The Good Neighbor Read online

  The Good Neighbor

  Title Page

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  The Good Neighbor

  By Kimberly A. Bettes

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright 2011 Kimberly A. Bettes

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  1 Owen

  I didn’t believe Jenson was a serial killer, hacking up the bodies and hauling them out of his house in black trash bags. Though his behavior was odd, and there were a lot of bags coming out of his house, and other residents of Hewitt Street thought he was, I didn’t believe it.

  As I watched the old man struggle with his bags, I wondered why he just didn’t put them in a can at the curb like the rest of the world. What was in his garbage that required him to dispose of it wherever it was that he disposed of it? I had no idea where that was. I never followed him to see where he went once he loaded the heavy bags in his car.

  The real puzzle was why he had two different garbage bags that he disposed of in two different ways. He had white trash bags, which he carried to the curb once a week and placed in a curbside trashcan.

  Then, there were the black bags.

  I sat on my front porch watching him, thinking maybe I should cross the street and help him. After all, he was in his sixties or seventies, and I was still a youthful thirty-five. It was the polite thing to do, and certainly the neighborly thing to do.

  “What’s he doing?” someone asked. I turned to see Andy, the neighbor to my left, standing on his porch in his robe.

  “Him? What are you doing? It’s almost noon.”

  He tilted his red head down to look at his robe, as if seeing it for the first time. “You don’t think I rock this ensemble?” As he spoke, he put one foot on the porch railing, placing his elbow on his bent knee.

  “Well, I do now that I see your shoes.”

  “Like ‘em? Jill got ‘em for me.”

  “Nice. They complement your...uh, carrots.”

  “Don’t hate the bunny shoes. You’re jealous, I can tell.”

  I laughed, turning my attention back to the trash bag-toting senior.

  Andy, seeing where my attention went, asked, “What do you suppose is in that bag?” he asked, starting a conversation we’d had many times before.

  “I don’t know, but it definitely looks heavy.”

  “Aren’t they always heavy?”

  Changing the subject, I asked, “Why are you still in your robe?” I didn’t take my eyes off the old man.

  “I’m not still in my robe. I just got in my robe.”

  “Ah, must be on the night shift this week,” I deduced.

  “Yeah. I’ll be heading to bed soon. Just wanted to come out and see what was happening out here. I heard the moving truck.”

  I turned my attention to the truck a few driveways down the street, where two men were carrying furniture into the house. Two children, a boy and a girl, were running around the yard. Occasionally, a young woman – presumably their mother – would step onto the porch and say something to them.

  Andy said. “Think she’s the mom? Or maybe the older sister? She’s hot.” His smile broadened.

  “Yeah, she’s alright. But is she hotter than, say, Jill?”

  He lost his smile. “Of course not. My wife is the hottest woman on the planet,” he said in a robotic voice, then smiled.

  “You’re crazy,” I said, laughing at him.

  “I see Jenson finally got that bag in the trunk,” Andy said.

  When I looked across the street, I saw the old man close the lid of the trunk. I could tell from the stiffness in his gait that he was in pain and having some difficulty getting around. It was probably from dragging around all those heavy bags. And age, of course. I watched as he got in his car, backed out slowly, and then drove away.

  “Wonder where he goes,” Andy said, reading my mind. “One of these days, we should follow him. See what he does with those bags.” He saw the look I was giving him and added, “I’m just curious.”

  “I think the word you’re looking for is nosy.”

  “So you’ve never thought about it? You don’t wanna know what he’s got goin’ on over there?”

  “Yeah, but I’d never follow him. Some states call that stalking. They even have laws against it.”

  He laughed. “It isn’t stalking if you do it once, and just see where he goes. No big deal.”

  I didn’t respond. In my mind, it was still stalking. It was still something that would make me feel guilty, as though I was doing something wrong. Even if it was just once.

  “Well, think about it. Maybe one of these days, we’ll go sleuthing, see what’s up. But now, me and the bunnies here are going to turn in for the afternoon.”

  “Yeah, go get some sleep. You’re losing your charm.”

  “That’s impossible. And, Owen, try to keep it down out here. I’m tired of telling you. You’re the loudest neighbor on Hewitt Street.” He laughed, knowing that was the farthest thing from the truth, and then went inside.

  Andy was my best friend, and I was lucky he lived next door. He and his wife Jill had taken great care of me when my life fell apart last year. I still hadn’t picked up all the pieces yet, but I was a lot closer than what I would’ve been if it hadn’t been for them. They’re the only ones who knew how bad things had been for me.

  I reluctantly went inside the house. I couldn’t sit on the porch all day, even though I spent as much time on the porch as I could to avoid spending time alone in the house. There were too many memories, all of them best forgotten, that consumed me when I was inside the house. It just hurt too much to be in there.

  However, there were things to do.

  Once I’d finished my chores and ran my errands, I stopped off and grabbed some dinner. I wasn’t much of a cook, so I ate a lot of take out. A couple times a week, Jill made more than enough food just so she would have an excuse to feed me. This wasn’t one of those nights.

