New Hires at Local Schools
At Mundy’s Landing Elementary, a new fourth--grade teacher will replace retiring teacher Eloise Duncan in the upcoming school year. Born and raised in the village, Rowan Carmichael Mundy attended MLES and was a student in Mrs. Duncan’s classroom just over twenty--five years ago, as was her husband, Jake. The -couple moved back to their mutual hometown in 2002 and live on Riverview Drive with their three children, all of whom are students in the public school district. Asked how she feels about being employed at her alma mater, Ms. Mundy smiled and stated simply, “It’s home, and I’m glad to be back.”
Chapter 5
On Saturday evening, when Rowan drives around the bend and her house comes into view, she knows immediately that something is terribly wrong.
Night fell over an hour ago, but the windows are dark from attic to basement, and the porch light and lamppost are off.
She’d exchanged text messages with both Jake and Mick shortly before leaving Central Valley to make the long drive home. Mick was already gone, out for pizza with friends before tonight’s varsity hockey game, but Jake was home and suggested that they go out to dinner.
Date night? Marrana’s?
Sounds great! she’d responded even though it’s the last thing she feels like doing.
She has to force herself to keep driving toward the dark house, her heart pounding wildly as her mind flits through the possibilities, each horrific in its own way.
Jake knew she’d lied about where she was going this morning and decided to give her a taste of her own medicine, or . . .
Or he’d found the burnt cookies in the attic and figured out what had happened between her and Rick fourteen years ago and had walked out on her, or . . .
Or someone broke into the house and attacked him . . .
Or . . .
Or he dozed off watching TV before it got dark, she realizes with relief as she turns into the driveway and spots a telltale faint blue flicker in the living room window.
Ironic that her mind didn’t even go to that innocuous scenario despite the fact that it happens regularly.
It’s because her guilt has been festering all day.
As she was driving back from Manhattan, she’d worked herself into a panic about the box in the attic, worried that Jake might have decided to put up the outdoor Christmas lights this afternoon to surprise her.
They’re also stored in the attic—-yes, on the opposite end, but still . . .
Every year, she has to nag him to string the lights in the shrubs and along the porch eaves. This year—-the one year she’s been trying to keep him out of the attic and thus hasn’t mentioned it at all—-would be the one year he’d do it.
And if he’d gone poking around up there and found the package . . .
Oh, come on. One plus one doesn’t add up to five.
She tried to convince herself that a box filled with burnt cookies and old newspaper couldn’t possibly lead Jake to conclude that she’d been unfaithful. But by the time she arrived at the mall, paranoia had gotten the better of her.
She tried to call Noreen, but her sister didn’t pick up her cell or at the house. She left a message, trying to sound casual: “Loved your Christmas card. Call me back whenever you have a chance.”
Noreen is one of those -people who walks around with her phone in her pocket when it isn’t in her hand. She always returns calls promptly. This time, she didn’t.
Maybe she’s busy.
Of course she’s busy; she’s always busy.
Rowan takes a deep breath as she pulls around to the back of the house and parks beside Jake’s Jeep. After turning off the engine, she rests her forehead against the steering wheel for a moment, spent.