Judith
April 1975
An argument raged somewhere above her between the frantic bleating of a goat. When the salt water cleared from her nose, she smelled animal shit and cigarette smoke. Someone nudged her in the side. She curled protectively, tucking her head and knees in.
“Jesus. Like a fuckin’ grub.”
“She’s not a grub.”
“Hush, boy.”
“Both of you hush.”
This last voice belonged to a woman. Judith wanted to open her eyes and see, but she was scared of what she would find.
The woman crouched over Judith. She felt the woman’s breath on her neck and shoulders. She shivered.
“She’s blue,” one of the men said.
“Of course she’s blue, you dolt. She’s half-frozen. Get her inside.”
“Nuh-uh. I ain’t touchin’ her until you pay up.”
“Pay?” The woman laughed. “Surely you’re joking. I pay you for fish, not stolen girls.”
“I didn’t steal her. Like I said. She was swimming out in the open. Besides, I know her family.” He sniffed. “Could solve your little problem, if you know what I mean.”
“Then why not leave her there?”
“Don’t do nothin’ for free.”
The woman sighed. “She’s just a girl. Take her back.”
“Not my problem,” the first man said. “I want my money.”
“Dad, just let it go.”
“Don’t you tell me how to run my business, Vik.” Slap. “I want to get paid.”
Judith rolled over on her front, her legs dead weights, and dragged herself, inch by inch through the sand. She heard the water but couldn’t see it. If she just kept going, she’d get there.
“Cassie,” she muttered. “Liza, take me instead.”
“Shit. Grab her,” the older man ordered.
The young one gently pulled on her shoulders, stopping her.
The woman wheeled around on her. Crouched so low they were face to face, almost licking the sand. “What did you say?”
Judith shook her head. Everything had gone numb.
The woman studied her for a long minute before straightening. “I’ll give you a hundred dollars.”
“A hundred?” the man shouted, outraged. “Cheap bitch.”
The woman snapped. “Either you accept my generous offer—seventy-five now—or I’ll have you arrested for trafficking a young woman.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“She’s a pretty little thing. No doubt someone’s missing her.”
“What if I reported you for keeping her?” The man’s voice was thick and gravelly “Huh? What then? How are you planning to explain yourself, eh?”
Judith’s entire body shivered. She bit down to keep her teeth from chattering, nearly taking off a bit of her tongue.
“Hypothermia’s gonna get her if we don’t get her inside,” the younger man, Vik, said. “Dad, just take it, okay? She’s going to die.”
“You have a smart boy,” the woman said.
The young man blushed. “Thanks, miss.”
“Ah, don’t you get taken in, Son.” The older man sighed. “Fine. Hundred. None of this seventy-five shit you’re talkin’. And no discount on the next mackerel haul.”
The woman nodded. Judith blinked, and the boy had her in his arms, his face and neck scarlet. The woman followed behind while the older man stood on the beach, counting a wad of cash.
They brought her inside a small house with little furniture and rose-vine wallpaper that peeled at the corners. The boy called Vik set her on the couch and cocooned her in blanket after blanket until she was wrapped too tightly to move. The woman disappeared somewhere deeper in the house, then returned with hot-water bottles, which she stuck under Judith’s neck and at the bottom of the cocoon near her feet.
“You feel that, dear?” the woman asked.
Judith shook her head.
The woman cursed.
“Is she going to be okay?” Vik asked.
Judith buried herself deeper in the blankets. She didn’t want to hear the answer.
“There’s some more hot water going over the fire. Pour some in a cup and bring it over. We have to warm her from the inside.”
Judith imagined the woman stuffing embers down her throat, her body catching fire from within. She moaned and her head pounded.
They poured cup after scalding cup of hot water down her throat, and though her tongue and the roof of her mouth felt flayed, warmth spread from her chest outward. Her toes tingled, and soon she felt the relieving heat of the hot-water bottle.
“Color looks better,” Vik said.
“Boy!” the older man called. “Get yer ass out here!”
Vik cast one last look at her and smiled. Judith felt her nakedness under the blankets and wanted to scrape the image of her body out of his head.
The woman patted his shoulder. “Thanks for your help.”
His face flushed.
She kissed his cheek. “Better run along now.”
He took off just as the older man had started to yell again.
The woman looked at Judith, long dark-brown tendrils falling into her face. She had lines like Judith’s mother. Worry lines. Life lines. But her eyes sparkled.
“What shall we do with you?” she asked.
Judith tried to sit up, but the blankets bound her like a straightjacket. Her mind shot to the fate that waited for her if she went back to the Cape, so she kept her mouth shut.
“My name’s Regina. Most people call me Gina, though,” she said. “You got a name?”
Judith shook her head.
“Come now. I’m only trying to help.”
“Judith,” she said reluctantly.
“Ah, that’s a pretty name. Named for your mother, maybe?”
“No.”
Regina shrugged. “Neither am I. We’re our own women, the two of us. I can tell.” She adjusted the blankets around Judith’s face, allowing her to sit up a little. “How’s that feel? You getting warm?”
