had been handling her customers, she was never surprised at how quickly they became angry whenever their orders were received incorrectly. On this particular day five of her biggest accounts had found mistakes in their orders and four of those mistakes had been due to Annemarie keying them into the computer incorrectly. For one store, they had been shorted ten forty-pound bags of dog food, a large amount, almost all of what the store kept in stock for the week. The missing bags were shipped by UPS, which was extremely expensive. At the end of the day she wasn’t surprised when her desk phone rang and the ID told her it was her boss’s office. She took a deep breath for bravery and walked slowly to the door marked Gary Abbott. After knocking, she was immediately told to come in.

Have a seat, Annemarie, her boss told her. He was a tall, thin man with a long face and salt and pepper hair. He spoke with a lazy, complacent tone and many of the associates had jokingly referred to Gary as Lumberg after the character from the movie. Behind his back, of course.

How are you doing? he asked her. It was simply an opener; he knew exactly how she was doing.

Annemarie smiled wanly. Not my best day today.

Yeah, I see that. Talk to me. You okay?

Annemarie was so shocked by the sudden concern that she felt a small sting of tears. After a couple of blinks, they were gone. I, uh, recently left my husband. I’m still trying to deal with that. It hasn’t been easy, sir, and I’m sorry about the mistakes on the orders. I promise it won’t happen again.

Gary leaned back in his chair, his slender arms supporting his head. Yeah, I heard about that. He leaned forward and rested his arms on top of the desk, exposing a very shiny watch. He appeared serious. Do you think you might need some time off? It wouldn’t be a problem, you know.

She shook her head. No, sir, that won’t be necessary. If anything, work has been a nice distraction. If I had to sit at home and dwell on this, I’d go a little crazy.

Gary smiled a big toothy grin. Okay, he said. I just want to make sure you understand we’re a family here and we’re supporting you. Divorces are messy things. Trust me, I know.

His eyes fell to a picture on his desk and Annemarie instantly knew why he said what he did. A few years ago, Gary had caught his own wife in a similar compromising position with her much younger lover. The divorce had not only torn the man apart emotionally but financially as well. His ex was now living quite well off of him halfway across the state, along with their only daughter whom Gary barely got to see. The gossip of that encounter had spread quickly through the small company of about fifty people and Gary had never forgotten the way his co-workers would suddenly stop talking and watch him whenever he walked into the lunchroom. It was that type of behavior that had prompted him to start taking lunch in his office; a practice he still did to this day.

Annemarie simply nodded her head, not wanting to open any old wounds and make them bleed again. Thank you, sir, I appreciate the kind words.

And Annemarie did. That day, as she pushed the door to her new place open and walked in, she stopped for a moment and visually took in the living room. Everything had been unpacked and what small amount of items she owned were on display in front of her. Small, used items, used furniture and practically bare walls. So different from her other life. And sort of sad.

The house was quiet and still. Dusty late afternoon sunbeams cut through the air. Carmody was outside since it was an unseasonably warm and mild late October day. The realization struck her that if she lost her job, she was on her own. Everything around her was now resting firmly on her own shoulders and there was no backup, no safety net. It was all on her.

The thought made her stomach flutter nervously.

From outside there came a series of short barks. Carmody had heard the car pull up and knew she was home. Annemarie smiled and thought at least someone at home was excited to see her.

She headed toward the back door, opened it, and went outside to play with her dog. While she was outside, her cell phone began to ring. It rang five times then sent the caller to voicemail. The caller ID read Thomas Bredahl. Later, when Annemarie and Carmody came inside, she saw the call and deleted it without listening to the voicemail but thought about him more than she should have. She wondered, as she drifted off to sleep that night with only the dog for company, where Thomas was and what he was doing.

Chapter 3

Time passed slowly. Two weeks went by and it felt like two years. The house was a comfort and a prison at the same time. She hadn’t realized how much noise and life another human being brought and she would have never believed how much she would miss it. Evenings were quiet and slow and filled with boring routine. Days were work and weekends were spent trying to find inventive ways to fill gaps of time. Nellie, a friend from work, was already trying to fix Annemarie up with her son who was only a year older than she but worked as a successful CFO for a prominent local business. Annemarie was flattered but declined, citing the excuse that it was too soon to start seeing other people.

