Long Hill Home Read online

  Long Hill Home

  by Kathryn Pincus

  © Copyright 2014 Kathryn Pincus

  ISBN 978-1-940192-84-0

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means – electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any other – except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior written permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. The characters are both actual and fictitious. With the exception of verified historical events and persons, all incidents, descriptions, dialogue and opinions expressed are the products of the author ’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.

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  To Bob, my home.

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER 1

  KELLY: SEPTEMBER 23, 2011

  CHAPTER 2

  KELLY: SEPTEMBER 24, 2011

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAD: MAY-JUNE 2011

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAD: JUNE 2011

  CHAPTER 5

  MARIA: SEPTEMBER 24, 2011

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAD: SEPTEMBER 24, 2011

  CHAPTER 7

  KELLY: SEPTEMBER 24, 2011

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAD: SEPTEMBER 24, 2011

  CHAPTER 9

  KELLY: SEPTEMBER 24, 2011

  CHAPTER 10

  MARIA: SEPTEMBER 25, 2011

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAD: SEPTEMBER 25, 2011

  CHAPTER 12

  KELLY: SEPTEMBER 25, 2011

  CHAPTER 13

  MARIA: SEPTEMBER 25, 2011

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAD: SEPTEMBER 26, 2011

  CHAPTER 15

  KELLY: SEPTEMBER 26, 2011

  CHAPTER 16

  MARIA: SEPTEMBER 26, 2011

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAD: SEPTEMBER 26, 2011

  CHAPTER 18

  KELLY: SEPTEMBER 27, 2011

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAD: SEPTEMBER 27, 2011

  CHAPTER 20

  MARIA: SEPTEMBER 27, 2011

  CHAPTER 21

  KELLY: SEPTEMBER 28, 2011

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAD: SEPTEMBER 28, 2011

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAD: SEPTEMBER 28, 2011

  CHAPTER 24

  JACK BARNARD: SEPTEMBER 28-29, 2011

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAD: SEPTEMBER 29, 2011

  CHAPTER 26

  KELLY: SEPTEMBER 29, 2011

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAD: SEPTEMBER 29, 2011

  CHAPTER 28

  KELLY: OCTOBER 1, 2011

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAD: OCTOBER 1, 2011

  CHAPTER 30

  KELLY: OCTOBER 3, 2011

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAD: OCTOBER 4, 2011

  CHAPTER 32

  KELLY: OCTOBER 5, 2011

  CHAPTER 33

  KELLY: OCTOBER 5, 2011

  CHAPTER 34

  KELLY: OCTOBER 6, 2011

  CHAPTER 35

  KELLY: OCTOBER 7, 2011

  CHAPTER 36

  KELLY AND CHAD: OCTOBER 7, 2011

  CHAPTER 37

  KELLY: OCTOBER 7, 2011

  CHAPTER 38

  KELLY AND MARIA: OCTOBER 8, 2011

  CHAPTER 39

  CHAD: OCTOBER 10, 2011

  CHAPTER 40

  MARIA: NOVEMBER 19, 2011

  CHAPTER 41

  KELLY: NOVEMBER 20, 2011

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  QUESTIONS AND TOPICS FOR DISCUSSION

  CHAPTER 1

  KELLY: SEPTEMBER 23, 2011

  KELLY MALLOY GAZED through her eighteenth-floor window to distract herself from her uncomfortable conversation with Jack Barnard. His booming voice rattled the speakerphone on her desk.

  “Come on, Kelly, you have to withdraw your motion to dismiss the appeal. It was only late by one day.”

  She turned in her chair away from the window to face the speakerphone, taking a deep breath to calm herself. “Jack, the law clearly says it is a matter of jurisdiction, and the court has no discretion.”

  “Think about it, Kelly.” His incessant arguing became a dull buzz in Kelly’s ears as she turned in her chair again toward the window. She tuned out the bombastic attorney on the line and tuned in the remnants of the autumn sunset and the colorful treetop fringe that lay just beyond the city. Her eyes followed the snaking dark line of the Brandywine River as it trailed away from the office buildings of Wilmington’s business district and into Trolley Square, a neighborhood of densely packed town homes and apartment buildings, quaint shops, restaurants and bars. The Highlands neighborhood came next, with its towering oak trees, meticulous green lawns and grand homes. Kelly’s eyes rested on the spot in the Highlands where her home stood, and she imagined herself there, ensconced in its solid walls and warmth.