Judith nodded.
“Good. You keep snug, and I’ll see if I can’t find you some clothes.”
Regina—Gina—patted Judith’s head and walked toward the back of the house. With her body warm and her head a little clearer, Judith was able to take in her surroundings. It reminded her of the driftwood shacks she and Art used to build, back before Carol. Before everything got bad.
“Here we are.” Gina shook out a dress that looked like something Judith’s grandmother might have worn. “It’s a little old, yes, but it’ll keep you covered. I have some underthings for you here too. They’re clean. Promise.”
She draped everything over the back of the couch and then sat facing her on a chair made of driftwood and a plastic crate. “So. Let’s talk.”
“I’m kind of tired,” Judith said, hoping the woman wouldn’t pry. What if she sent her back to the cape? If she went back now, Liza would follow. Her mother—if she was still alive—would be at risk.
“I’m sure you are. A girl only ends up naked in the middle of the ocean if she’s had a very good time or a very bad time.” She chuckled at her own joke. “So, which was it?”
Judith hesitated a moment, eyes drifting over the little house. She spotted a small dining table and a sink beneath a water pump. There were baskets of what looked like herbs and root vegetables hanging along the far wall. She noticed only one window, and it was covered in a thick drape.
“Where are we?” Judith asked.
“My house,” Gina said.
“Okay, but where?”
“An island a few miles from anywhere else.” Then, “You haven’t answered my question.”
“It was bad,” Judith said finally. Tears stung her eyes as she saw Cassie being taken over and over again. She’d tried to save Judith and died for her trouble. “My friend…drowned.”
Gina gently wiped Judith’s eyes with her thumbs. She sat back and seemed to study Judith for what felt like a long time. “Is there more to that story?”
Judith shook her head, afraid that if Gina knew what’d happened, she would send her away, either with that horrible man or someone else, probably worse. Sitting here on Gina’s couch, with the warmth of the water bottles breathing life into her body, she realized she didn’t want to die. But she also couldn’t be responsible for more death. She couldn’t go back to the cape. Ever.
“Liza…” Gina continued. “You said Liza. Who is that?”
“No one.”
“Judith.” Gina took her face in her hands. “Let’s make a promise not to lie to each other, okay? It’s been a long time since I’ve had someone here worth talking to. I like you, but I won’t stand for lying. So.” She gestured for Judith to speak. “Liza.”
There was something in Gina’s expression. An instinctual familiarity. Maybe it was just because she was an older woman or because of the way she’d handled the man who’d brought Judith in the first place. She didn’t decide to trust her until she noticed the Thalias—a small silver bucket in the corner, the blooms sprouting bright and blue. It made her think of Cassie, of those last moments when she’d tried to save Judith. Everything inside Judith ached for her friend.
“She’s killed people I love. Tried to kill others. I thought…” She bit her lip. “I thought I could stop her, but I only made it worse.” Then, breaking, “I don’t know what to do.”
Gina’s expression was unreadable. She stood and silently walked to the window, where she pulled the curtain aside just enough to peek through. Her shoulders relaxed as she shut it again and turned back to Judith.
“I’ll tell you what you do,” she said finally. “You survive. No matter the cost.”
***
Just like she knew it would, the shell washed ashore the next day. Judith found it while gathering wood for the dinner fire. Her legs were still wobbly, and her pinky toe remained a worrying shade of blue, but getting off the couch and outside put her in a good mood. In the night, she’d heard burbley, grumbley noises like monsters clawing at the walls. By the time she’d fallen asleep, the sun had already cast its pinky orange hues across the sky.
She pocketed the shell, its weight a strange comfort. She should have been scared, but if Liza had found her here, that meant she would linger around the island, away from the cape. Away from her family.
That night, during dinner, Judith picked at the overboiled potatoes and oily fish. She stole occasional glances up at Gina, shooting her gaze back to her food when she was caught. Gina had told her she knew about Liza—that, in a way, she was hiding from her too. While Judith was grateful to have someone who understood, her mind kept drifting back to the moment the man had brought her here.
“Something wrong?” Gina asked.
Judith shook her head. Smiled tightly.
“I’ll admit I’m not the best cook, but—”
“No. It’s fine. Really.” Then, “Thank you.” She forked a potato into her mouth and chewed, swallowing the mealy mess in one lump.
“If you’re worried about Liza, I told you I have…safeguards. Things I’ve learned from others, things I’ve taught myself. I’ll teach you, too, if you like.”
Judith nodded absently. Gina was talking about it as if Judith would be here for a while. What was she expecting from her? What would Judith have to give in exchange? She set down her fork. Cleared her throat. Gina looked up expectantly. “You…bought me.”
Gina’s eyebrows shot up, then her expression softened, a smile playing at her lips. “Is that what this is about?”
Judith didn’t say anything.
“I didn’t buy you. Aaron may be a brute, but he’s easily managed. If I hadn’t paid him, he would have taken you back with him, maybe taken your worth out another way.”
