You Didn't Have to Come Back

"You didn't have to come back here if you didn't want to."

"And where else was I going to go?" A careless shrug.

"You didn't have to come back here if you didn't want to."

"You keep saying that, but it's wrong."

Winter fell and fell hard over River Valley. Blankets of snow and ice covered everything. Tendrils of natural glass hanging in slivers from the trees. Chase hated this time of year. Hated what it reminded her of, but Harvey loved it. When she recalled it all, Chase realized that was probably part of why she hated winter, too.

Things hadn't always been that way.

Once, there had been a good feeling between them. The going was easier back then when there weren't as many shadows. Things had changed a lot in twenty years, though, and Chase could no longer look at her husband the way she used to.

It wasn't any one thing in particular. Rather, it was a big heap of things, and neither one of them had the tools to scrape the muck away.

So instead, they soldiered on. Resentful and cold, until finally the tension broke in an emotional explosion and Harvey's affair with the girl from the Seven-Eleven.

"Should I make up the couch?"

"A bed would be nice."

Silence stretched between them.

"Chase…"

She blushed and felt her stomach turn. She hadn't thought about the possibility that there might be someone else, but now that nightmare was crashing down all around her. Awkwardly, she tried to change the subject.

"It'll just be one night. Two at the most. I'll be out of here and out of the way. It's the new house. It's not ready. These contractors run their own timelines. I can get a hotel if it's a problem…"

Harvey at least had the good sense to relent.

"There's no need for all that. You're here now. There's a pull-out sofa in the office. I'll get some blankets and we'll set you up on that. If you need more room, you can spread out in the den."

"Thanks."

---

It was strange, being back in the old house that they once shared.

The walls had been painted in dull shades of beige and brackish green, with muted furniture to match, but the bones remained the same. Molded ceilings gave way to inset cabinets. The enormous staircase still stood, oak-clad, in the middle of it all. The grand centerpiece of a house that stood proud for more than a hundred years.

Chase knew that there was another bedroom. The one at the end of the landing. Both of them knew better than to speak of that. So, after locking up the car and rolling her suitcase into the little office, she settled in for the night.

"Come on then," she said, patting the edge of the bed. Her dog, Rodger, tired from the day's journey and happy for the invitation, jumped onto the makeshift bed beside her and fell asleep fast enough to baffle Chase. She envied the collie's good nature and the ease with which he was navigating the upheaval.

Rodger had been her saving grace in the days after the divorce. Everything had been going wrong then, and rescuing a dog had been the last thing on Chase's mind. It had been the first thing on Hannah's mind, though, that Wednesday afternoon when she had peeled Chase off of her couch and bullied her into the car and into the animal shelter.

"Come on, Chase. Remember when we used to volunteer at the shelter near the university? We had so much fun. Let's do that again! There's a shelter here in town. Right up the road. Let's go check it out. You owe me, remember?"

Chase, heartbroken at the time and in desperate need of a shower, had been angry at her for pulling that card. Most of the car ride there. Her face wore a frozen pout. She could do nothing but grumble.

"I don't want to do this, Han."

"Well, you don't have a choice. You promised."

Eye roll after eye roll.

Of course, all that had changed for Chase when she walked into the shelter and met Rodger. Cowered and shivering, he was all alone in a new intake pen and walled in by four transparent walls.

Chase couldn't take her eyes off of him. Something had drawn her to him. And, after a quick meeting, she knew Rodger felt the same.

It was love at first sight. The poor collie came right out of his shell, went right up to Chase and licked her across the chin, as if to say, "I know you're the one, please get me out of here." They had been an inseparable duo ever since.

Chase recalled the afternoon with a fond glow. Her fingers danced through Rodger's thick, black fur, but a sadness tainted the memory.

Less than a year after rescuing Rodger, Hannah passed unexpectedly of a heart defect. Rarely, apparently.

Chase took Rodger with her to the funeral.

Now, she was back in the place where all that heartbreak and all of that upset began. Looking around her ex-husband's office now, eyes glancing over frames filled with strange faces, she wondered what might have been.

---

The next morning, Harvey woke her up with a gentle knock on the door.

"Eva's headed out for the day. She's going to see her mother upstate, so you're welcome to stay as long as you need."

"Harvey, heck. I didn't mean to cause a mess. Let me get a shower, some coffee, and I'll be on the road."

Harvey held up a hand.

"Take your time. I'm going to head out for the day, too. Work." He shrugged in that casual way he did. "House is yours. I've left a set of keys on the counter. Make yourself at home."

"Thanks, Havy."

It felt odd, using that old pet name again, but it rolled off her tongue before she could stop it.

"No problem, Dabs."

Harvey looked sad, but he didn't voice it. Instead, he shut the door behind him and left Chase with nothing but a watered down smile.

She didn't know what she was doing anymore.

Gathering her things together, she climbed into the shower as soon as she heard Harvey's car backing out of the drive. Then she did a load of laundry and fed Rodger his breakfast.

While she waited for him to wrap up, she took a wander around the house.

"I might as well see what Eva has done with the place," she muttered to herself under her breath. The younger generations were handy with decor, she heard, and it would be interesting to see what tastes someone with a twenty-year age difference had.

Chase wasn't impressed.

"Beige and eggshell, beige and eggshell. Mid-century modern and a giant monstera plant. Doesn't anyone have a shred of creativity anymore? What happened to colors? What happened to life? To personality?"

Her complaints ended when Chase realized she was standing there. In front of that door. Her stomach pitched and her head swam. In seconds, her vision became hazy. It felt like someone had placed overhead some big vacuum and was sucking all the air out of the room.

"I…I can't…I can't breathe," Chase stuttered before the tears flowed. Against her will, she moved toward the door.

"No," she cried with a weakened sob. "It's not my fault."

Faintly, somewhere in the distance, she could hear Rodger's panicked barks.

What's going to happen to Rodger? Her thoughts were a tangled, unintelligible mess as the door slowly opened. A sliver of red light peeked along the edge. The whisper of bells tinkered there, beyond the door, beyond the light. The tune it played was familiar.

That song. Chase shuddered.

As she crept closer and closer to the end of the hall, chilling waves of cold passed over her. The hand of death. It would not be denied. Chase felt as if she were stepping into her own grave.

Just when it appeared it was too late, a hand reached her from somewhere in the darkness.

"Chase!"

A force jerked the entire weight of her body backward with a strength that folded her in half. Chase hit the wall before crumpling to the floor in a broken, shivering heap. A shadow appeared before her and leaned low over her. Its dark shape swallowed up her view.

"I didn't mean it," she whispered, but the darkness was coming for her. "I didn't mean it."

"I know," a soft voice whispered. "But you knew better."

© E.B. Johnson 2024