  The voice from the speakerphone suddenly grew louder, abruptly transporting Kelly back to her office. “Come on, Kelly, cut me a break! How about for old times’ sake?” Kelly pictured Jack Barnard, all six feet of him, dressed in his usual pressed grey suit, black cowboy boots, and his crocodile belt straining over a mid-life spread. She imagined his face turning red as he leaned over his speakerphone to yell at her while standing in an office only two blocks away from her office. “Mr. Johnson will lose his appeal rights! That’s not fair to him!”

  Kelly had recently learned that Barnard had just returned from a weeklong fly-fishing trip in Idaho. She pictured him calmly standing knee-deep in a wide river framed by beautiful mountains at the very moment that his client’s appeal period lapsed. She spoke carefully—trying to quell her adversary. “You are asking me to do the impossible. The court has no jurisdiction. It cannot take the appeal, and there’s nothing I can do about it even if I wanted to.”

  The voice from the speakerphone became inflamed. “You think you are so fucking high and mighty, with your big law firm practice. You are going to regret this for a long, long time. Mark my words!”

  Kelly felt the knot in her stomach tighten. Barnard was known for his harassing and intimidating tactics, which often brought lucrative settlements from corporate defendants lacking fortitude to fight. These tactics were rewarded with tremendous commission checks which paid for his new Jaguar, his tailored suits and his penthouse on the Brandywine River. But this time his venom sounded personal. His menacing tone and his threatening words made her flinch, her stomach tighten, and she was left almost breathless. She looked out the window at her refuge down the road, took a long deep breath, and attempted to sound like she was calm and in control. “Jack, there is no reason to be uncivil or to threaten me. I am going to end this conversation now.” She pressed a button on her phone. Her office was silent.

  Kelly’s secretary, Margaret, poked her blonde curly head through Kelly’s doorway. “Tough one, huh?” She offered Kelly the usual pick-me-up: a dish of jellybeans.

  Kelly let out a sigh as she grabbed a handful of the colorful treats. “You have no idea. Jack Barnard is such an asshole. That bully thinks he can intimidate me.”

  “I know, honey, I heard him al
l the way out here in the hallway. That man is scary. He was in the class ahead of me at Concord High School. I remember one night he beat up some poor kid in the parking lot of the Charcoal Pit, just because the kid was talking trash about Concord’s football team. That poor boy left in an ambulance, unconscious. As I recall, Barnard was arrested and everything, but his big lawyer-daddy intervened… he was back in school the next day as if nothing had happened.” After a pause, she added, “He goes through secretaries and wives like they’re disposable. Supposedly, in his last divorce his ex-wife accused him of abuse. I bet he threw money at her to make her go away quietly.”

  Kelly popped some more jellybeans and chewed for a moment. “I remember he harassed me once, years ago. I was at O’Malley’s Tavern with a bunch of new lawyers celebrating the day that the bar exam results came out. Some of us were dancing to the jukebox. Barnard asked me to dance, and when I declined he grabbed my arm and literally dragged me onto the dance floor. So I screamed over the music that I’d had one too many shots of tequila and was going to be sick, and he let go of me really fast. He had the gall to come back to my table that night and brag that he had been a football player at Texas Tech and that he had all the cheerleaders he wanted. I guess that cowboy swagger doesn’t have the same effect on the women of the Delaware bar.”

  “Well, at least you don’t have to see him outside of the occasional case where you unfortunately cross paths.” Margaret laughed. “And then I’ve got your back, girl.”

  Kelly smiled. “Actually, I sometimes see him fly-fishing when I run along the river in the morning. I always try to slip by quietly, so he doesn’t even notice me.”