  I sat on the porch, my feet propped up on what was supposed to be a table. It suited me better as a footstool. I held my burger in one hand and scooped fries from a bag on my lap with the other.

  It was funny how I didn’t mind the silence of being alone when I was outside. Inside, I wanted to scream. Outside, I was fine. I knew the reason. I hated the reason. I struggled every second of every day to not think about the reason.

  Inside reminded me of her. Inside is where she lived and loved me. I had no memories of her out here on the porch. But as soon as I walked through the door, I was engulfed with her smell, the sound of her laughter – though it was only in my mind, and everything she’d touched. Her things were still in the house where she’d left them. Things she’d bought or gifts she’d received. Everything was as it had been. Everywhere I looked, there was a reminder. A reminder of what had been, what I’d had, and what I’d lost.

  At first, those reminders saved me. They comforted me. They were all I had to hold onto. Now, they taunted me. It was all I could do to let go. Holding on to the memories wasn’t saving me anymore. It was killing me.

  It wasn’t a lie or an exaggeration to say Andy and Jill had taken great care of me. They were there from the beginning. They stood by my side as I fell apart. Andy stayed with me the first few days and nights. Jill kept me eating, even though it was an abso
lute job to do so, for both of us. They made me keep up my hygiene, even though there was no reason to. They made me get out of bed and quit wallowing in my pity. If they hadn’t, I’d have laid there, in the fetal position, and died.

  But the one thing they couldn’t do was make me quit missing her. She was everything to me. She always had been. She was the only woman I’d ever loved and that had ever loved me. And then she was gone, vanished from my life. The only evidence that she’d ever even existed was the very things in my house that I could no longer stand to look at.

  Thinking of her now brought images to my mind. I could see her dark hair, her brown eyes, and her warm smile as if she were standing in front of me now. I could almost hear her voice. As was always the case when I dared to let myself think of her, I couldn’t help but wonder what I had done to make her want to leave.

  I had to force down the mouthful of cheeseburger I’d been chewing. It just couldn’t seem to find its way around the lump that had suddenly appeared in my throat. I knew there’d be no way I could finish the meal now. Not with thoughts of Holly on my mind. I’d lost my appetite.

  I looked around for the dog that roamed the neighborhood, planning to give him the remnants, but I didn’t see him. I set the food on the table, also known as my footstool. I leaned forward in the chair, putting my elbows on my knees, unsure what to do now. I had a restless feeling. It was the same restlessness that always came when I thought of Holly. And with Andy working night shift, I had no one to take my mind off her.

  I hated when Andy worked nights. It meant I had to sit on the porch alone, until it was late enough to go to bed without feeling guilty that I’d turned in too early. There had been many nights where I’d given up and gone to bed before the sun had set. I felt as though I’d wasted valuable, nonrefundable time out of my life by doing so, but I was just unable to continue dragging myself through the day. The loneliness, the emptiness, the hollowness that had become my life was sometimes just too much to bear. There were days when I didn’t want to get out of bed at all, but I forced myself. I knew that the amount of time that had passed since Holly had disappeared from my life was appropriate for me to move on. But somehow, I still couldn’t manage to do so. Though things had gotten a lot better for me, my wounds were still not completely healed. There wasn’t an open wound now, but there wasn’t a scar either. It was more of a scab. I was close to being healed, but not quite there yet.

  I sighed deeply and closed my eyes, listening to the crickets chirp. The sound of a door closing snapped them open.

  “You still out here?” Andy asked as he came out of his house.

  “I’m not still out here. I’m out here again,” I said, referring to what he’d said this morning about his bathrobe.

  “You need a hobby, my friend.”

  “I see you’ve decided to shed the robe for a night on the grind. I’m sure your co-workers will appreciate that. Do they know how awesome you dress while at home?” I teased.

  “They’ve heard stories.” Andy indicated the house across the street from me when he said, “Quiet at Jenson’s place tonight, huh?”

  “I guess so.”

  “Thought you were against all forms of stalking,” he said, furrowing his brow with feigned suspicion and folding his arms across his chest.

  “Is it stalking when I never have to leave my front porch?”

  Andy laughed. “Guess not.”

  Suddenly, the peaceful sound of a quiet night was shattered. Andy’s head jerked abruptly and I shot out of my chair as if my ass were on fire.

  “Was that a scream?” he asked in a loud whisper.

  I could only nod. We ran off our porches simultaneously, in search of the sound. Both of us stood on our lawns, heads tilted, scanning the street, listening for another sound. Finally it came.

  Andy breathed a huge sigh of relief. “Damn,” he said. “That scared the hell out of me.”

  “Me too,” I said. My nerves were tingling. The sudden rush of adrenaline had brought everything to life in me that had been dormant for so long. My heart raced. I enjoyed the feeling. It reminded me that I was alive. Something I’d seemed to have forgotten. I couldn’t help but smile.

  “Who lets their kids run around the yard at night screaming like that? Especially when you just moved into the neighborhood?” he asked, watching the kids down the street run circles in the yard of their new home.

