Enter The Black Oak: Chapter 20

A TALL METAL GATE STANDS BETWEEN US and the house. The large two-story dwelling with its pale-green fountain in front is eerily imposing in the hazy glow of the lanterns illuminating the long driveway. There’s an unlit front room to the right and dim light coming from what looks like a kitchen to the left behind a white rocking chair on the porch.

The ridiculousness I feel at the half-assed amateur spy operation and my second-guessing of the need for this mission isn’t doing much to dampen the fluttering nerves building in the pit of my stomach.

“He probably just went to see a friend,” suggests Kevin optimistically.

“But why would he lie about that?” I respond.

“Look! Up there!” shoots out Stella in hushed tones as she points to an upstairs room to the left of the house. Shadows glide in the dim light. There’s someone in or near that room. We stand quietly for several minutes, trying to make out the shadows dancing on the ceiling.

“Guys, we need to see the other side of the house,” I whisper. “We can’t see anything from here.”

As we turn to leave, two words uttered by Stella stop me in mid-stride. “The car…”

She points to the right side of the house and I strain my eyes as I try to make out a car to the right of the driveway, parked under a wooden roof, presumably to protect it from the falling leaves of tall trees looming over it.

My heart stalls and the ground falls out from under my feet.

I know that car.

It’s a classic sixties-model Alfa Romeo Spider. Convertible. White.

There’s only one person I know that I’ve ever seen drive a car like that.

“Is that Alex Frost’s car?” Kevin asks Stella in a somber whisper.

She nods, her eyes two festering balls of fury. She must see the quiet desperation in my face as she puts a comforting hand on my arm and squeezes it tightly.

“Maybe he just went there to talk to her… after last night,” Kevin stutters.

“There’s the phone for that,” responds Stella icily.

“Do we even know if he’s in there? Maybe he just stayed for a minute, spoke his mind and then left.”

Hearing the cynical Kevin attempt to wax positive in the face of this monstrosity of a situation makes me tremble inside.

We walk silently to the car and get in before driving to the end of the block, turning left and left again, round to the back of the house where I park on a patch of gravel on the opposite side of the road in front of another mansion protected by equally impressive gates. As I get out, a spatter of the rain that has been threatening to come out to play since early evening beats the windscreen and a mean gust of wind whips my cheeks. I close the door behind me, look up at the grumbling sky and say another silent prayer as we cross the street and enter a ten-foot-wide strip of lanky pines which we walk through tentatively to get to the tall black fence at the back of the house, crowned by vicious-looking spearheads covered in incongruous gold paint.

The shadowy trees hide us as we peer through the gaps between the hefty metal bars at the manicured lawn and the house beyond. The downstairs rooms look empty, but there are lights on upstairs with pronounced shadows gliding through them. To the top right is what I assume to be a bedroom behind a generous balcony accessible through a frosted glass door. A wooden balustrade frames the balcony and some chairs and a table are visible through the slats. A short gable shields half the balcony, but the front part is open to the elements.

“There’s definitely someone upstairs,” whispers Kevin, momentarily drowning out my rabid heartbeat as we stand mesmerized by shadows performing their grotesque ballet. “Maybe you should call him,” he suggests. “He could be home by now.”

“What time is it?” I ask.

“Ten fifteen,” he replies with a glance at his watch.

I turn to Stella. “What do you think?”

“Let’s just wait a little longer,” she answers.

“Okay. Ten more minutes,” I whisper. “Maybe I’m just being stupid. I’m so paranoid at the moment. I don’t trust my own judgment. There’s probably some innocent explanation for—.”

“Maybe,” Stella interrupts. “But the taxi company says they dropped him off here. And Alex Frost’s car is parked in the driveway. Or a car identical to the one she drives—a very rare car.”

“I know. I just can’t believe Jack would… After everything we’ve been through in the last few months—the therapy, the hours talking.” I rearrange my shawl around my body to protect me from the frigid wind. “We have a prenup, a no-fault prenup. Getting divorced would be a piece of cake for him. Why? Why would he go to all that trouble to then—?”

“Honey, if I understood men, I’d have written a book on the subject by now,” whispers Stella.

“Second that,” says Kevin. “You’re basically dealing with two alien species that society and hormones tell us should live together.”

“It just doesn’t make sense. Putting me through this pain, begging me to take him back, and then doing it again just when we’re starting to get back on track? It’s just… It makes no fucking sense at all.”

“I know, baby.” Concern makes Kevin’s usually confident voice sound weak. “Sometimes people do messed-up things. He wouldn’t be the first person to throw away a good marriage for some cheap thrill.”

A few more minutes pass and I breathe a quiet sigh of relief at not having seen anything incriminating. “Maybe we should wait out front, just in case someone comes out—”

“Look!” Kevin blurts out, pointing towards the upper-right corner of the house.

A woman is emerging from behind the balcony door. She’s slim with what looks like a white towel wrapped around her torso. Through the gaps in the balustrade, I watch in disbelief as she sits down on a low table, lights a cigarette and exhales a wisp of smoke.

The hair is loose and curly and blond, the skin tanned.

Her posture is poised and perfect.

The graceful, deliberate movements are unmistakable.

They belong to Alexandra Frost.

As we stare ahead in eerie silence, held spellbound by this surreal apparition, a shape becomes apparent behind the frosted glass door.

“There’s someone else there,” I whisper, my mouth now so dry it’s a wonder I can speak at all.

I know it can’t be Jack.

It can’t be.

I’m just paranoid. He wouldn’t do it again. He just wouldn’t. Not after everything he’s done to make me believe in him again.

I trust him. I do. I have to.

Everything stalls as if in slow motion as the glass door slides open.

Please.

Anyone but him.

Not him…

A tall, muscular man steps out onto the balcony, naked from the waist up. He reaches down, picks up a pack of cigarettes from the table and lights one, leaning against the balustrade and lifting his head to the sky as he inhales the smoke. As he stands facing Alexandra Frost, faint wisps of unintelligible conversation are carried over the garden by the wind.

The male body is sculpted and powerful.

The hair is dark blond.

The skin is pale gold in the moonlight.

Kevin’s grip on the metal bars tightens.

“I’ll kill him,” Stella growls.

The scene in front of me goes out of focus and I crouch down, grasping the black bars in front of me.

The doubt is no more.

It is Jack.