Coming Home(3)

Leah shook her head as if to clear it, trying to place this strange woman.

“No. I mean…not that I can remember,” she said after a few seconds, hoping she hadn’t just offended someone from her past.

“You’ve been here before, haven’t you?”

Leah looked over the woman’s shoulder at the little yellow house. “Not for a long time.”

“Just about a year, I’d say.”

Her eyes flew back to the woman. “What?”

“You come every Christmas,” she said with a smile. “You were here last year.”

Leah straightened her posture, saying nothing, and the woman nodded. “It was you. In this car,” she said, gesturing to the car behind Leah. “I remember your face. I may look to be past my prime, but I’m still sharp as a tack,” she said, pointing to the side of her head with a gloved hand. The bulky black gloves, like the coat, looked far too large to be hers.

When Leah still didn’t respond, the woman said, “Last year you stopped in the road. I saw you through the window, and I thought, ‘Now what would make such a pretty girl look that way?’”

She swallowed. “What way?”

“Heartbroken.”

Leah dropped her eyes as the woman said, “By the time I got my old bones out here to check on you, you were gone.” She tilted her head, looking Leah over before she added, “You don’t look heartbroken this year. Just…pensive. But I still thought I should check on you.”

Leah pressed her lips together, her eyes trained on the ground. She knew she should say something, but she was far too taken off guard to formulate a response.

After a moment, she glanced up at the woman; her smile was unfaltering, but she still had that expectant look in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Leah finally said. “I don’t mean to bother you. It’s just…I used to live in this house…and I’m running some errands near here…and whenever I’m in the area, I like to stop by and just…remember, I guess. I shouldn’t have—”

“Nonsense,” the woman said, cutting her off. “Don’t you apologize for anything. I like a girl who remembers her roots. Besides, what’s Christmastime without a little nostalgia? I think it’s wonderful.”

The look in the woman’s eyes mirrored the unadulterated kindness of her words, and Leah was suddenly consumed with the inapt desire to wrap her arms around this tiny stranger.

Instead, she exhaled the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Thank you. For understanding,” she said, pushing herself off the passenger door. “Anyway, I really need to get going, but it was nice meeting you. Merry Christmas.”

She started to walk back around to the driver’s side, stopping short when she heard the woman say, “Did you want to see the inside?”

Yes. You have no idea how much.

She took a tiny breath before she said, “No, that’s okay. Thank you anyway, though.”

“Don’t be shy, honey. I just put on some tea. You can come inside, warm up for a bit. Maybe see your old room?”

Leah dropped her head back slightly, blinking up at the sky. She shouldn’t do this. For one, it was getting late. She still had errands to run, not to mention the hour drive back home. Plus, despite the fact that this woman seemed harmless enough, there was always the possibility that she was the innocuous decoy, leading an unsuspecting young girl into the house where a demented serial killer waited.

She laughed to herself, shaking her head at the absurdity of that last thought before the woman added softly, “I’d love some company for a while. Just one cup of tea. I know you have to be on your way.”