However, this wasn’t really how she felt. It was over, she told herself, but she hated that it was over. She hated herself for still loving him after what he’d done, what she was positive had been going on for a while, practically under her nose. She would lie in bed at night and Thomas was all she would think about. Their marriage was so important to her and the possibility of going back to him seemed so plausible. She was beginning to convince herself that she had reacted too rashly, too suddenly, without even considering the possibility of maybe going to counseling or getting to the root of why he cheated to begin with. She had allowed her hate to guide her and now she felt like a tiny rowboat being tossed by angry waves on the Sea of Loneliness.

No lawyers were involved yet. Thomas was convinced she was going to come back so he believed he didn’t need one. Annemarie stubbornly hadn’t gotten one because she wasn’t yet prepared to spend the extra money sitting in the bank. She liked seeing the number there, a constant umbrella in case of rain, especially after her frightful experience in Gary Abbott’s office when they were discussing her mistakes. It wasn’t something she wanted to lose just yet. Nellie had told her that she better not be entertaining the thought of going back to Thomas after what he had done to her and Annemarie had revolted, telling her absolutely not. But that was a lie. After sleeping alone in a new place, trying to get used to being on her own and thinking of Thomas’s strong arms and the intoxicating smell of his clean skin after a shower, she admitted only to herself that she thought about it often. During the day it was easy to say it was over. But night was her weakness. Nighttime was when all the dark thoughts that were hovering like lazy ghosts in the back of your mind came to the surface to be recognized. That was when she had her doubts.

And she admitted she missed the fantastic sex as well.

Annemarie had masturbated in bed once after a long day and even though she had tried her best to picture someone like Brad Pitt or Johnny Depp, her mind faithfully went back to Thomas and his eyes. After she came, her body as unfulfilled as her house was quiet, her face rolled over to the little nightstand by the bed and her cell phone hooked up to the charger. She realized that if she called Thomas and asked him to come over, he would be there and in less than an hour, she could have him naked and on top of her. But she couldn’t do that. She wouldn’t do that even though it would be so easy, so simple, and it would feel so good. She cried herself to sleep that night, asking if she really did the right thing, then why was she so damned miserable?

On a cold but sunny Saturday afternoon, Annemarie took a shower even though she didn’t need one but wanted to kill some time before having lunch. The mirror above the sink was completely fogged over and she used a hand towel to wipe it down until she saw her reflection. Her hand reached instinctively toward the small table beside the sink where all of her bathroom necessities were-brush, hair ties, makeup-and touched the spot where her comb would normally be. Her fingers didn’t find the comb and her eyes told her it wasn’t there.

Where did I put my comb? she asked. The last time she used it was this morning after getting up and she specifically remembered placing it back on the table in the bathroom. Annemarie knew herself well enough to know that if she didn’t always put things back where they belonged, she would never find them again and so she had developed a habit to find a place for everything and put everything in its place.

The comb was not currently in its place.

She glanced around the bathroom and saw the comb lying on the floor on the opposite side of the toilet. Strange place for it. How could it have gotten way over there? Unless, of course, Carmody had strayed in when Annemarie wasn’t looking and knocked it over. She’s done that before, her endlessly wagging tail could be a weapon of sorts.

Annemarie picked it up and combed through her long, wet hair. When she was done, she looked at her teeth in the mirror and then her tongue. She studied her face, looking for zits or blemishes and thankfully didn’t see any today.

A sudden call of nature hit her and she hitched up her robe and sat down on the toilet. She felt cheated after only a few drops of urine fell into the toilet and nothing more. She pulled off a little toilet paper, wiped, stood up, and flushed. She was busy examining her face in the mirror again when she noticed that the water hadn’t gone down but instead had risen way up and was about to spill over the lip of the toilet.

Shit! she said, stepping out of the way just in time to avoid being splashed. She pulled a towel off the floor and tossed it into the hallway before it could be soaked and ruined. The water in the toilet gently splashed onto the floor and then crept over toward the little table. Annemarie tried desperately to think of where her plunger was and then remembered that she didn’t have a plunger. Why in the hell had the toilet overflowed when she had barely filled it up to begin with? It had been fine up until today.

The water finally began to slow down. The level inside the toilet didn’t drop but at least no more was spilling over the side. She stared at the wet floor, disgusted and helpless. Once she decided it was safe to leave it alone and everything within damaging distance was removed, she stalked into the living room, located her phone and dialed the landlord.

