When We Were Worthy by Marybeth Mayhew Whalen

Author:Marybeth Mayhew Whalen [Whalen, Marybeth Mayhew]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781503941601
Publisher: Lake Union Publishing
Published: 2017-09-11T23:00:00+00:00

Darcy

THURSDAY

She heard the noise like in a horror movie: a twig snapping, then footsteps, heavy, coming closer and closer to her window. She sat up in bed, moving around blindly for her phone on her nightstand, feeling alone and exposed without a man in bed next to her. When Tommy left she’d never been scared to be alone in the house, just lonely. Worthy, after all, was a safe place—or it had been before. Something had shifted the night of the accident. Something unknowable yet permanent, as if they’d opened the door of the town and invited the devil right on in.

She shuddered and hit the last number dialed. He answered on the first ring, though it was beyond the middle of the night, much later than their usual late-night talks. “Darcy?” he asked. “What is it?”

In spite of herself, she thrilled at his concern. And yet, as she started to give voice to her fear, she felt stupid, silly. She listened for a moment, to see if there were more noises outside her window before answering. “Darcy?” he asked again. “You there?”

“Yeah, sorry. I guess I had some sort of dream that freaked me out, then I woke up and thought I heard noises and . . . with everything going on with Graham and the football players’ threats, I got spooked. I’m sorry.” She laughed a little to lighten the mood. But outside, the darkness seemed pervasive, seeping into the cracks and filling the house.

“Do you need me to come over there?” he asked. She heard him moving around, as if he were already up, putting on pants, maybe running a comb through his hair. She liked the way he wore it a little longer than most of the men in town, who tended toward buzz cuts. His hair was a symbol, a lingering reminder that he’d gotten out, been other places, been shaped by a place beyond Worthy. Sometimes she had to refrain from reaching out and running her hands through it.

“No,” she said. But at the same time, she thought she heard the noise again, her voice not quite drowning it out. “Wait a minute,” she added, trying to listen.

“I’m on my way,” he said, and ended the call. She crawled out from under her covers, putting her feet on the cold floor. She was sleeping in a T-shirt and nothing else, so she quietly pulled a running bra from her drawer, a pair of sweatpants. She tiptoed around without turning on any lights, hoping that she wouldn’t let whoever was out there—if there was anyone out there at all—know that she was awake and aware. Once dressed, she brushed her teeth by the glow of the night-light she kept on in the bathroom, ran a brush through her hair. Then she went to check on Graham.

She found him sitting up on the couch, hunched over his phone, his fingers moving across the tiny keyboard, texting with God knew who at this time of night. He looked up when she entered the room.

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