Judith’s stomach clenched.
“I saved your life.”
Had she? “Thank you.”
“And you don’t owe me a thing if that’s what you’re thinking. You’re not a prisoner.” She pushed her food around her plate. Sighed. “I’ve been alone for a long time.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. You’re here. You’re keeping me company. I couldn’t ask for more.” She smiled. “And now that we’re friends, maybe you’ll tell me a little more about you. Where are you from?”
“Cape Disappointment,” Judith said. “It’s—”
“I know where it is.” A wistful look crossed Gina’s face. “Is the lighthouse still there?”
Judith nodded. “My great-uncle is the keeper.”
“Really? And who before that?”
“My great-grandmother, I think.”
“What was her name?”
“Grace Bruun.”
“Is that her maiden name?”
Judith had to think. “No. Holm, I think.”
Gina sank inward, her face a mix of joy and despair. “It’s obviously fate.”
“What is?”
“That you should end up on my little island. We’re family, Judith. Grace was my second child.” Her smile widened, all teeth as she pulled Judith into a hug. “Now that I look at you closely, it’s obvious. You have Grace’s eyes. So serious and inquisitive. That mind of hers was doomed to get her in trouble. Oh!” She pulled back, as though hit. “This means she had children too. What were their names? What were they like? Did you meet them? No. Wait. Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.” She paled. “They’re all dead now, I suppose.”
Judith said that they were, and Gina sank back into her chair, shaken.
“She’ll come here,” she whispered. “She’ll come for sure.”
“But that’s not possible. You’re—” Judith started.
“Alive?” Gina asked. “Yes. I’m alive.”
Barely, she seemed to say.
“Regina Holm,” Judith murmured, the pieces aligning in her head.
“The very same.”
“The story I always heard was that you disappeared after…”
“After the murder?” Gina frowned.
Judith hesitated, then nodded. What had she gotten herself into?
“I didn’t kill anyone. If anything, I’m a victim. Marina, my daughter—Liza stole her from me. Murdered her right under my nose. I lost everything…” Gina dug her nails into the arm of the chair, her eyes fire. “I have nothing left.” Her eyes moved slowly over Judith. “Almost nothing.”
***
After dinner, Gina donned a light jacket and told Judith to stay inside. “I’ll be back soon.”
“Where are you going?”
Gina smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “To tend my garden. I find the Thalias more cooperative when I prune them at night.”
“Should I come with you?” She felt childish asking, but she didn’t want to be alone in the house. From the way Gina talked about it, the island was small, and she imagined Liza bringing the entire ocean down on them, drowning everything to get to her.
“I’d prefer if you didn’t,” Gina said, harsher than she’d been since Judith arrived. “My garden is…private.”
Judith nodded. “Okay.”
“You’ll be fine. Just…keep yourself busy. I find an idle mind is more susceptible to intrusion. I have books. A deck of cards.” She stood, flashing Judith another too-wide smile. “Stay here.”
There was a hint of warning in the words.
You’re not a prisoner, she’d said.
Then why did Judith suddenly feel like the room was a little bit smaller?
Judith watched Gina leave. Listened to her footsteps fade as Gina disappeared into the darkness.
A private garden on an isolated island where, Gina said, she’d been alone for years. Judith tried not to let her mind wander too far into what she could possibly keep there because, if she thought too hard about it, she’d suspect it wasn’t Thalias.
***
Gina had only been gone a few minutes when the snarling, clawing noises started again.
Judith pasted herself against the wall, heart thudding in her chest. The sound was coming from somewhere in the back of the house. An animal, maybe. But Gina hadn’t mentioned any pets. She imagined a huge dog, its jowls dripping foam, locked up in a room. Maybe it was just scared. Maybe it was hungry.
“Nice doggy,” Judith murmured as she crossed the living room and inched down the hall. The snarling had become a wet, gloppy noise, like someone gargling soup. Though her feet were bare and they touched the floor with all the force of a fly on a flower petal, her steps sounded thunder-loud. The first door she knew was a makeshift bathroom, with a bowl and pitcher for washing. The second door dangled open; she peered inside and saw a small table next to a bed with the blankets thrown back. Gina’s room. That left the third door. As soon as she was in front of it, the noises stopped.
Her heart hammered, and it felt like her stomach had climbed into her throat. The doorknob felt hot under her hand. She pressed her ear to the door. She heard the ocean.
The knob turned easily, but she hesitated an agonizing minute before pushing the door open. The room was too dark to see properly, and she was too scared to give her eyes the time to adjust. When she wasn’t immediately attacked by a hungry dog, she pushed the door open further, resisted by an inch of water covering the floor in front of her.
Metal chinked somewhere in the room. A splash. A purr.
“Hello?” Judith took a step into the room. The water on the floor was ice-cold. “Is someone in there?”
Haunting laughter reverberated off the walls. Judith’s skin prickled.
There! In the corner of the room, a tiny glowing green light. No. Judith squinted into the dark. Not a light. An eye.
Judith ran, slamming the door behind her.