Annemarie prepared in her mind exactly what she would say and how angry she would be as the line rang in her ear. She didn’t want to be too off-putting, otherwise the landlord may blow her off or delay calling a plumber. She didn’t want to be too passive or he might think it was no big deal. It rang a couple more times and then clicked over to voice mail. The man’s voice on the other end apologized for not answering her call but assured her he would return her call as soon as possible. Right, she thought. Then there was a beep.

Mr. Butler, this is Annemarie Lukas on Silver Lane and my toilet is overflowing. Could you please call me back when you get this message? Thanks.

She pressed the disconnect button, studied the phone to be sure there was no connection at all and then yelled, Cocksucker! Where in the hell was he while her toilet was throwing up all over her floor? Was she going to have to deal with this mess all day? All weekend?

She scrolled upward in her address book and saw Bredahl, Thomas and to the right of that, their home number. Surely this was something she could call Thomas for, yes? Calling him and seeing if he could suggest something for her to do wouldn’t upset the breakup gods that much, would it? Maybe not the gods but with her finger hovering over the call button next to his name, she pictured Nellie’s face and Kim’s face and the faces of her closest friends and wondered what they would think. They would probably be disappointed in her, that’s for certain. But her toilet was flooding the bathroom, what else could she do?

Call a plumber yourself, her mind whispered back.

But that would mean possibly digging into that savings account she wanted so badly to protect. Maybe if she waited just a little while, the landlord would call back and send someone over. However, as she stood in front of the bathroom and grimaced at the mess on the floor, her nose made the decision for her. The stink was horrible. She didn’t want to go to bed that night with that smell stuck in her sinuses.

Annemarie pulled out the phone book that was on top of the refrigerator in the kitchen. She hardly ever used the yellow pages but this way would be easier and quicker than using the Internet. Scanning over the entries, she saw that this area had several plumbers and a few had expensive-looking, color ads displaying pictures of toilets and letting her know that they could fix any clog, anytime. Annemarie called a couple of these plumbers and discovered that their anytime consisted of weekdays only, no weekends. The fourth one, unfortunately, weekends they were on call and the tired-sounding woman that spoke to her advised her that they were currently out on a big job and wouldn’t be back for several hours.

Try Jackson Terry, the woman’s voice told her. He’s in the book, he’s fairly inexpensive but does good, thorough work. We recommend him because he tends to be available on weekends.

Annemarie thanked her for the tip, hung up the phone, and found the ad for Jackson Terry. The ad wasn’t fancy but it was local and the words All weekends, all the time sounded good enough for her. She dialed the number, it rang a few times, and then a cheery sounding man picked up.

Hello?

This greeting startled her. Annemarie wasn’t expecting a hello, she was expecting someone to reassure her that she had phoned the right place. Is this Jackson Terry Plumbing?

Sure is, the voice reassured. What can I do you for?

My toilet is overflowing, she began. I just moved into this house and haven’t had any problems with the plumbing until now.

Sure, no problem, he said. Probably just old piping clogged up. I can come right now if you want.

Annemarie’s eyebrows went up in surprise. She wasn’t sure if she should be grateful or skeptical that this man was available so quickly. Great, she told him and then wondered if she made the right choice. A nervous little butterfly was caught in her stomach.

What’s your address?

Knowing that she was already in for a penny she figured she might as well go in for a pound. 15 Silver Lane.

The voice laughed. You’re just four streets over from me. I’ll be there in about ten minutes.

She told him that that would be great and hung up her cell phone. Mentally she went over in her mind if she had seen any plumbing businesses in the area and couldn’t think of any. But then she realized he must be at home and probably drives his work truck to his house on the weekends. That simple ad and his informal phone greeting all but screamed self-employed. He sounded younger than she pictured, definitely not the voice she’d expect from a man who was a plumber. She pushed that thought to the back of her mind and reminded herself he would be here in ten minutes and she was still wearing only a robe.

Chapter 4

The knock on the door came just as quickly as the man had promised. Annemarie barely had enough time to dress in a pair of jeans and a shirt when she heard the knock and came out into the living room with no shoes or socks on. Carmody heard the knock on the door too and began to bark and jump on the couch so she could see who was at the door through the window. She yelled for the man to Hang on! and pulled Carmody off the couch by her collar and got her to go outside in the backyard. Her bare feet pounded on the floor as she hurried to answer it, hoping the man wouldn’t be flustered by having to wait.