  “I don’t know. Probably someone hot,” I said, teasing him.

  “I only said that for your benefit,” he said smiling. When I didn’t return his smile, he looked at the ground, suddenly embarrassed. “I’m sorry, Owen. I didn’t mean anything by that.”

  “It’s okay,” I lied. It wasn’t okay. I may be ready to try to let go of her memory, but I certainly wasn’t ready to move on that way. I didn’t even know how to move on that way.

  “Still. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “Andy?”

  “Yes?”

  “Aren’t there some people somewhere waiting for you to grace them with your presence?” I smiled, letting him know to forget about it.

  “Yeah. Can’t keep my fans waiting,” he said in a lighter tone, walking to his car. “I’d tell you to be on the porch when I get home and we’ll keep an eye on Jenson, but I’m sure you’ll be there already, not stalking him.” He laughed and got in his car before I could respond.

  He drove away, leaving me standing on the lawn listening to the sounds of chirping crickets and screaming kids.

  2 Owen

  When I stepped out the door the next morning, I saw the mess. I’d forgotten to bring in the burger and fries. The neighborhood dog had found and eaten it, but the wrappers were lying on the porch. At least he hadn’t ripped the wrappers to shreds as most dogs would have done. I stooped down to pick them up.

  “Hello,” said a sweet, feminine voice.

  I looked up as she stepped off the top step and onto the porch, only a couple feet from me. I stood, trying to appear as though I wasn’t looking. But I noticed her painted toenails, her sandals, her ankle bracelet, her toned legs, her curvy hips wrapped in jean shorts, her white blouse, her slender neck, and her beautiful face.

  “Hello,” I said in return. I wasn’t sure what else to say. I thought I was doing good to manage to speak actual words. I was so taken with her that I was certain all I’d be able to do was spew forth some nonsense. But somehow my tongue hadn’t failed me.

  She smiled. “I just moved in down the street. I wanted to introduce myself. My name is Carla Jones. You probably heard my kids last night. I hope they didn’t bother you, but they were so excited to learn that we’re walking distance from a park.” She laughed lightly.

  “Well, I did wonder if you always gave them caffeine before bed,” I said with a smile.

  She laughed again. “No, usually, you don’t even know they’re there. They’re very good kids. Thankfully,” she said.

  Andy pulled into his driveway. I could feel him staring at us. I did my best to ignore him.

  “Why thankfully?” I asked.

  “Well, being a single mother would be a lot harder for me if they were unruly.”

  “Yeah, I guess that would make it harder. So are you moving from somewhere else or another part of town?”

  I felt Andy gawking as he slowly made his way into his house and I felt myself start to blush. I knew there’d be a lot of questions from him later.

  “We moved here from Dallas. My Aunt Elaine passed away last February and she left me the house in her will. I packed up the kids, and moved here. It’s scary, you know. Starting over.” She looked down the street at her kids playing in the yard and smiled.

  “Elaine was your aunt, huh?” I did what I could to keep my voice from tightening.

  “Yeah. Did you know her?” she asked, turning her attention back to me.

  “I did. I used to shovel her walkway in the winter. I helped her carry in groceries a few times. That sort of thing. My wife knew her better than I did,”
I said tightly. I was losing the battle to keep my voice loose and nonchalant. I quickly added, “I never found out what happened to her.”

  “Oh, I thought you knew. Her body was found in a ditch outside of town. She died of head trauma. It looked like they used a poker. Never found out who did it.” She paused a moment, deep in thought. “You don’t think I made a mistake moving into the house, do you? It seems like a nice, quiet neighborhood, but, well, it’s the same house, and...”

  I saw the hope in her eyes. I knew she needed to hear that she’d be fine on this street, in that house, and that the horrible things that had happened to her aunt were not going to happen to her. I could do that. I could tell her what she needed to hear. “No, no. You’re fine. This is a great neighborhood.”

  She must’ve read something in the look on my face. “Is something wrong?” She looked at me expectantly.

  I was still upset about mentioning my wife. It was like slapping a sunburn. I was used to the pain, but when I mentioned her, it stung as if it were fresh.

  “No,” I said. “I know you and your kids will be very happy here.”

  “Good,” she said, clearly relieved. “Guess I’d better get back. I’ll talk to you again soon. Meet your wife perhaps?” She had turned to leave, but once she saw the look on my face, she stopped. “I’m sorry,” she stammered. She pointed to my wedding ring. “I just...assumed. I’m sorry.” She was clearly confused.

  I looked at my ring. Struggling to keep my voice steady and my eyes dry, I said, “It’s a long story.”

  “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

  Of course she didn’t. How could she?

  “Well,” she said, trying to rectify the situation. “If you ever want to tell it, let me know. I’ll cook dinner. I’m a great listener.”

  “Maybe I’ll take you up on that.”

  “Good. You could meet the kids.” She turned and walked away, heading for her new home and leaving behind the faint scent of her perfume. I inhaled through my nose and watched her walk away, realizing that Andy was right. She was very attractive. I immediately felt guilty for thinking such thoughts.