  Margaret touched Kelly’s elbow gently. “Well, it’s Friday and it is quitting time, so let’s get out of here and forget about the Jack Barnards of the world until Monday.” Margaret walked to her cubicle outside of Kelly’s office door, turned off her desk light and pushed a button sending all of her phone calls to voicemail. She took a cardigan sweater off of her chair, and turned toward Kelly’s office. “You coming?”

  Kelly sat back in her chair. “You go ahead without me.” The knot in her stomach relaxed as she gazed at framed photos on her desk of her daughters, Anna and Grace, and her husband, Dan. Kelly picked up and studied a photograph that captured a moment at the Jersey Shore. Anna, with her long, wavy auburn hair and blue eyes, and little Grace, with her dark brown curls and freckles, peeked up at the camera. They crouched in front of a lopsided sandcastle, smiling in matching pink bathing suits. Dan, wearing blue boarder shorts and black Ray-Bans, stood behind the girls. Kelly admired his tall, lean body, his curly black hair and wide smile. As she rose from her chair she smiled and briefly thought about pressing herself against the skin of Dan’s chest on that beach, of feeling its warmth and smelling the salt on his skin.

  *****

  In the elevator as it descended to the parking garage, Kelly looked at her reflection in the mirrored wall. She was relieved to see that she did not look as tired as she felt. Her oval blue eyes flashed back at her and her chestnut hair fell in waves below her shoulders, framing her fair skin and prominent cheekbones. Her dark blue suit was a little wrinkled after a long day, but it fit nicely over her small frame. Shapely runner’s legs extended from her skirt hem to her black pumps. She hurried out of the elevator and walked toward the last car in the parking lot, her blue Volvo.

  Within five minutes of pulling out of the downtown parking lot, Kelly was in a different world. Stately homes of brick and stone stood facing each other along narrow roads enveloped by ancient oak trees and green lawns. The neighborhood was flanked by an enormous span of green space known as Rockford Park. Miles of protected woodlands surrounding the park extended to the banks of the Brandywine River. Rockford Tower, a hundred-year-old stone tower, stood sentry at the highest point of the park.

  Kelly and Dan had stretched to buy their home in the Highlands. It was a turn-of-the-century Georgian colonial. Dan had been the architect on a large addition and renovation to the house five years before. After the renovation, he had requested that the owners notify him if they ever decided to sell. His background in historic renovation helped him appreciate its special qualities: a staircase of hand-carved spindles, three working fireplaces, a butler pantry with leaded glass cabinets, a slate-floored mudroom and wide-planked white oak floors. Kelly shared his enthusiasm when she saw the new open kitchen and the light-filled family room leading to a stone patio, a small green lawn and a rectangular swimming pool.

  Kelly turned off the radio and pulled into her driveway.

  “Mama, you’re home!” Anna flung herself into Kelly, wrapping her slim arms tightly around her mother’s waist. Anna’s football jersey hung from her slight frame and her long auburn hair seemed to rebel against a ponytail holder.

  Kelly put her hand around her daughter’s ponytail and gave it a playful tug. “I’m so happy to be home with you. What do you say we liberate that hair of yours and find your sister?”

  “She’s probably up in her room playing with those dumb dolls again,” Anna said, as she tried to tuck a renegade hank of hair behind her ear.

  “Anna, that is not nice. You know better.” Kelly spoke as she removed the hairband and let Anna’s hair fly. “I’m going to go upstairs and change into my shorts. I’ll get Gracie while I’m up there.” She turned to walk out of the mudroom.

  “Put your bathing suit on too, Mom, because Dad set up for dinner outside and he said we can swim after.”

  “That sounds like exactly what I need,” Kelly said just as Dan entered the mudroom. He extended one hand holding a glass of white wine and wrapped his other arm around Kelly’s waist as he kissed her cheek. “I almost didn’t recognize you without a briefcase attached to your hand.”

  “I know, isn’t it great?” Kelly kissed Dan on his lips. “The Johnson appeal went away today, so I have no work this weekend.”