She swung the door open and a young man stood there. He had on a blue jumpsuit and held a toolbox in his left hand. His hair was dirty blonde, a little longer than shoulder length and pulled into a loose ponytail behind him. She also noticed his smile; it was big and genuine.

Wow, she thought. He’s a plumber?

Hello, the man said. Having a problem with your toilet?

It took a moment for Annemarie to wake up out of her spell. Later, when she was recalling the day’s events from the comfort of her own bed, she dismissed it as nothing more than the hormones of a sex-deprived woman scoping out the hot, young plumber that was about to come into her house and help her with her problem. The thought of having a man, a young, good-looking man at that, come into her home and help her with things that normally a man would do, was overwhelming.

Yeah, she replied, holding the door open wider. Come on in. Said the spider to the fly floated through her brain before she could stop it.

The man stepped in on heavy work boots and stopped in the middle of the living room. Which way to the bathroom?

Through this way, Annemarie pointed to the right. She walked behind him and admired the view from the rear. Not bad.

He found the bathroom, saw the mess, and said he needed to go out to his truck for a moment. Annemarie went into the living room and sat on the sofa as he went out the front door. She rubbed her face and squeezed her eyes shut, thinking how pathetic she was acting, eyeing this guy the way a hungry wolf eyes a sheep and then her thoughts drifted back to Thomas. Maybe she should have called him after all. At least she knew him and he was her husband. There would be no real betrayal there if he came over and helped her. And if she had a moment of weakness and they happened to sleep together, it wouldn’t be as bad as sleeping with a complete stranger, would it?

She peeked out the window and saw him press a button on his cell phone, slip it back into his pocket, and button it up for safety. He then headed back toward the house with a tool in his hand. She quickly turned away from the window, not wanting him to catch her spying.

He knocked and then opened the door. Annemarie couldn’t help but find it cute the way he peeked in the house and didn’t step back in until he saw her sitting on the couch. Sorry, he said. Phone call.

No problem, she said and watched him go back through the hallway. Inside her chest, her heart pumped wildly.

She tried to distract herself so she wouldn’t seem like a nosyparker, but it was difficult. All the perfume ads in her Cosmo magazine had been ripped and smelled and thus, held no interest for her. The games on her cell phone were old and overplayed. Her ears stayed perked and listened to the sloshing sounds coming from the bathroom. She couldn’t see anything from where she sat on the couch, which was probably for the best. She rubbed her arms and played with her hair, a nervous habit since childhood. She got up and walked through the kitchen a few times to peek out the window and check on the dog but Carmody was fine and didn’t need Annemarie; the dog had located a sunny spot on the deck and was curled up with her nose touching her tail. Finally, it was too much for Annemarie to bear and she stepped quietly into the hallway to see what was going on.

The man stood with his back to her and he was running a long snake into the toilet. His body quivered as he jerked upward on the tool, pulling it up and examining the contents of what was causing the backup. Annemarie stepped forward and gagged at what she saw. Wet, red-stained tampons, the strings tangled up in the hooks of the snake, old toilet paper, and smelly goo dangled down. He looked over his shoulder just as she gasped and Annemarie caught his eyes looking at her not as a customer but as a woman.

Oh, that’s disgusting, she said, embarrassed. I’ve only been here a few weeks. Do those really back up that quickly?

He appeared to believe her, flashing a big smile. It’s probably been there for a while, he replied. The companies tell you it’s okay to flush this stuff but really it’s not as flushable as they say.

I didn’t know that, she replied.

My ex used to do it all the time, he said. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.

Annemarie was a little taken aback by him mentioning an ex. His baby face didn’t look old enough to have gotten married and divorced already. She figured he was referring to an ex girlfriend and then told herself he probably had a slew of them tucked away in the long, dark hallways of his cell phone address book. She realized he was watching her and she simply nodded her head to let him know she had heard him.

It won’t be long now, he told her. I can get this cleared and cleaned up for you in no time. If you want, you don’t have to watch this, I know it’s kind of gross.

Okay, she said and went back into the living room.

He was as quick as he promised. Annemarie went to get something to drink, sat down at the table, and before she had drunk half her can of Coke, he came into the kitchen and told her it