  Kelly walked upstairs to Gracie’s bedroom. Her six-year-old daughter sat on the floor with her back to the door, oblivious to her mother watching. Her hands moved Barbie and Ken around the dollhouse and her sweet little-girl voice created conversations between the figures. Kelly felt overwhelmed by her desire to go wrap her arms around her young daughter, to bury her nose in her hair and to brush her lips against her chubby little-girl cheeks. Loving her children so completely made her feel like the luckiest person alive, but scared her to death at the same time. “Mama!” Grace said, as she finally noticed her there. She sprang to her feet and wrapped her arms around her mother’s waist, her head against Kelly’s stomach. Kelly touched her nose to Grace’s dark curls and inhaled the wonderful scent of her daughter.

  “Hey, kiddo. How about dinner by the pool and swimming after?”

  “Oh, yeah!” Grace yelped as she ran to get her bathing suit.

  Two hours later, in cut-off shorts, Birkenstocks and a faded cotton T-shirt, Kelly lingered at the backyard table with the remnants of dinner spread out around her. As she sipped her second glass of Pinot Grigio, thoughts of Barnard’s threats and the now-dead Johnson appeal dissipated into the warm September night. She felt content, watching Anna and Grace splash in the pool and holding Dan’s hand across the table.

  CHAPTER 2

  KELLY: SEPTEMBER 24, 2011

  THE SOFT, RHYTHMIC sound of her running shoes and her own steady breathing were the only sounds Kelly heard as she ran along the wooded banks of the Brandywine River. It was a spectacular September morning as the chill began yielding to the sun’s warmth. Slices of sunlight pierced the low morning clouds and collided into the river, creating millions of tiny white diamonds on the river’s surface. Thick green-and-brown vegetation covered the steep riverbanks. The foliage opened up several hundred feet ahead revealing the historic Breck’s Mill, with its solid grey stone exterior and a large wooden wheel spinning quietly in the water.

  Kelly slowed as she approached the last and most strenuous part of her run, a long steep ascent from the river’s banks, past Rockford To
wer and to her home in the Highlands. She had run up this hill hundreds of times and she knew its every rise and bump. It was a formidable foe and a familiar friend. She loved pushing herself when her thighs started to fatigue and her hamstrings complained, because she was running toward her home and her family. She inhaled slowly as she ran through a thicket of trees between the mill and the river and prepared to conquer the long hill home.

  Suddenly a searing pain shot through the back of her right leg. Shit! Did I tear a hamstring? As she twisted around to grab her injured leg, she saw something small—a dart?—sticking in the back of her thigh. Kelly quickly pulled the piercing object out of her flesh. Her heart raced. Someone just shot me!

  Staggered by immediate dizziness and nausea, Kelly tried to get to the Breck’s Mill parking lot. She could see a few cars and hoped someone would be nearby to help her. Bile rose up in her throat and she retched the sour remnants of her morning coffee. Her legs grew wooden and heavy, and then numb. She could no longer move. “Help!” she yelped weakly to no one in particular as her knees buckled. Then her legs crumpled under her, her vision blurred and little spots of black filled up her head until there was nothing but darkness.

  She drifted in an endless black slumber marred only by white-hot flashes of pain. She tried to rouse herself from her horrible nightmare. When she finally regained consciousness, terror flooded her as she realized that she was still entombed in darkness and pain, and her nightmare was only beginning. A rough cloth covered her eyes, allowing only slivers of light where the blindfold tented over her nose. Her eyelashes brushed against the coarse cloth as she blinked furiously, desperate to see anything. A sticky tape covered her mouth and wrapped around her aching head, pressing against her hair. She tried to lift her right hand to uncover her eyes and mouth, but she could not lift her arm. Her wrists were tightly bound behind her back, and they felt lifeless now except for the sensation of pins and needles as the circulation in her arms slowly ceased.

  She kicked her legs furiously against what felt like a cold bumpy floor. A floor? How? Where am I? She flailed frantically, twisting and arching her back and pushing with her feet, only to fall in a heap back to the cold surface, sobbing into her blindfold. Her mind raced back to her morning run—the sudden, searing pain and nausea and then the blackness. She imagined Dan coming to her rescue. He must know I’m in danger, and he must be searching for me.